#working from home is a game changing privilege i will never work from anywhere else if i can help it

[novadreii]

I have mastered the art of lifeing (I don't using the word ad*lting) during very specific hours that don't overlap at ALL with Friday night through Sunday night, my prime chilling window.

Errands including groceries are for Tuesday and Wednesday nights, the shittiest days of the week that don't matter if I spend them doing dumb shit I don't want to do. It's also when there's the least amount of other shoppers at the stores I go to.

House chores are done on Friday during the day bc I work from home and it's slow. Laundry, vacuuming, bathroom deep clean, mopping.

Friday night hits and I'm free of obligation with a clean apartment and stocked groceries.

[wallwriterstuff]

Our Dearest Moments ||Alec Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: None, this is nice and fluffy

Words: 2964

Summary: A request for @royalvolturisblog    Forever is a long time to live, an occasionally a little reflection upon who we are and how we got here is needed to maintain our sanity, and decided some very important answers to equally as important questions.

Sometimes, life is not all we expect it to be. Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, life is disappointing. For me? I can safely say it’s none of these things. My life had always been easy, the best of everything and wanting for nothing. As doting as he was, my father had spoilt me rotten and never let me work hard for anything, never given me life skills that most normal people would need to live a functioning, adult existence. Why would I need them? Money was not a problem for my family nor would it ever be, so why go to the hassle of building a life where a nine to five job sapped the life from me when I could, quite sustainably, simply enjoy my life to its fullest at my loving father’s expense? Why make your child work if there was no need? I would not settle for a subpar life as nothing in my life had ever been less than luxurious.

That was my life in a nutshell. It was flat screen TVs in a ginormous bedroom which would have fit some people’s houses inside it, four poster beds and every new games console, every makeup palette fresh off the manufacturers line and vacations to the most remote and lavish corners of the Earth. I never even had to ask for some of it, my father simply expected I would want things and provided them without request – as those of guilt soul are wont to do.

“Well? What do you say?” Alec asked, his lips pressing the gentlest of kisses against my shoulder. I hummed, leaning back against him.

“Forgive me, I was hardly listening to a word you said, my mind is…elsewhere.” I admitted. Alec squeezed my hips, arms widening around my waist to tighten his hold on me.

“You’re ignoring me now? How very rude. I thought we were passed this.” He chided, though his tone was more playful than scolding.

“Call it introspection.” I sighed. Alec chuckled.

“Introspection? Now that sounds dangerous. I happen to like you as you are, if you haven’t noticed.” He teased, pressing a kiss to my temple. I turned in his arms with a smile. He stood a little taller than I did but I didn’t mind; it always gave me the best angle of the soft curve of his jawline, the fullness of his lips that didn’t like to stray from my own for too long. It also gave me the perfect excuse to nestle my head against his collarbone, escape those all seeing crimson eyes of his. Alec had seen right through me from the very start.

“I happen to know, you inform me every day…you sap.” I smiled a little as he lifted a hand to play with my hair.

“Then why decide to be introspective? What is there to reflect on? What would you wish to change?” he questioned.

“I already have changed,” I pointed out, lifting my hand to play with his coven crest, “I actually work for a living now.” Alec actually laughed at that, pulling back to feign shock.

“You? Spoilt? I would never have guessed.” he teased. He wasn’t wrong. Even now my room was lavish, silks and fine fabrics and luxuries filling every corner, but at least this time I had worked for it. Being a part of the Volturi was a privilege in itself but it required hard work, it required proving your worth and working for the greater good of your species. It was rather odd, how I had turned my entire life philosophy around in the span of a few centuries. Maybe it was Alec, making me humbler and wiser. Perhaps I owed some of it to Vladimir and Stefan, who had taught me to fight for what I wanted rather than throw money at it. I could still remember that fateful day, though faces and names were murky now in my ‘old age’.

Samuel and Scott were two boys I had craved the presence of a lot in my human days, though I couldn’t honestly tell you why anymore. Perhaps it was the familiarity of money, or the comfort that came from knowing someone of your status and experience walked alongside you and understood your world view, but they were the closest friends I had for a long time. What was better than going on vacation with your friends at the closing of exam season? Rome had been beautiful, the sights enamouring and the food…I suppose it was okay – my tastebuds had changed since then. I could still vividly recall the kind of heat I wasn’t accustomed to back home, and the dazzling brightness of the sunlight that spotted my vision and made my ever blurry human memories seem even worse quality somehow. I also remembered laughter, and warmth, the kind of warmth that flooded your soul and felt like a good hug on the worst of days. It was strange, the things that stayed with you.

Then there was too much warmth. The process to immortalise one’s body came at the cost of burning the eternal soul till only a shell was left behind, petrified and cold. That was how Stefan put it at least in his usual, grim way. The memories of my time with them had most certainly been the most vivid, since I was very much a vampire by then and I could remember every little glance, every change in the tone of their voice. Those days….those days were full of anger. My doting father taken from me, my best friends none the wiser as to where I had gone and yet never once pleading on the news for my safe return as most others did for their loved ones. Through time and trial and error, Vladimir and Stefan had shown me that I had actually lost nothing in this life, only gained. I was stronger, swifter, better than any human version of myself could ever be.

Then came the gift.

It had been purely accidental at first. Another boy taken in by Stefan only to be turned (in what I would later find out was an attempt at raising a small army) was similarly gifted. He had the quite remarkable ability to make anything he touched smaller or larger, depending on what he wished it to look like, and unintentionally I had taken his gift to use for myself. He hadn’t stayed much longer after that, Vladimir and Stefan reluctant to let him part but allowing it – only because they knew the Volturi would send the Guard after an unruly newborn causing havoc. Why should they need him when they had me? They had been the ones to train my gift, an enhanced trait from my human life they had said – as I had taken what I wanted then I could do so now with startling efficiency. By the time Alec had arrived I had not truly gotten it under control, hence my confrontation with Jane.

It turns out the unruly newborn had been smarter than we thought, and the Masters’ had dispensed the Guard to see about this gifted vampire the Romanian’s had collected. At this point it had been months since we’d even seen the boy, years since Vladimir and Stefan had stolen me from Rome’s streets on one of their daring missions taking them close to Volturi territory. My gift had made me indispensable to them, though I like to believe that on some level they cared for me as a person, given all the gifts and birthday celebrations they had indulged in for me. There had been trips and movie nights all at my request, and affectionate gestures such as hugs and chaste kisses to my forehead that had lulled me into the false sense of security that I was where I ought to be.

“Your mind keeps wondering. I happen to be trying to ask you a very important question.” Alec was sounding a tad frustrated with me now and my eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, really, I just…do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you can’t escape thinking about the past? Thinking about the things that led you to this moment?” I sighed. It was perhaps a tad dramatic, perhaps even silly of me to be this distracted by such errant thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave me be. Alec stared at me for a long moment, and then he tucked a lock of stray hair behind my ear and swept me off of my feet to seat us on the sofa before our fireplace. Draped across his lap as I was, he had made me his sole focus and gave me his undivided attention now.

“I can’t say I do, so explain it to me. What are you thinking of in particular?” he questioned. My head tilted slightly, the briefest of smiles tugging at my lips.

“Demetri fixing up his nose the day we met.” I giggled. Alec snorted, eyes rolling.

“Vladimir did hit him rather hard.” He agreed. The commotion hadn’t much bothered me, my head buried too deep in my book to really be bothered by such trivial things, but then he had screamed. It was a blood-curdling kind of scream, the sort you heard in slasher movies when the victim is disposed of. It was the first time I had seen Jane’s gift in action, and the only time since I had stolen it. I had only meant to shove the menacing little blonde away from the man I had grown to see as a second father, only to accidentally set her own gift on her. She had crumpled like a straw doll, screaming all the while, and anyone else who came at me went down the same way.

Felix, Demetri and Jane just writhed on the stone floor while I tried and failed to keep Alec at bay, the mate bond I had unknowingly just set with him the moment we locked eyes preventing me from hurting him and vice versa. His mist had danced at the edges of my feet as he gave me more warnings than I was sure was customary of a Guard with his reputation until I managed to calm the raging inferno in my own mind, and douse the flames in theirs.

“Then you misted me.” I recalled, scowling at him slightly. Alec looked amused.

“You were getting rather violent,” he pointed out, “I’d merely suggested an even trade, their lives for you accompanying us to Volterra, and poor Demetri lost his nose a second time that day.” I could still recall the crunch of his skin beneath my knuckles as I vowed to never let them take me anywhere, and now two centuries on I couldn’t bear the thought of being anywhere other than in Alec’s lap. His hand skimmed my arm as I dropped my head on his shoulder.

“You think he would forgive me for that by now.” I said. Alec chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Not in a million years, his ego is more fragile than his nose.” He murmured against my skin. I hadn’t been happy for a very long time after that. Dragged away from my home against my will and told it was all for a mate bond I hadn’t been ready to accept. I was cruel, very cruel, and I called Alec all sorts of filthy names. Neither him nor Jane had ever really done me wrong, yet still I rarely addressed them as anything other than ‘witch’ or ‘terrors 1 and 2’. I spent the majority of my days avoiding as many people as I could really, though I found Marcus to be quite calming and consequently ended up with the Masters’ more often than not. It was with their encouragement I ended up confronting my two-arch nemesis, their gentle prodding that had led me into Alec’s arms in the end.

“God I’m sure your mother would weep if she could see you now!”

“She did! She wept and pleaded with the villagers tying us to the stake until they caved her head in with stones. How about yours?”

I cringed slightly, the memory as fresh as if it had been just yesterday. Jane had looked ready to roast me that day, while Alec had cut me down to size with his words. Their mother’s fate, their deaths, they were nothing such of tragic incidents that should never have occurred, not to these two. It had triggered a memory I had thought had faded as most other human memories had, though I could see no eyes in the soft, familiar features of my mother’s face given I couldn’t remember the colour of them. She had been reaching for me in my dreams for years, that single bloodied hand protruding from the wreckage of a car only I had escaped from haunted me to this day. How far I had strayed from the woman she would have wanted me to become.

“How could you forgive me?” I asked finally. Alec raised his eyebrows.

“For punching Demetri in the face? Quite easily. I found it entertaining.” He answered.

“Not for that! For…everything else. I was nothing short of difficult and downright cruel to you.” I reminded him. Alec tilted his head, quietly making a noise of understanding. It wasn’t so long ago Alec had asked me to marry him, at least, five years didn’t seem all that long for a vampire. He shifted till I was facing him, straddling his lap and chest to chest with our noses almost touching.

“I forgave you because I loved you, even then. I didn’t see cruelty, I saw hurt that never truly healed. Our scarred hearts were made for one another, even if you weren’t ready to accept it.” He murmured.

“But all those awful names I called you…” I sighed, closing my eyes as shame ate away at my insides. Alec chuckled.

“Some were quite inventive, I’ll give you that,” he said wryly, “Y/N…you replaced every bad memory with a good one. The time you gifted me that bookmark because you knew how much I loved to read? The memory of our first walk in the Garden’s together where you taught me all about gardening and when the best time of year to plant certain flowers was. Our first kiss, the first time you held my hand even. You made the effort to make it right.” He kissed my nose sweetly before capturing my lips with his. His every kiss had been intoxicating since our very first one, the sweet taste of his mouth on mine addictive, the way his lips moved a hypnotic dance I could forever get lost in performing with him over and over. When we parted I pressed my forehead to his.

“I do love you, you know.” I swore. Alec flashed me a smile.

“I know, you impossible little brat,” he teased, tugging my hair lightly, “Now will you please listen to what I’ve been so desperately trying to ask you all day now?” My eyes rolled, but I nodded.

“Make it worth my while, baby.” I teased.

“Don’t, you know I hate when you call me that,” he warned, though his lips twitched upwards, “Y/N, my impossibly stubborn, talented little beauty. I’ve never been in doubt you love me, and I hope I’ve never given you reason to doubt that I love you just as much. You challenge and enrage me daily, yet you are also my greatest comfort and strength when I need you to be. So stop being so bloody awkward and marry me already!”

“That wasn’t a question.” I pointed out, eyebrows raising. Alec groaned exasperatedly, his head falling back against the back of the sofa. My head tilted slightly.

If my day of reflection had done anything, it was show me how far I had come. I was no longer the same spoiled little girl I had once been. I had become a protector of our kind, and my journey with Alec had humbled my tongue. I was perhaps wiser, far kinder. I had not felt worthy of the mantle before but seeing him beneath me now, my love so ardent in his affection and persistent in his showing of it, I realised I had no need to be afraid – I had proven my worth to Alec tenfold. Gripping his chin, I forced him to look at me. He looked rather frustrated.

“This is the modern era Alec,” I scolded, “I will never say yes to your proposal.”

“But-“

“Because you are going to be saying yes to mine. Marry me, Alec.” I didn’t ask, more stated it. I knew he wouldn’t say no. With another exasperated groan he shook his head.

“You do make me work for it don’t you? So long as I slip a ring on your finger I really don’t care who asks who. Fine, I’ll marry you.” He leaned in but I pressed a single finger to his lips, preventing him from kissing me. His eyebrows arched into his hairline, almost as if to say ‘what now?’.

“It’ll be a Winter wedding.” I decided. A brief smile flashed his lips upwards.

“Spring.” He retorted.

“And the bridesmaids will wear emerald green.” I continued.

“Peach.” He countered, his smile growing as I pulled my finger from his lips.

“Oh and I want diamonds Alec, they’re a girls best friend.” I grinned, our noses brushing now.

“You’ll get a cereal box ring and be happy with it for all the waiting you’ve made me do.” He huffed. I didn’t get to protest, not when he smothered my mouth with his own, both of us laughing as we let the past be and looked forward to our future instead.

[fairytale-endinganyone]

my parents are celebrating 41 years of marriage this year. yes 41. 

when I arrived, my siblings were teenagers and my parents were financially stable, they had just moved into a new home where we stayed for 20 + years (we recently moved to our current home).

I wanted to share some ‘take aways’ that I have noted from my parent’s marriage - i’ve tried my best to make this as real as possible.

my parents have never actually celebrated their anniversary. like most men my dad doesn’t remember the date of their marriage and yes at times mom has gotten annoyed at him for this but she also has never been big on ‘going all out’ and ‘celebrating’. my parents are old school (well they are boomers), their worlds don’t include Facebook or any social media. emails, youtube and news apps – yes.

my dad is a CA, him owning his own company means that he’s always had freedom over his working hours. he'd go to work around 11am & come back at around 5/6pm because that’s what suited him. even now, his morning includes two huge cups of tea, warming up my mom’s car while she’s getting ready for work and opening the gate, if its still dark or the weather is unsavoury he’ll tell her to on her lights and to drive slowly. my dad having the extra time in the morning also meant that he’d make sure I had a proper breakfast and was ready for school.

one time, me and mom were both home as it was term break (my mom is a vice principal) and dad spent more time than usual getting ready, he eventually came into the lounge looking sharp. I was at the table reading and saw my parents hugging - its not that I never saw them having tender moments, its just as a young & impressionable child, this moment has stuck with me.

there was an instance when we were at a function & an individual was being an asshole towards my mom – my dad told him to back off. the individual got the message and to this day doesn’t talk to my parents. yes, women are more than capable of defending themselves, but this instance gave me a realization of what a man should do if someone disrespects their woman.

a few years ago, my mom’s brother passed away, my mom was naturally broken and upset. during that time my dad took over the responsibilities that mom would usually do and he didn’t expect anything in return – there were no jabs of ‘I’ve done this and that’, he just simply did it to make sure mom had the time and space to grieve. 

recently, one of my uncle's passed away (my dad’s brother). mom came home early from work and simply just sat with him and made sure he had the time and space to grieve. in both instances, the other partner knew what the other needed.

their evenings are usually spent discussing current events or well, just being on their phones together. we're Muslim and these days my mom plays this game on her phone that helps her with her Arabic & she's gotten my dad hooked on it. they bring each other closer to God.

these instances may not seem ‘romantic’ to you, but to me they signify what a real relationship is. over the years they have had their misgivings, but their marriage is the foundation that I can always fall back on.

there’ve been times when i've talked about my parents marriage & what it means to me but I’ve almost always gotten shut down by people saying that ‘in the South Asian culture/community couples are never truly happy’.

I understand there are too many couples in our culture/community that are together because one person in the r/ship (usually the woman) doesn’t have anywhere else to go, or they don’t go their different ways because ‘what will people say’. I am by no means putting anyone down. this is just my parents’ story/life. they weren't forced to stay together, there was never an instance of my mom not having anywhere else to go – yes this comes from a place of privilege as my mom has always been a financially independent woman. I know that not all women are in the position that my mom is in & don’t have a choice but to stay in a relationship that may not be ideal & its hard to explain the hollow feeling this gives me.

i am immensely grateful that marriage ended up being a blessing for my parents. yes there are things I'd do differently with my (future) partner as times have changed and I as an individual (& a millennial) think differently about a lot of things.

also please dont come @ me with the: 'ur brainwashed and naive’. my parent's marriage is by no means perfect. it was arranged (surprise surprise) but its a blessing that it worked out. i just want to appreciate it.

[purplesurveys]

1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say?  I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games?  Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family?  No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall?  Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you?  My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!)  I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb?  Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm?  My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive?  Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged?  No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you?  I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female?  Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you?  My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate?  Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook?  No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in?  I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game?  Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater?  I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best?  Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have?  Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu?  Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months?  Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life?  Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience.  Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for?  Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex.  Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it?  It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you?  I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see?  Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping?  I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious?  Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank?  No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate?  Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship?  Nope.

What was the last song you listened to?  It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision?  Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests?  I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone?  I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think?  To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy?  Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained?  Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours?  Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language?  I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at?  Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you?  Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House?  Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry?  Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture?  No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on?  Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo?  Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes?  My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it?  “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want.  Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller?  Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people?  It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in?  That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during?  Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during?  Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant?  Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like?  Anything with fruits.

Favorite album?  After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it?  I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space?  Outer space.

Dogs or cats?  Dogs.

Kittens or puppies?  Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching?  Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal?  I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school?  History.

What was your worst subject in school?  Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school?  Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon?  Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls?  Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom?  For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist?  I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now?  Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad?  I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad?  It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out?  Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call?  Nope.

Who are you closest to?  Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience?  No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything?  Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today?  Nah.

Can you handle blood?  Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job?  No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon?  I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job?  No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick?  No?

[city-writes]

Sleeping in the Midday Sun

Yami hopes to get a quick nap in before Yugi and Jounouchi come home.

It's not quick.

For @ygotplusweek! For Sunday’s prompt of “How does your ship hold hands or cuddle with each other?”

Warnings: Post-Canon Pairing(s): Yami Yugi/Yugi Mutou/Katsuya Jounouchi (Feathershipping)

Read it here on AO3! Commission info!

______________________

The walk from the Kame Game Shop to the apartment was not a long one.

The path was one well traveled, one of routine. Yami walked this path alone both early morning and late afternoon, not minding the alone time in the slightest. After all, he'd spent millennia alone in the Puzzle, what was 15 minutes here and there each day? Technically, he wasn't even 'alone', he'd had the privilege of being surrounded by people, whether they be walking to their destinations, hanging out at the shops he passed by, or driving on the roads next to him, things solitude in the Puzzle denied him of.

He'd been walking for a little while now, having left the Kame Game Shop after his near daily shift there. Yugi's grandfather had let him go early, as today had been one of the Game Shop's rarer slow days when it came to customers, and after having seen exactly what time he was let off of work excited him somewhat. It was only 3:00; there might have been a chance he'd get back to the apartment before Yugi and Jounouchi did.

Maybe he could sneak in a quick nap.

While yes, the Game Shop had had a slower day than normal in terms of customers, they'd had a busy day in terms of product delivery and reorganization in both the back and front of the shop. Yami had lugged around several boxes chock-full of new cards and board games, offering to do it all single-handedly so Yugi's grandfather didn't have to strain his back, had helped the old man restock their cards and games, and had crafted Duel Monsters decks fit for beginners at the behest of Yugi's grandfather, so that they could prepare for a special sale day they had coming up soon, which focused on bringing in new customers.

So Yami was looking forward to some much needed down time.

As he rounded the corner of the street he was on, the apartment complex came into view, and Yami gave a sigh of relief, his body begging him to just get home and onto a bed, a couch, something comfortable enough to grant him a brief slumber.

It wasn't long at all before he was at the door, keys jingling as he pulled them from his pocket, unlocking the door. Stepping into the apartment, Yami blinked at the darkness that lay before him, smiling before flicking on a light and closing the door behind him. Good. Being greeted by a dark apartment meant Yugi and Jounouchi weren't back yet.

He was quick to kick off his shoes and head towards the bedroom, shedding his work clothes and slipping into a pair of pajamas. Sure, it had only just turned about 3:20-ish now that he was home, but he had no plans to go anywhere else for the rest of the day, and Yugi and Jounouchi rarely went out themselves on school nights after coming home from their courses at Domino University. So he felt content in his choice of clothing, giving a yawn before crawling into bed. He moved to rearrange the pillows somewhat, before laying his head down, and allowing sleep to claim him quickly.

_______________________

"Damn, that exam really kicked my ass today, Yug'." Jounouchi whined as he and Yugi began their walk home, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up at the sky. "I did all that studyin' and I'm still feelin' like I'm gonna bomb it."

Yugi shook his head at Jounouchi's words. "I'm sure you did just fine, Jounouchi-kun." Yugi raised a hand to pat Jounouchi's arm, and the tall blond sighed in response, pulling his hands away from the back of his head to instead let his arms hang. "Would some burgers help?"

"Yug', do ya even need to ask?"

Yugi laughed at that as the two changed their course, now walking to Burger World and getting a bag full of burgers and fries to-go. Jounouchi offered to carry the brown paper sack, and the two kept the conversation going all the way back to their apartment, Yugi playfully shaking his head as he pulled out the keys from his pocket. "You're really gonna eat three and a half burgers?"

"Well, I mean, the half is assumin' Yami don't eat his full burger like he normally don't." Jounouchi shot Yugi a grin. "But I only got myself 2 things a' fries, so I think I'll have room for the burgers."

"Jounouchi-kun, you're ridiculous." Yugi said with a smile as he opened the door, "I'm lucky if I can even eat two burgers, and..." Yugi trailed off as he blinked, looking at the lit apartment. "... Jounouchi-kun, did we forget to turn of the lights before we left?"

Jounouchi looked inside, frowning slightly. "I don't think so? I thought I gottem before we did." Whereas Yugi was quick to slip out of his shoes and walk into the apartment, Jounouchi looked down at the area of the floor where they kept their shoes, his head tilting slightly as he noticed Yami's work shoes. "Did Yami get home early?" Jounouchi looked to Yugi then. "His shoes are here."

Yugi blinked at that. "Maybe? He's never been home before us though." A tinge of concern coursed through Yugi then, frowning as he looked around for Yami. "I hope he didn't get sick or something..."

"Nah," Jounouchi said as he kicked his shoes off, stepping into the apartment as well, kicking the door closed behind him. "He's probably fine!" He made his way to their kitchen table then, placing the Burger World bag and his school bag on it before sighing. "I'm gonna change into some sweatpants. We ain't goin' nowhere else."

"At least put on a throwaway shirt." Yugi said as he watched Jounouchi make his way towards the bedroom. "You and I both know you're gonna get messy eating three and a half burgers."

Jounouchi smirked at Yugi's words, stopping just shy of the bedroom door before he turned and looked at Yugi. "What? Nah. You just don't wanna get distracted while you're eatin'." He teased, causing Yugi to flush red somewhat.

"I-- Just go change!"

Jounouchi laughed, and headed into the bedroom, only to stop again after opening the door.

"Jounouchi-kun, I said go chan--"

Jounouchi shot Yugi an amused smirk, putting a finger up to his lips to quiet him. He then nodded his head over in a sign to get Yugi to come see, and Yugi obliged, walking over to the bedroom door to see what Jounouchi saw.

There, snuggled comfortably in bed, was Yami.

Yugi smiled softly at the sight. Yami was sleeping on his side in the center of the bed, holding onto Yugi's pillow like it was Yugi himself, and his back pressed against Jounouchi's pillow, like it was Jounouchi there behind him. The look on his face was so peaceful, so relaxed, so... serene. It was a rare expression on the ex-pharaoh's face, one that only Yugi and Jounouchi got to see.

"Guess he had a busy day at the Game Shop." Yugi murmured, the gentle smile never leaving his face.

"Guess so." Jounouchi murmured back. With an exhale, Jounouchi moved from his spot in the doorframe, quietly changing out of his clothes and into his favorite pair of sweatpants and an old shirt. He could feel Yugi's gaze on him as he changed, but said nothing, not wanting to tease the duelist and risk waking up Yami. Though he did give the other male a knowing smirk, causing Yugi to flush red all over again. Jounouchi snickered, though instead of walking back to the door to go and eat, he walked to the side of the bed.

"Jounouchi-kun?" Yugi whispered, not wanting to wake Yami. "What are you doing?"

Jounouchi's nose scrunched as he looked over Yami's sleeping position, and Jounouchi folded his arms, shaking his head. "Pretty ballsy of the guy, thinkin' he could replace me with a pillow."

Yugi blinked at that. "Huh?"

He then watched as Jounouchi pulled his pillow away from behind Yami and back into its original spot, before shedding his shirt and climbing into bed, laying on his side as he scooted closer to Yami. When Yami didn't wake up from the sudden movement, Jounouchi's brows raised and he smirked. "Damn, he must really be tired." With that, Jounouchi draped his arm across Yami, gently pulling the ex-pharaoh closer to him.

"Jounouchi-kun...!" Yugi looked worried, his gaze looking from Yami, to Jounouchi, and back again. "Don't wake him up!"

Jounouchi tilted his head over to the other side of Yami, looking at Yugi as he did so. "You wanna get in on this?" He murmured, "Or do you wanna let a pillow take your place?"

Yugi blinked at that, his lips curling slightly into a small frown. Like hell he was gonna let himself be replaced by a pillow while his boyfriends snuggled without him! Not bothering to change out of his clothes into something more comfortable, Yugi made his way to the other side of the bed, looking at Jounouchi before looking at the pillow that was threatening to take his place. Carefully, like moving a block out of a Jenga tower, Yugi gently pulled his pillow out of Yami's hold, placing it back in its spot.

A hum of displeasure left Yami as he felt the loss of comfort in his arms, sleepily murmuring a whine of "aibou" that nearly caused Jounouchi to snort in amusement. Yugi was quick to climb into bed, snuggling close up to Yami, whose arms were quick to latch around him, even in sleep. Yugi smiled triumphantly, resting his head on Yami's shoulder, when he felt Jounouchi's hand on his arm.

"Ain't this better than a pillow?" He heard the tall blond quietly ask through a yawn, amusement laced in his tone.

Yugi smiled. "Yeah, Jounouchi-kun." He murmured in response, yawning himself as he nuzzled Yami's shoulder. "Yeah, it is."

[c-e-bernard]

Three things I would have liked to have known when I started out as a story-teller

There is a Novel Writing Workshop at the University of Bonn. I happen to be one of its teachers. In Germany, the university semester has started with a few weeks’ delay, although we can only meet the students digitally.

So I had to open the semester somehow. And I had to do it properly. And I had to do it from the tiny window of a zoom meeting, staring at my own face as it talked.

Here’s what that face of mine said:

Three things I would have liked to have known when I started out

 There are very many things I would have liked to have known when I started out telling stories, and writing books, and putting on plays. I would have liked to know, for example, that drinking one pot of black tea a day is perfect, because it keeps your hands warm and your eyes open. Three pots, on the other hand, are an attack on your heart and make you sweat in an unfavourable manner, so you really shouldn’t do that.

There are things I have learnt even more important than tea however, although that may be hard to believe. Things that I have found I need, truly need, to live and to survive as a story-teller. Here are three of them:

 First of all, I would have liked to have known that there is nothing better for your writing than truth.

Being truthful when you write, in everything you write. This begins with deciding what it is that you want to write. Not to write the book that a publisher, or your mum, or the larger demands of society, would require or like you to write; not to write the book that would please your editor if you’ve got one, or your best friend, or your partner; not to write the book that you think the world needs, or that you would like to read; instead, to write the book that you want to write.

In order to be truthful, you need to listen to yourself. You need to get know yourself. You need to realise that what you want is just as important and relevant as what everybody else wants. And you need to take the time and find out what pleases you to write, what is fun for you to put on the page.

And you need to be brave. Because being truthful means making yourself vulnerable. As Neil Gaiman says it so beautifully in Art Matters:[*]

 “The moment you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself.

That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.”

 Secondly, I would have liked to have known that there is one essential tool that you need to tell a story, any story, and to putting them out into the world: You cannot do it without trust.

Writing a novel, telling a story, means running for a cliff, and then to keep running and not to look down so that you do not realise that there is no ground under your feet.[†] This is true whether you write, or edit, or put it out into the world. You have to trust the process, and trust that the writing of each single word, each sentence, each chapter will end in a finished book. And a good one, too. Sometimes, the process might take you to a paradise. Sometimes, it may end with a shipwreck.[‡] But whatever the destination, you have to get onboard for it, otherwise it cannot take you anywhere. And you need to trust yourself. That you can bear and love and survive the journey.

 And I am not going to lie: Truth and trust, they can be exhausting.

So there is a third thing you need in order to survive:

It is kindness.

Telling stories is hard. Some may not believe it, but it is nevertheless true. Writing a book takes everything out of you. Each and every story will cost you. So first of all, you need to be kind to yourself. Take enough breaks, and do not ask too much of yourself. Follow the example of Stephen King: He sets himself a word count every day that he can easily manage. And that he does, every day. Sometimes it takes him two hourse, sometimes four. And then he stops. Or so he says.[§]

And secondly, try and find a place to work that is good for you, and, if you can, outside of your home, so that you do not live life in a work space. Thirdly, allow yourself leisure, and friends, and love, and to have fun. Play video games. Go to the movies. Put on a play. See your friends. Have lovers. (Though not the secret kind if you can help it.) Spend times with humans you love, and who love and support you. Fourthly, move your body, for you will need it to write those books. And fifthly, to write what you want and what is fun and important to you, that is also a kindness towards yourself.

This is not an office job. Do not try to work it like an office job. You have to be kind to yourself, or you will not make it.

And be kind to others, too. Be kind to the people in your stories. Every person in your story is their own person. Even when they are a fox. We need to understand them. We need to love them. Whether they are similar to us or very different, whether you would like for them to be your friends or would fend them off with a stick. Especially when you would fend them off with a stick, because then they might be more difficult to understand. We need to understand the people in our books, otherwise we do them wrong. And through that, we do humans wrong that are not fictional. We do wrong by humanity. By what makes us human. You and me. All of us. Shakespeare knew this. All the people in all his plays are full of folly, and folly is just what we need, because people are strange. We are strange. The world is strange. But it is so beautiful. And if we do not observe – if we do not look more closely, listen more closely, dig deeper – if we do not take the time and the effort to listen and look and to understand, and sometimes it can take years – then we are failing as story-tellers. We are failing as authors. Then we can go and write some thing or another for television and become rich and go to glamorous parties. But we will never touch a soul in our lives. We will only be a distraction. We will not change anyone’s life. We will not save someone. We will not give them meaning when they are desperate, or make them laugh when they are sad, or remind them that sometimes it is all right to be sad and that they do not have to pretend they are fine all the time. They will not find friends in our books, people who go with them through a lifetime, and life is hard, no matter how privileged. Life is hard. We have to do what we love. We have to write what we love. And we have to love what we write, and who we write, and the person who writes.

So in the end, this is about love, and about truth, and about trust.

Be kind.

Be truthful.

Trust yourself, and trust the story.

 I wish I’d known all of this when I started out.

And the truth is: I am still learning it myself.

[*] I whole-heartedly recommend that you go out and get yourself a copy of this book, because it might truly save you on a day where you feel you cannot go on telling stories, and that day will come, trust me.

[†] This, too, I have learnt from Neil Gaiman in his masterclass. He is my close personal friend, evidently.

[‡] Another thing I have learnt from Neil Gaiman in his masterclass. I highly recommend it. You can find it on MasterClass.com.

[§] Or so he says in his book On Writing; if I am to believe my good friend Robin, who will not stop raving about that book to me.

Thank you to the University of Bonn for providing me with the opportunity to write this text, and have those thoughts, and to tell them a very kind audience.

[thesmallworldofsamizayn]

How not to feel like there are ants under your skin when you realise you’re in the presence of someone more talented than you will ever be: a beginner’s guide

I know I’m very late to the party but I just played (watched?) The Beginner’s Guide and I need to set this down.

I went into the game with no idea that it was a mockumentary, and really only twigged that Coda wasn’t real in the final act, which might make me incredibly thick or it might make Wreden a very talented storyteller, I don’t know, but either way the effect was that this story-thing got in me in a personal way that I haven’t really felt from media in a while. I felt, oh, what’s the word, seen by it, or something, I guess. 

this is long. I don’t want to waste people’s valuable scrolling time, so

Davey in the Beginner’s Guide cannot imagine living his life unmotivated by validation, which is why he doesn't understand Cody and why he makes the narrative in the first place. He sees a friend creating fantastic, inventive and - to his mind - meaningful art, none of which is shown to the public, and this drives him insane. He never says as much in the narration, and seeing as this is the guy who made the Stanley Parable I don’t know if it’s quite the emotion he’s reaching for, but at least for me, I completely associate this feeling with my intense competitiveness and insecurity about writing. Specifically how that translates into a feeling of agonising pins and needles all over me, the moment I’m confronted by something good written by someone young, especially when that person is creating for themselves only. When they say something like, I never show my writing to anyone, or, I’ve filled hundreds of notebooks with words no one will ever see, it’s like a stake being driven slowly through my chest. Something about it, though it has nothing to do with me, makes me feel like a complete fraud, like I’ve missed the boat somewhere, and that’s the whole emotion behind this game. It changes into a need to make Coda into a project, a problem for Davey to solve, so that Davey can be the one in control, so that he can have something to be proud of: I figured out my friend. I fixed my friend. And of course, that makes it so much worse. 

The way I see it, Davey has two essential beliefs, which are challenged by Coda at the end of the story, the first of which takes precedence in the narrative, but the second of which is just as important, I think. 1. Coda is broken, and it’s Davey’s job to fix him. 2. Coda’s art, despite (or probably because of) its incomprehensibility, is better than Davey’s. 

The latter of these beliefs is not stated directly in the game, but it makes sense of everything to me. These two beliefs get tangled together so that a familiar fallacy is reached, that of the suffering artist - Coda’s art is great because he is depressive, and the fact that he never shows his art to anyone is a mind-boggling tragedy. But such a beautiful tragedy. Davey can be the deus ex machina. That’s how Davey can reconcile his own inadequacy, by inserting himself into the story, because once he faces himself, once Coda cuts himself off and removes his source of Davey’s validation, he finds nothing, no creativity, nothing to give. And he now has the additional terrible guilt of taking Coda away from the world too, leaving them both in the dark. It’s like Amadeus, if Salieri only intended to help Mozart, instead of destroying him. (Salieri being another figure I’ve expressed an uncomfortable affinity for, if only for the fact that he describes the sensation of hearing Mozart for the first time, without a trace of metaphor as pure bodily pain. Looking at his hands and seeing how useless they are, how incapable, dull blocks of flesh too blunt to produce the aural poetry that comes so effortlessly from his rival. We’ve all been there, pal.)

So the Beginner’s Guide called me out for my obsessive competitive streak, but it went further than that, and called me out for the thing I’ve always kind of used as a justification for all that bitterness, for the privileged life I never earned, for my own inadequacy as a creator, which is my need to help others.

I used to do the stupidest things sometimes. I think I was eight, this one time. I don’t remember what the context was, not even the country it happened in, but I remember that when I did it, I thought - or I was told - that this was a recurring pattern of behaviour I needed to stop. And I thought, why do I always do this? The thing was this: there was some kind of party, and there was a girl, younger than me. I must have taken a liking to her. I have zero memory of what she looked like, what we talked about, and why she meant so much to me, but I do remember that at some point in the evening she lost a plush bunny. We were outside for most of the function, a large garden wreathed with shrubbery and trees. And for at least half an hour, I circled this garden, frantically searching for this god damned bunny. The sense memories stay with you the most, and more than anything visual or factual I remember being out of breath from running round the place so many times, the wet leaves crunching underfoot and in my hands as I scoured every crevice. I was certain that it was for some reason up to me to find this toy, and feeling both indignant at the world that no one else seemed to care, and perversely gleeful that I cared enough to do it. 

I never found the toy, because it turned out to be in her father’s pocket. She’d given it to him and forgotten. I was so wrapped up in my idea of this person’s problem, the idea that I could solve their problem, the idea that only I could do it, that I wasted everyone’s time, not least my own. I don’t run round gardens anymore, but I think this drive is still in me. I’ve shaped it into simply being a good friend and listener and giver of pep talks or whatever, and I have pretty much made peace with the idea that I’m doing it for the validation, but this game threw me in for a loop, getting me scared of what it all means, making me second guess my actions and my tendency to do what the narrator does, to make people projects when I cannot finish my own. To know that I fixed someone, and to feel like I can carry the mantle of the therapist friend. 

When it got to the final level and Coda’s message, I was still under the impression that the whole thing was real and seeing it knocked the wind out of me. The idea of trying something like this, realising how utterly and devastatingly wrong you got it, and having to live with a broken friendship as a result, though it’s something I haven’t specifically had to go through, felt so viscerally plausible and close to home. All this selfishness bites you in the rear some day. And for it not only to be the consequence of selfishness, but the consequence of selfishness believed to be selflessness, that’s even more terrifying. Because lord knows I second guess myself enough as it is, whatever I’m doing. 

We all do, right? This story is going to be really good. Oh, wait, what if it’s terrible. I just had a good and productive conversation with someone I care about. Except, hang on, what if what I said was actually extremely insensitive and they’re just trying to forget it now? I’m sure Catbells isn’t anywhere near Coniston, but that person just said it was, and actually, you know what, they’re probably right. That vertigo, that swooping stomach-turned over sensation when you can just feel the foundations of something you believed in shudder beneath your feet, I’m sick of it. I’d like to be certain of what I’m doing for once. If I had any certainty at all, I could get on with my work. I could write and write until I was finally good enough to feel happy with myself, instead of sitting in fear of my documents. I would probably do a better job of being the therapist friend too, not having this overhanging fear that I’m somehow doing the wrong thing.

I don’t even know what I wrote this for, to be honest. Most of it doesn’t make sense, and I was hoping it would add up to something, that these disjointed thoughts would come together. As I have so often done, I leapt in with great vague ideas, and have ground to a halt as the picture became clearer. And if I were forced to admit the true reason for writing it, it would be that I thought it made for a good written piece, something that someone could read and think “wow. this person just wrote something good.” because god forbid, right? god forbid I ever do anything in life and have it not be for the validation

[ahyperactivehero]

5 or 7 from the newest list? Angst~~~

Ohhh what if I combined them~! I hope you enjoy!!!!

X

“Wake up! Please wake up.”/ “Don’t you ever do that again!”

X

Life could be lonely when you were one of the only operatives on Earth. Sure, other angels visited from time to time, primarily Gabriel, to check in and make sure he was still ‘fighting the Good fight’, but they didn’t mean much to Aziraphale. What did it matter if all of Heaven was down on Earth if none of them could understand why he enjoyed food or books or music that didn’t feature in The Sound of Music?

Maybe that’s why he and the demon Crowley had hit it off. The Arrangement, while originally Crowley’s idea, was certainly something that benefited Aziraphale just as much (sometimes even more so) than the demon, and had led to far too many evenings together discussing everything they had experienced on Earth so far.

He’d deny it, but he’d grown rather fond of Crowley, far fonder than he had ever intended to.

Which is why he was…uneasy when Crowley failed to show up at their scheduled meeting place. They’d both had this meeting arranged months ago, Aziraphale was sure of it, and he’d even managed to memorize the list of meeting places well enough to know for sure that he was at the right one.

He checked his pocket watch. It had already been two hours, but what was two hours to immortal beings? Two hours could pass in the blink of an eye, so it was entirely possible that Crowley hadn’t even noticed he was late yet.

Yet standing there, not knowing what had caused the demon’s delay, was enough to send a spark of worry running through him, causing the short amount of time to feel like ages. What if Hell had caught wind of their Arrangement? 

He shivered as he thought of what they might do to Crowley. Sure, he was their Golden Boy when he was at the top of his game and taking credit for all of the terrible things humans were doing, but that didn’t mean they would give him any slack if they found out he’d been fraternizing with an angel.

He sighed and checked his watch again, as if that might somehow force Crowley to appear. Still, the bus stop was just as empty as it had been. A few people walked past, but none of them had the familiar red hair or strange strut that Crowley did.

Would it be too strange to go to Crowley’s flat to check on him? He knew it would be odd, but his main concern was overstepping the boundaries they had set in place for themselves. Crowley showing up at his bookshop wasn’t strange, but Aziraphale showing up unannounced at Crowley’s place? Practically unheard of.

He could always use an excuse, he supposed. If Heaven found out, he could always say that he had simply been checking to make sure that the demon wasn’t getting up to any trouble. 

And if anyone from Hell was there… well, he’d just have to figure out what to do about that when he got to it.

Sighing, he resigned himself to actually catching the bus he was at the stop for and riding it over to see Crowley. It wouldn’t hurt to just check in, after all.

X

The door was locked and there didn’t seem to be any sound coming from the otherside.

Part of him wanted to turn around and leave right then and there. It was obvious that Crowley wasn’t home, and even if he was he probably didn’t wish to be disturbed.

‘You know he’s here,’ Aziraphale thought to himself. ‘You saw that damned car of his out front.’

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and gave a small sigh. A simple snap later and he was inside the flat.

It was dark inside as it was lit by nothing but TV, but that wasn’t anything new. The few times Aziraphale had been anywhere Crowley lived it was usually dark, the decor usually draining most of the light into it’s black fabrics. There were a few splashes of color here and there with plants and decorations, but Aziraphale barely registered them.

The TV was on but muted, the room seeming to flicker as the scenes changed. Faintly, Aziraphale recognized one of the little old ladies on screen as being from Crowley favorite show, but he couldn’t quite remember the name at the moment.

In fact, most of his brain power was going towards the figure limply laying on the couch.

“Crowley?” he asked. He hesitantly stepped inside the flat and shut the door. His eyes darted around, looking for any signs that anyone else might be there, but he couldn’t sense anyone. 

He called out to the demon a bit louder as he approached. “Really, my dear, you must learn to use an alarm or something,” he said, his voice brighter than it had been. Here he’d been thinking that something terrible had happened, and Crowley had simply been having a nap.

Yet Crowley didn’t move. He didn’t even react as Aziraphale got closer, a sure sign that something was more than likely wrong.

“Crowley?” he said. With a snap the lights sprang on, flooding the room with far more light than should have been possible from the few lights in there. 

He dropped to his knees next to the demon, his hands hovering over him. He’d seen Crowley sleep for a long time before, but this seemed different. He wasn’t in bed, he wasn’t even in his night clothes for Somebody’s sake. It was as if he had simply passed out watching TV and didn’t wake up for whatever reason.

His hand immediately went to Crowley’s neck, searching for his body’s pulse. It was there, far fainter than Aziraphale had ever felt anyone’s pulse, but at least it was there.

“Wake up, dear,” Aziraphale said, reaching for Crowley’s shoulders. His head hung back, his neck stretching at an almost odd angle as Aziraphale gently shook him. “Crowley! Wake up!”

Still, those large yellow eyes stayed shut. Aziraphale glanced around desperately, wondering if there was anything that might be able to help him, but all he noticed was the shaking plants and the TV continuing to play the next episode. 

“Please wake up,” Aziraphale said. He scooted Crowley over until he could sit down and rest his head in his lap. He ran his hands through the bright red hair that was practically plastered to Crowley’s head, and couldn’t help but think about the fit he would have if he knew what his hair looked like at the moment.

With a glance up to Heaven and a quick prayer to Her, he reached out to touch Crowley’s chest and allowed his Angelic nature to search for what might be the issue.

It was harder to find things that were bothering a demon rather than an angel, as Aziraphale hadn’t had much experience in that department, but he could tell that the demon seemed drained. It was like all of his energy was gone, but his body was still here.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. He closed his eyes as he tried to find out what exactly was ailing the demon, but he didn’t seem to be able to dig much deeper than that.

There was nothing for him to do about the demon’s low energy. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with the demon, so it would simply have to be a waiting game until he woke up.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for him to wake up.

“Azzziraphale?” Crowley asked, his voice soft and his words hissing. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Aziraphale startled, his eyes popping open and quickly retracting his hand from Crowley’s hair. “Oh!” he said. “Are you alright?”

Serpent eyes blinked up at Aziraphale in confusion before sliding closed again. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’re you doin’ here?” he asked, a bit more coherent this time.

“Well, when you failed to show up for our meeting I figured I better come and- and make sure you weren’t causing too much trouble.”

Crowley snorted. “Nope, no trouble. Just sleeping.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to brush his limp hair back out of his face. “I couldn’t wake you up,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “And you’re so low on energy. What happened?”

Crowley waved his hand weakly, almost as if he were trying to just wave the whole incident away. “Sorry, angel. Didn’t realize that was today.” He gave a huge sigh before he tried to sit up. At that moment he seemed to realize where he was laying. 

“Oh, sorry,” Aziraphale said as he helped push Crowley into a sitting position. It was just as slanted as his posture always was, but this time there was a sort of tiredness that clung to his entire being that made it obvious that it was something that was needed rather than an artistic choice today.

“You never answered what happened,” Aziraphale said. He held his hand out, like he might touch Crowley, before drawing his hand back. “You were so low on energy that I could barely sense you. I thought- or rather, it seemed like, you might not come back.”

Crowley gave another snort as he dropped his head onto the back of the couch. “Hell got wind of some of the things that I had been working on lately and thought that they weren’t “diabolical” enough,” he said, stretching his legs out. “So I’ve been running around with Hastur lately. Trying to make sure he doesn’t completely ruin my plans or eat too many people, which is basically a full time job on top of my job.” He let out a very unamused laugh. “Beelzebub said that I should consider it a privilege to work alongside the Duke of Hell, that we could really learn a lot from each other.”

Aziraphale knew from past experience that Crowley’s definition of demonic actions and Hell’s definition tended to differ greatly, especially when it came to Duke Hastur’s. 

“I guess I just let myself get a little bit more drained that I had really planned to,” Crowley said. He looked down at his hands as if he might be inspecting them for something, but didn’t see it. His eyes started to close again. “I dunno. I’m just exhausted.”

Aziraphale wanted to beg him to stay awake with him, as he knew he’d be reminded of Crowley’s weak and limp form if he were to go to sleep now, but he also didn’t feel like he had any right to ask that from him.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?” he asked. He felt the need to be helpful to Crowley right now.

Crowley opened one eye but otherwise didn’t move. “Nah, I don’t think there’s really anything for you to do.”

Aziraphale nodded, unsatisfied. Surely there was something he could do…

“I could make tea,” Aziraphale said. He glanced off to the side, where he was pretty sure Crowley’s kitchen was. “We could sit here and watch some more of your Silver Ladies.”

A tired smile came to Crowley’s face. “Golden Girls, angel.”

“Oh yes, right. Well, then, I’ll get started on that tea.”

A few moments later the two of them were settled in on Crowley’s couch, a blanket Aziraphale had miracled covering both of them, and their tea warming their hands. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what Crowley saw in the show exactly, but he did have to admit that it was charming and the fact that Crowley liked it made it even better.

After an episode or two Crowley began to drift off. His head came to rest near Aziraphale’s arm, and he couldn’t help but remember the fear he’d felt earlier at seeing Crowley’s still form. 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Aziraphale said, hoping that his voice sounded half as strong as he wanted it to.

Crowley said nothing. Instead, he snuggled down closer to Aziraphale, his face firmly buried against his arm.

XX

Remember you guys can ask me to do any of the prompts that I’ve shared, I just need to know which ones! ^^

[medschoolash]

Do you mind sharing more your road to medical school? Only if you’re comfortable of course?

yeah sure anon! I’ve actually never written my full story on here or anywhere so I’m glad I get the chance to do it now and hopefully this encourages someone else to keep pursuing their goals or dreams. 

Warning this is a long story . 

so I graduated with a degree is biology back in 2012, it took me 5 years to finish that degree. I was initially a biochemistry major and I changed halfway thru, which put me behind a semester. The semester I was supposed to graduate my depression, something I had struggled with since childhood but never quite acknowledged, had worsened to the point that I could barely function as a student, so I ended up failing every class I took that semester which meant I had to comeback for another semester. 

My final semester in undergrad I prayed everyday for just Cs, that’s what I needed to graduate and that’s all I really wanted because I had zero energy to invest anymore. God heard my prayers and I finished the semester with straight Cs. 

this is the face of a depressed girl who had finished an academic journey well below where she’s used to being but who is grateful she even got to finish at all.

It’s safe to sat that after my terrible academic performance my medical school chances were shot to hell and my confidence in my ability to actually be a doctor what almost zero. I was an amazing student in HS, won every award imaginable, was student of the year, etc but undergrad just didn’t go that way for me. I started off strong and gradually declined as my mental health problems became worse and worse. So to finish the next part of my academic journey at such a low place academically was a blow to me. After graduation I had to make a decision about what I would do next. I thought about doing a post bac program but I couldn’t mentally handle more school and I had zero desire to get a masters in biology when I was so miserable as a biology major.

I ended up deciding to take a year off after graduation. I have amazing parents who support me so they were okay with my decision. I didn’t work or attend school and at times I felt like I was just wasting my life but I did do a lot of soul searching and I discovered what I was really passionate about it life. That time off gave me a chance to mentally rest and recover from a very hard phase of my life. It gave me the freedom to get to know myself better without the pressures and responsibilities of life. I was always aware that this was a privilege that a lot of people don’t get which made me extremely grateful for it. During this time period I was introduced to the field of public health. My best friend had left some months before to pursue a Masters degree in public health and she mentioned she felt I would like it. During my break I looked into it and I learned that it was the perfect combination of all that things I was passionate about at that time: medicine, community, service, and advocacy. The more I explored the field and myself the more I became sure that this was the next step in my path, that this would be the place that I could fine fulfillment while also doing something that could potentially made me a better medical school candidate. while I researched school I started a community health initiative through my church, volunteered in my community, and did small things that made me feel like I had purpose and was making some sort of difference in the world. 

One night when I was up at 3am binge watching the early seasons of game of thrones I saw an email about a school in California that offered a Masters of Public Health degree via their School of Community and Global health. I had always wanted to live in California and the school was perfect for what I was looking for so despite knowing that my grades technically weren’t what they needed to be for a graduate program (yes my undergrad GPA that THAT low) I applied to the school. I even took a huge risk and applied to ONLY that school because that’s how much faith I had about this being the next step for me. It was stressful waiting to hear back from the school and I had many moments of doubting if it was the right decision. I applied to the school in early 2013. The end of July early august approaches and I still haven’t heard anything back even though school starts the first week of September. All of my friends and family knew I would get in but I was seriously doubting. They believed in me so strongly they even gave me a surprise going away party before I even got accepted. 

My dad later encourages me to call the school so I call, fully expecting to hear that I was rejected. At the end of that phone call I learn that I had gotten into the school but I never received my acceptance letter because there was a mix up in their office with the reporting of my GRE scores. I cried as soon as I was told I was granted a conditional acceptance so I barely even processed that it was conditional and not full right away. Either way I was just happy that my faith had paid off, I was going to be attending a school in my dream area and studying something I was passionate about. 

I had less than 1 month to move halfway across the country which was hectic but my family was amazing and made the quick transition a breeze. In August 2013 I moved and once  I got there I now had to finally force myself to deal with the fact that I had a conditional acceptance looming over my head and if I didn’t perform up to par I would be dismissed.  This was also a very  expensive private school that is a part of a very prestigious consortium of colleges that based on stats I shouldn’t have even been accepted into. So  I couldn’t afford to fail at this.  This was stressful at first because my confidence in myself academically still wasn’t great after my experience in undergrad. Long story short tho, I needed to maintain at-least a 3.3 my first semester in order to be granted full acceptance and continue in the program…. I ended up with a 4.0 that first semester. I shocked myself with my performance and doing that well really gave me a much needed boost of confidence. After this first semester I slowly started to allow myself to really dream of medical school again and believe it was possible.

My Graduate experience ended up being exactly what I needed. I met amazing people while in my program, got to experience an amazing city like Los Angeles, and I started to really understand what kind of physician I wanted to be going forward. It was during this program that I realized that there was more to medicine than the science and that It should take more than just perfect grades to call yourself an MD.  I learned that I needed to be a doctor that their patients could trust, that could see the bigger picture outside of just their disease, that could advocate for them, that could treat them with respect and understand everything that affects their quality of life like income status, race, educational background, access to affordable transportation, food and healthcare, and health policy. This is where I decided that I wanted to be a primary care provider instead of a neurologist, where I finally found what my purpose truly was. It wasn’t to just be a doctor for the sake of being a doctor, it was to be a true servant of the people on a community level and global level. 

Despite all this amazing growth and the amazing experience, during my final year my depression and anxiety started to rear it’s ugly head again. It was even more dejecting this time around because I was so happy, so content, living such an amazing life but no matter what I seemed like I couldn’t escape. At the end of 2014 I had health issues that made my mother fly out to California for a week to take care of me and I had huge mental breakdown in February of 2015 (I wrote about it on here before). I remember crying to my friend in the UK about how I was tired of the up and down and how I felt like it was just hopeless for me at this point. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t leave my house, couldn’t make myself eat. Even a small task like combing my hair, brushing my teeth, or putting on proper clothes felt like a chore that I couldn’t do. It was the worst I had ever been.

Once again my academic performance started to suffer again. The only thing that really saved me was the fact that I was pretty much done in the classroom at this point.  I was mostly working on my internship with the exception of one elective class . That’s the only reason my GPA didn’t take a huge hit but my internship was threatened every week. I worked for an amazing organization in LA county that was dedicated to serving the health needs of the incarcerated population. My preceptor was so flexible and amazing that when I told him I had issues with anxiety that were preventing me from coming to the office he helped me arrange working from home. He did all he could to help me finish even when I missed deadlines, appointments, etc because I couldn’t leave my house. More than once he had to be firm and tell my that If I didn’t do better I wouldn’t be able to continue but he always managed to find some grace to extend to me. His final act of grace was granting me an extension on my internship year. 

Basically what happened was by the time the beginning of May 2015 rolled around I did not have the hours to complete my internship. This was okay from a school perspective because it meant that I could still walk, but from an internship perspective I was very behind, well behind my initial contract and they didn’t have to extend it to allow me to finish. My preceptor sat me down and wrote out a plan that would require me to put in very strict hours until October of that year and if I finished by that deadline then they would sign my paperwork that would allow my degree to officially be conferred by the university. I was so grateful for the grace that I cried in his office.

I walked for graduation in the May 2015 ceremony got the summer off, then returned to california to complete my internship and my capstone. 

this was me on graduation day, 3 months after a major mental breakdown

Nothing but the grace of God got me through those months after my breakdown and the next few months. I mustered up every piece of energy and courage I could find and finished my Internship by my deadline in October and my preceptor signed off. My final project was designing an in custody Hepatitis eduction program to add on to their existing HIV education program, something that I am extremely proud of doing since LA county has one of the largest prison populations in the entire world and the vast majority of those incarcerated are black people. 

Immediately after my internship was done I went through a very trying family issue that once again sent me into a spiral. I had initially planned on staying in LA to work in public health until I decided to apply to medical school but after talking to my family I ended up deciding that moving back home near my family would be the better option so I left a city I loved and returned to my parents house. While home I decided that I was tired of not getting help for my mental health issues so I made the decision of finally get into therapy. I made the decision because I knew I could never be a doctor unless I got help. I also made the decision because I was tired of being held back in life because of it, because I was tired of having every good moment tainted my illness, because I knew I couldn’t keep living the way I was living. 

The beginning of 2016 was so hard because therapy, though helpful, opened up so many old wounds. I was often drained after my session (I would walk around whole foods for an hour buying random stuff after each session just to get some of the weight off my shoulders before returning home) but the experience was so freeing that I kept going and I could see the improvement. I learned so much about myself and why certain things have repeated itself at every stage of my life. I learned so many valuable skills and unlearned so many harmful thought processes and behaviors.For the first time since I was a child I finally felt like a free person, not like a walking pit of achievements and expectations, not like a sick person, not like a person just going thru the motions. This helped me finally decide that I was ready to purse medicine again.

My initial plan was to apply to medical school while I was in my graduate program so that I could stark right after graduation but I was so paralyzed with depression and anxiety I would stare at my MCAT book and just cry for hours because I didn’t feel good enough, I didn’t feel smart enough, I didn’t feel worthy enough, and I didn’t feel strong enough to even take that exam let alone actually be a real doctor. So I put it off. I remember being in my therapist office crying because I wanted to be a doctor so badly but It felt out of reach with my grades and history. The day I finally found the courage to schedule my MCAT exam I actually cried as I pressed the process button. I remember sitting in my therapist’s office crying as she smiled and encouraged my for having the bravery to face something that brings me so much anxiety and for having the courage to keep going forward despite the uncertainty. 

If this was a Disney movie I would have scored super high on my MCAT and then been accepted into my first choice school but life isn’t a Disney movie. 

I was scored barely high enough to be competitive but not high enough to offset my academic history so I was rejected in my first round of medical school applications. Prior to therapy I would have completely crumbled and given up, but because I was so much better at that point, so much stronger and braver I cried my initial tears and sat down to restudy for the MCAT again two days later. I was determined to do better, to cope better, and manage my life better. I started yoga, kept going to therapy, and spent time with myself and my friends and family and really finally healed and grew as a person

During this time I prepared my second round of applications for medical school, I applied to over 16 schools with the full knowledge that my application wasn’t as competitive as it needed to be but knowing I had what it took to be a good doctor and somehow it would work out for me. I retook the MCAT and got literally the exact same score as before lol I took that as a sign that I didn’t need to put my faith in an arbitrary measure of intelligence that actually had no bearing on whether or not I would actually make a good doctor or do well on the boards (research backs this up) and instead that needed to put my faith in myself and In God. 

During my previous round of applications I heard about IMG medical schools and I started an application for one school but never finished it because I remembered the stereotypes about IMG students and how they weren’t respected in the states or didn’t make it. During my second round of applications I ended up talking to an associate that was at a small Caribbean school. She told me about her experience and really made me open minded about pursing this alternative path. After doing lots of research I learned that the school I almost applied to at first is one of the most respected IMG schools out there and has given thousands of students the chance to be physicians. 

I decided to apply just before my US medical school rejection letters started coming it. There were a few times that I started to feel like I would never get in or if I did I would be making a huge mistake by going. shortly after sending my application I started a job in a hospital emergency department and while there I learned that 2 of our main ED doctors were actually IMG graduates. I also learned that the hospital had two residents from the school I applied to. This was so encouraging to me because it showed my that I wasn’t wrong. IMG grads can make it, and they aren’t any different from any other grad. They have MD behind their names and perform their jobs just as well as anyone else. The IMG docs were getting the same respect and salary as the Stanford grad on staff. None of that truly mattered, what mattered was can you do your job and do it well. 

What a lot of people don’t tell you about IMG schools is that yes a lot of people attend because they have a rocky academic history, but many attend because they were excellent students but US schools just didn’t have the space for them (google how much of a physical shortage US hospitals have because US schools can’t meet the demand with their low acceptance rates). Many attend because they decided to be doctors later in life and had huge gaps between degrees that US schools found unattractive. Many of them are good enough to be excellent doctors, they just needed the opportunity to do so, I was one of those students. 

After getting rejected by all 16 schools I applied to I ended getting into my current medical program BUT it once again it wasn’t a complete acceptance. I was granted conditional acceptance into the school of medicine, the condition being I had to pass a strenuous hard sciences program with a 3.5 GPA (well above the GPA requirement actual first year medical students need to pass into the next term) AND I had to pass a comprehensive exam at the end of the program with at least a 75. This brought on so much anxiety because if I failed to meet this high standard I would not be allowed to continue and my medical journey would truly be over. Most of the students who get placed in this program don’t pass because it’s that hard. I had 6 different classes, the most credit hours I have ever taken at one time in my life, each with their own exams and class requirements. This was truly the test that would show how much I had grown because this was the most pressure I had ever faced. I was walking into a program thousands of miles away from my family and friends on a secluded island and being placed into a situation that could trigger every single one of my issues. Instead of quitting before I even started I decided I was going to do it, I was going to mass no matter what, I wasn’t gonna let anything stand in my way. I felt like this was what all my suffering had prepared me for, this was what all the delays was for. It was to get to a place where I felt strong enough to give this my all and perform as well as I knew I could. 

My time in the first program was hard. I missed my family, I never felt like I could take breaks, I cried so many times because there was so much doubt and pressure at times. I cried before my first round of exams in the program thinking I would do terribly and I ended up getting As on every exam except one. This helped my confidence tremendously and I finally started to believe deep down inside that I could do this. By the time my program had ended I had lost friends because grades made them withdraw or because of petty reasons and I had a relapse with anxiety that sent me to the department of psychological services once a week for 2 months. But through it all I made it though a program where 150 people started, only 90 made it to finals, and only 50 of those 90 passed (many on appeals) with All As and 1 B and an A on the comprehensive exam. 

I did that, I worked my ass off in a foreign place and I performed at a level that I didn’t think I was even capable of for a long time. I passed with flying colors, I passed with no doubt that I was capable, that I was strong enough to endure this process, that I could achieve every dream that felt our of reach for so long. 

This is the face of a person who worked so hard for so long, who battled so much and finally got to wear the coat that she felt so unworthy of for a long time. This is the face of someone who earned her place at the table that no one can ever take from her. 

and this is the face of the girl who based on undergraduate grades and probably every statistic out there shouldn’t have gotten into medical school but who just finished her first official term as a medical student with an A average and  in the top 10% of her class. This is the face of a person who is as happy as she’s ever been and as whole as she’s ever been. 

[dubsdeedubs]

A Thousand Natural Shocks [Epilogue]

[AO3]

[A/N: lmao sorry i know drag me]

One said, Tell us…what is it like?

  “What is what like?”

  One said, Being insane. Being human.

September 20, 2012

from the Journal of Stanford F. Pines

It has been some time since my last entry. I suppose that is to be expected, given all that has occurred in the past several weeks.

I am writing from Northern California, with the sound of my brother's loud snores rumbling faintly through the wall that separates our rooms. We are well on our way to Piedmont, but with our age and the single valid driver's license between the two of us (one that matches neither of our features exactly) it seemed prudent to rest before continuing onto the last leg of our journey.

...Preferably to do so without ear plugs, hence my rare moment of privacy.

Lately, I have had no real opportunity to seek out new creatures to fill my notebooks with. Nor, if I must tell the truth, has there been much desire.

Instead, I have taken the time simply to think. Making up in some way for the many years for which contemplation was a privilege I did not hold.

I have been considering the anomalies in the world that Weirdmageddon might have woken from their long sleep. I have been pondering on the nature of family, and whether I will find it in the familiar strangers I shall meet for the first time tomorrow.

Mostly, however, I find myself thinking over what I now remember seeing in that strange space between consciousness and the lack thereof.

The green glint of eyes. The unspoken promise of safety. There is no doubt in my mind that they knew me. And, even in my indisposed state, I had known them.

'Stanley,' I said then. And they had answered.

That should surprise me far more than it does.

I tell myself that I must think about this logically. Instead, I feel myself considering the impossible.

I realize better than most just how finicky the concept of time can be in the context of the multiverse. Jheselbraum had once spent hours trying to explain how impossible it was to define a beginning or an end when speaking of creatures that transcended linear realities, that for them once something had occurred, there is a version of them for which it had always occurred.

However the entity has been changed by their deal with Stanley, the effects have extended as much into the past as they have into the future. They have become entirely independent from the single, fragile timeline of our individual dimension.

That is a powerful position to hold. But it is also a deeply lonely way to exist.

Stanley had once told me to trust in his ability to figure things out, to make things work. I do. But I am also deeply aware of how important family is to my brother, how important it is to him that he can protect those he considers his - the kids, Soos, Shermy. Me.

The entity has no family.

Yet I am hopeful, perhaps illogically so. As I think back to my time wandering the multiverse, I cannot help but remember the times I should not have survived. And there were many, more so than I can recall coherently. A blaster jammed at the nick of time, back-up guards that were called but never came... occurrences that had always seemed too contrived to be pure coincidence, especially in conjunction with one another. What if they were?

What if they had been helping, in whatever way they could?

...I would be the first to admit that these are fanciful thoughts, but I refuse to consider them impossible. After all, true family is not inherited - it is found. If nothing else, the entity has time.

And the multiverse is a very large place indeed.

  It’s in the darkness where your eyes can’t see. The universe becomes two halves, and you live in the half behind the eyes.

  An eldritch abomination walks into a multiversal bar, orders a Manhattan, and gets it.

"Huh," they said, or the nearest approximation of it. They prodded at the borough uneasily with a carefully corporeal tentacle.

The screams of approximately 1.7 million residents increased briefly in volume.

"...Y'know, I really don't know what I expected."

A bit more whiskey, perhaps?

A large amphibious creature perched casually on the bright red bar stool across from them, pink frills draping over the vaguely sticky countertop. It nursed a glass of murky liquid between two delicate paws, beady eyes unblinking as it looked directly at them.

"...I know ya, don't I?" They said after a long moment.

Yes. A long, transparent blink. No.

"Oookay." They fidgeted, as much as a mostly incorporeal mass of cosmic star-stuff could fidget. "So. You uh... come here often?"

I come when I am needed.

"...Right."

The frills twitched. And what brings you here?

"Um."

The Axolotl waited patiently.

"Got bored, I guess."

Boredom. The expression on its face never changed, but somehow the stretch of its smile became more noticeable. How entirely unlike us.

They went still at that, stiff with realization.

"You."

There was a silence that stretches for millennia and milliseconds, and for no time at all.

"...Why did you do this to me?"

I was under the impression you did this to yourself, said the Axolotl.

They made a face. "But ya came up with the rules for all of this, yeah? Things didn't have to turn out this way."

They never do.

The Axolotl hummed.

Are you angry?

"Hell, why wouldn't I be? I would sure love to still be out there eating planets and universes instead of..."

They trailed off, glanced around them as if to reiterate their current situation.

"Moping over shitty cocktails with a giant lizard that's drinkin' swamp water out of a wine glass."

The Axolotl blinked slowly, its smile unchanging.

No, it disagreed politely, you would not.

Their silence was answer enough.

"...What the hell am I, now?"

You will never be human, the Axolotl said. But you hold symptoms of humanity.

"Symptoms?" They repeated disbelievingly. "You make humanity sound like... like getting head lice, or something."

Is it not? It chirped.

"Er."

Humanity is imagination, is belief, is hope. It is not given or bestowed, it is caught. The Axolotl blinked. What is it then, if not a very contagious disease?

"...I would be lyin' if I said that metaphor doesn't make me incredibly uncomfortable," they said slowly. "But I get what you're saying. Kinda."

Your drink remains untouched.

They blinked, six eyes shuttering and opening at once, as if just then remembering the screaming mass of human civilization sitting right in front of them.

"Look, I know I'm from Jersey and all," the entity said defensively, "and sure, I hate shoobies as much as anyone out there. But I'm not actually gonna eat all of New York."

You are not from New Jersey, the Axolotl reminded gently. You exist without precedent. You are not 'from' anywhere.

There was a moment of silence.

"...I need a drink," they said blankly.

You have one.

"A drink without a million screaming people in it, alright?"

Would you like to have a sip of mine? The Axolotl offered generously.

The entity stared. "Buddy," they said slowly, "the day I willingly drink swamp water is gonna have to be a hell of a worse day than today."

No, it will not. For you, there are no days.

It blinked, long and slow. No weeks, no months, no lifetimes.

You have 'now', and you will have it forever.

They twitched at that, component parts squirming.

"...Great. So, uh, is this all there is?"

This?

"You know." Something like a grimace flashed momentarily across their form. "Floating around in the multiverse, messing around with planets and galaxies, playing all these giant - cosmic games that don't mean anything to anyone."

For us, yes.

The entity hesitated. "Then what - what do I do now?"

What would you want to do?

"Well, I wanna catch the latest episode of Ducktective, for one," they said, a tad bit wistfully. "Munch my way through a coupla bags of toffee peanuts. Work on a new exhibit for the Shack. ...Hell, maybe I'll even drag Ford up from his lab one of these days. Drive down to visit the kids. Just to see how they're doing."

The Axolotl said nothing.

"...You don't hafta to tell me. I get it, alright?" The entity said quietly. "I'm not stupid, I know I can't do any of that stuff. Not without bringing the whole damn universe down on our heads."

They hesitated. "Again."

You are not incorrect.

"Besides, Ford and the kids..."

There was a long, long pause.

"They've got a Stan already. I'm just - leftovers."

The Axolotl said nothing.

And then, slow and measured, it says, Not all of them.

The entity went still. Six eyes blinked as one.

There are many universes like the one you are familiar with. Certainly, they have their differences.

But where there is a portal, there is someone who went though it.

"Ford?" They said hopefully.

Someone.

"And then, they're here," they said, an odd note in their voice. "Here. Where I am."

Yes. At some point in time, at every point in time. Working through their own personal timelines.

The entity was quiet. "Are any of them, y'know -"

There is no version of Stanford Filbrick Pines wandering the the multiverse that is fully the brother you remember. There was only one, and he has returned home long ago.

"Right," they said, an odd tone in their voice. "Right, of course. We knew that."

The Axolotl inclined its head. Does that matter?

"No," the entity said immediately and stilled, surprised at themselves.

Then, with a second wind of confidence, "No, it doesn't. Because - then that just means every version of Ford out there in the multiverse is just as much my brother, yeah?"

The Axolotl paused. Then it smiled, and that was that.

And the multiverse is a very large place indeed,

It finished its drink in the stillness that followed.

"Hey. Hang on."

There's another long silence.

"...You know what I'm thinking about," says the entity softly. "What we're gonna try to do. You're not gonna tell me it's a crazy idea? That I'm gonna rip open the fabric of the universe, or something?"

The Axolotl blinked ponderously.

They hesitated. "Then, you got - advice for this, or something? Anything?"

Advice?

The Axolotl smiled, pale pink fronds waving gently around its face.

Yes. Perhaps. Just the one.

"Alright, good, because I'm -"

Choose life.

The entity reared up.

"What the hell is that supposed to -"

But the Axolotl was already gone, as if it had never been there at all.

A single glass of untouched swamp water sat on the varnished countertop.

They sighed.

"...Whelp, that's one extradimensional entity I'm never playing cards against."

  I have seen galaxies die. I have watched atoms dance.

  But until I had the dark behind the eyes, I didn't know the death from the dance. 

 Ford was fairly certain that when one looked into the abyss, it was not supposed to wave back.

He blinked blearily, trying to make sense of his swimming vision. The dull ringing in his ears did not help with that endeavor, and neither did his budding concussion. Still, he could not rid himself of the peculiar certainty that there had been something out there in the darkness of space, something friendly enough to say hello.

How many times did he hit his head? How many times did his alien captors hit his head? ...Were those different ways of phrasing the same question? Between the head injury and general exhaustion, he couldn't even begin to make sense of it.

Distantly, he could hear the click-clack sound of arthropod feet on the steel flooring and angry chittering he could only assume - with the context of a lifetime consuming ridiculous sci-fi media - translated to, "Re-capture the prisoner!"

He pulled himself away wearily from the window and the void beyond. He had made a good attempt, but there was nowhere else to run.

Ford swayed, and fell.

           - and then it started, as it always did, with a dream.

He had all but forgotten the possibility. Ford had not dreamed since he had fallen through the gap between worlds, that uncertain number of decades ago. Maybe Bill had taken the capability to do so from him as retribution, perhaps he had been cut off from the Dreamscape as sharply as he had been from his own home dimension.

There was no way to know for sure. All that was certain was that he did not dream, until he did.

Stanford Pines dreamed he was in a house, one that once upon a time was his. It was as familiar to him as it was strange. There was a sense of the worn and the lived-in here, one had never developed in his own years of living between these walls. He saw it in the sloppy pile of dog-eared magazines on the counter, in the photo frames scattered all around, filled with faces he can't quite make out.

There was something here with him, sitting legs crossed on the armchair.

Something wearing Stanley's face, young and unlined and exactly as Ford remembered.

It even had the mullet.

"It's been a long time, Sixer," it said conversationally, green eyes glinting, with a familiar conspiratorial grin that sent his heart into his throat.

Impossibly enough, he hoped.

"We heard you needed a hand?"

[purplesurveys]

945

A Survey For College/Uni Grads Survey by emptyspaces

What year did you graduate? 2020. It’s only been a little over a month, too.

What degree do you have? Journalism, but I might as well have had a minor in history because of the amount of history electives I took as well haha.

What classes did you take your first year? The first semester of my first year was purely for general courses, so I took basic courses on English, biology, math, philosophy, and Philippine history. By the second semester I took more basic courses on public speaking, physics, and social science, but by then I was already allowed to take two journalism majors.

Second year? My general courses included a basic course on art history, chemistry, English, Filipino, Asian history; my majors were on communication and media, news reporting, media law, media theory, journalism ethics, and an introductory course on broadcast communication.

Third year? The only general courses I had by this point were an intro to political science and a class on Philippine government and politics. I mostly took majors this year though, which wiped me the crap out: my majors were on media and society, feature writing, public relations, international relations, fact-checking, broadcast management, Southeast Asian history, and introductory courses on macroeconomics, film, psychology, and communication research.

Fourth year? I took up journalism design and layout, contemporary Philippine history, Philippine social history, pornography in media just because lol, an introductory course on anthropology, and I also got started on my thesis as well. My second and final semester got cancelled entirely because of the pandemic, but I would have finished units on business reporting, online journalism, community press, and the history of women in the Philippines.

Did it take you longer than four years to graduate? No. That would have disappointed my parents big time and considering how much effort they’ve put to send me to good schools, the least I could do was to graduate on time. Even if I wanted to shift out of my course, it would’ve led to a delay and I didn’t want that for them and I personally didn’t want that for myself either.

Did you start at 18, or did you have a gap year(s) after high school? Again, I didn’t want to take gap years for my parents’ sake. I immediately went to college right after graduating high school, like what the majority of students here do.

Was it a small or large college/university? Very large. The competition is even bigger – 100,000++ high school seniors take the entrance exam every year but they only take in around 10,000 passers. Still, 10,000 new students every school year is so many, and it’s always a bitch to get class slots because of our population.

Public or private? Public. 

Is there anything the school is well-known for? All sorts of things. It’s one of the top schools in the country, so we hog the spotlight in the national news pretty much everyday. I think the biggest things we’re known for though is our reputation for research and our activism history. It also makes us a popular target of pro-government trolls.

What were some of your favorite classes? I loved taking up art studies and all of my political science and history electives, and as for my journalism electives I really only enjoyed public relations and that one class where we ran an online magazine for a whole semester.

What were some classes you hated? Fucking economics. And fact-checking. And the fact that I took both in the same period...got my lowest average for that semester because of those classes, too. I feel like I would have done better if my economics class didn’t have a population of 200 and if I had a more experienced professor fact-checking but shit happens, I guess. I also felt like my porn class was a waste because the readings were so pretentious. And of course, philosophy.

Did you have any super-long classes? Like 3 hours or longer? All majors in my college are 3 hours long. So classes like PR, journalism ethics, feature writing, business reporting, media law, communication theory, etc. all definitely took a big chunk of my weekdays.

Did you ever change your major? No. I had multiple conversations with myself to decide if I should, but aside from not wanting to get delayed I also accepted the fact that as much as I had grown to not like journalism as a practice, the technical skills taught in it were still going to be super useful in the industry I want to get into, which is communications and PR.

Did you do any internships? If so, where? I did. I interned at a PR agency last year but it was part of my requirements to complete my course, so it felt forced to an extent. I’m currently interning at another PR agency, but this time I’m out of school and it’s a personal choice of mine.

Did you ever take any online classes? If so, which ones? I only had one or two online class sessions at the beginning of the lockdown, but my school ultimately cancelled the semester altogether in consideration of disadvantaged students who may not have laptops of their own or wi-fi at home. In the end they just gave a grade of ‘P’ to everyone, which meant Pass.

Were textbooks expensive? I didn’t need to buy entire textbooks because my professors usually just took excerpts or chapters from certain relevant books and let us photocopy the pages, which costs a lot cheaper than having to buy books.

What other supplies besides books did you have to buy for your classes? Other than course readings I didn’t need to spend much. Journalism isn’t a material-heavy course like how film or broadcast communication is.

Were you in any clubs or student organizations? Yes. I was in a journalism org, our graduation committee, and was part of a student publication at one point. I also tried to join AIESEC but my schedule was so hectic at the time that I had to drop it.

Did you ever volunteer anywhere? I was a lecturer and facilitator for the journalism workshops that my org regularly held (and will probably continue to volunteer even as a grad, since I know they appreciate alumni lecturers lol), and one time I also volunteered to be an usher for Batch 2019′s graduation.

Were you on any sports teams? Nope. I liked playing table tennis, but I was never trained properly enough to make it to varsity. 

Where was your favorite place to eat on campus? It depended on how much of a hurry I was in and how much I was willing to spend. The cheapest option was the network of kiosks scattered around campus which sold the same instant noodles and street food. If I wanted to reward myself but was on a tight budget, I went to Area 2 which is a residential street in campus that was also dotted with small food booths ran by the homeowners; if I had some money to spend and the time to stay in a sit-in restaurant I used to go to Chocolate Kiss.

Did you work while you were in college? I did not. I was lucky to be in a privileged position where my parents were able to provide for me and where I never had to worry about finances.

If so, where? How many hours per week?

How many times did you move throughout college? I didn’t. We lived in the same house the whole time I was in college.

Did you live on campus, in an apartment, or somewhere else? I lived at home and I just drove to and from school everyday, since the campus was near-ish enough for me not to avail of a dorm or condo.

Did you live with roommates? Alone? With a significant other? I lived with my family, but tbh it was mostly my mom and brother at home since my sister stays at a dorm and my dad works abroad.

If off-campus, how much was your rent? Never had to pay any.

How often did you go back to visit your parents? I went home to my mom every night lol, unless I had a sleepover at someone else’s place.

Did your parents help you out with living costs? Sure did. Nothing changed with my living arrangements and I still lived under their roof.

Did your parents (or someone else) pay for your tuition? They paid for the first two semesters; then by my sophomore year the government passed an act implementing free tuition for all state universities so since then they never had to pay a cent for my education.

Was it an expensive school? Not at all, which is why the competition to get in is so fierce. To illustrate, four years in my school is just equivalent to one semester in my sister’s college. Last time I checked one unit is ₱1500 or roughly $30.

If you paid for it, do you still have student loans you're paying off? I don’t have student loans. Idk if that’s a thing here, actually. I don’t think it is.

How many people did you date throughout college? One.

What was your longest relationship while in college? The whole four years. I was in the same relationship when I started and ended.

Were you in a sorority/fraternity? Fuck no.

Were you into partying? Just occasionally. I wasn’t a wild partier but I did go to a few college parties every now and then, and I certainly went to nearby bars nearly every Friday.

Where did you and your friends usually hang out? Along Katip, since there were enough places there to hang out in. Occasionally we’d go to Maginhawa, but I prefer it a lot less because the parking there sucks balls.

What did you and your friends do for fun? Drink, eat, play games.

Do you still keep in touch with any college friends? Very much. I support those who remain in the org, and I occasionally catch up with those who had already graduated.

Did any of them graduate with the same degree as you? Most of them did. It’s how I met them.

What did you do after you graduated? I rested for a bit but an existential crisis quickly came over and now I’m in a bit of a mental slump, but at least I’ve scored this internship to keep me occupied.

How was the pay at your first job out of college? The company I’m currently interning for objectively pays well, but they acquired me as an intern because they aren’t offering full-time positions for now. That said, I get an allowance rather than a salary so it isn’t much at all, but I’m still happy to be in the company because it’s supposed to be one of the top agencies in the country.

What classes prepared you the most for your career? PR, feature writing, public speaking, news reporting, online journalism...and tbh org work. 

- Five favorite memories from your college days -

1: UP vs DLSU basketball game from September last year HAAAAAA

2: Attending my organization’s orientation and encountering them for the first time, not knowing I was going to bloom so much there and gain my closest friends

3: High Def 2018 and 2019

4: Drinking at VSpot with Angela, Hans, Gabie, and whoever else from their Ateneo gang that also got invited

5: TK with orgmates

[megamanmodelaaa-fanstories]

The Squidbeak Splatoon - Third Time’s the Charm Chapter 1: The Great Squidnapping

In the far flung future, centuries from our time…

The world is nothing but vast & endless oceans, as far as the eye can see. Aside from the deep-sea world, there was no life to be seen. However, if you look just a little bit further into the horizon… land!

At first glance, this bit of land looks unremarkable as monochrome colours dominate everything in sight. But it’s when you take a deeper look into this land that you see something different, something not at all what it appears to be on the outside.

Welcome to Inkopolis… to the City of Colour!

The streets, the markets, the residence, the city center, everywhere you look, there is a new colour to gaze upon. Bright or Dark, Plain or Mixed, Singular or Combined, every colour in the collective Palette is there to enjoy! This gives the residence of Inkopolis a sense of energy & enthusiasm all day long. At night, these same colours along with the city’s beautiful lighting give way to a dazzling view that invoke feelings of imagination & serenity.

The people of Inkopolis are full of various races that have evolved beyond their Cephalopod roots to live freely on land. Jellyfish, Horseshoe Crabs, Urchins, Prawns & most dominantly, the Inklings. Inklings are a unique Species of Inkopolis because they’re half human & half Squid who can change between the two forms at will.

Also compared to normal Squids, their Ink Production is faster & much more potent. They need to be for them to participate in Inkopolis’ most famous sport: Turf War.

2 Teams of 4 Inklings battle each other in a game of Territorial Control, where players must paint as much area as possible using special weapons that utilize their natural ink as ammunition. The more turf inked, the more points that team gets, with the winner being the team with the most turf controlled when time runs out.

Certainly, the City of Inkopolis is a land that embodies enthusiasm, energy, competition & interaction. A perfect blend for a peaceful & prosperous community! But that same peace & prosperity would soon come under threat…

One day, sometime before a special Turf War Event called a “Splatfest” was scheduled to begin, people on the streets were surprised by a breaking citywide broadcast. Callie & Marie, Inkopolis’ Top Pop Idol Duo, take the stage…

Callie: “We interrupt this program to bring you important news!”

Marie: “The Great Zapfish, source of all power for Inkopolis… has mysteriously vanished.”

Callie: “City Officials have released this picture showing a crashed UFO, which was taken around the estimated time of our Zapfish’s disappearance!”

Marie: “We encourage everyone to share any information about this UFO & others that may lead to the missing Zapfish.”

Callie: “Until the Great Zapfish is recovered, we advise Turf War Veterans to expect restrictions & limitations on battle scheduling, public or private… That includes the upcoming Splatfest, which is -as of now- on hold indefinitely.”

Marie: “Our sincere apologies for any inconveniences…”

Callie: “That’s all for now. Thank you everyone & until next time…”

Callie & Marie: “Stay Fresh.”

But the public was feeling anything BUT “Fresh”. Everyone was sent into a silent panic. Who could’ve done that? How did we not notice? What’s going to happen to us?!

The Great Zapfish is an entity as big as an observatory tower that is the main source of energy for the entire city. Even in its absence, Inkopolis can still run on reserve power, but that will only last for about 2-3 months at best. People throughout the city, for the next few weeks, would live in fear & hopelessness of having to leave in the near future…

Over a Month Later…

Inkopolis still runs, but it’s clear that the dwindling power has robbed it of its enthusiasm. There aren’t as many lights bathing the city as it used to, most have resorted to staying at home out of fear & a select few fled the city to find a new place to live. What was once a city of energy, is now slowly losing all signs of life. But somewhere within the center of Inkopolis, a small group of teenagers are still kicking hard in Turf War.

Day 1, Arowana Mall, 12:50-

8 Inklings are swapping ink against each other, one side Blue & the other Orange. 2 Blue Inklings holding an N-Zap & a Splat Roller push forward, jumping off the central hill in an attempt to claim more turf as the battle enters its final minute. Suddenly, one of them gets splatted out of nowhere, while the other gets echolocated as she attempts to escape. She gets splatted by an Aerospray on her way forward.

Aerospray Inkling: “Nice going, Miwa!”

Miwa: “You can thank me later, let’s push!”

Miwa is a 14 year old Inkling who’s considered of the most skilled on the turf; one of very few who reached the coveted S+ Ranking. She’s proficient with most weapons, prefers Chargers & despises Blasters.

The battle ends with a score of 57-39 for Team Orange. The winning team jumps for joy & exchanges high fives in celebration as a member of the losing team steps forward.

N-Zap Inkling: “Y-You all got lucky because you had a Charger on your side!”

Miwa: “(Ho boy, here we go again…)”

Aerospray Inkling: “Is that so? Wanna trade & see how it ends?”

Splat Roller Inkling: “Yes! Let’s rematch!”

But just as they were about to start, an official of the Turf War Management approaches them, saying they’ve reached the maximum allowed number of matches & they’re to leave immediately.

Splat Roller Inkling: “But… But that’s not fair; we’ve only had 2 matches. Isn’t the maximum limit supposed to be 5?”

Official: “New rules have been placed: 2 per group only, regardless of arrangements.”

& just like that, everyone packs their things in misery & returns to the City Center…

Inkopolis Plaza, 13:15-

Miwa sits on a bench drinking here favourite juice as she relaxes after being forced to stop battling on such short notice. As she throws her empty bottle in the bin, 2 friends arrive to join her.

Green Inkling: “Yo! Reached your threshold already?”

Miwa: “Let me guess: Reduced Turf War Capacity?”

Purple Inkling: “Yeeeah, what a pain…”

Miwa: “Relax guys, I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Can’t let those smiles turn upside down, right?”

Both of her friends look at her speechlessly, their expressions arched in worry…

Ever since the Great Zapfish’s disappearance, Miwa & several others have been trying to get some energy back into everyone by engaging in Turf Wars as much as possible, creating enthusiasm through tense competition & distracting the public from the crisis. But as the days went by with no sign of the Great Zapfish returning, their efforts soon fell to deaf ears & now, they’re slowly losing their battling privileges.

Purple Inkling: “Listen, maybe… we should go plan our move out & get it over with. I’m sure there’s plenty of land outsi—“

Miwa: “& give up on everything we have here?! Like it’s all worth NOTHING to us?!”

Green Inkling: “Girl, there’s not much else we CAN do. We gotta move on…”

Miwa: “I can’t… I WON’T allow…..”

A cold silence descends upon the 3 companions, as if to look for a way to challenge each other’s arguments, to challenge the very desperate situation they find themselves in. Yet sadly, quietness…

Then…

Green Inkling: “Gals look, it’s HIM again! Haha!”

Miwa’s green friend points towards the Vending Machines Corner, an old man sits under a manhole cover looking around as if seeking something.

Miwa: “*Again*??”

Purple Inkling: “Oh you’ve never seen him? He always shows up here between 13-14 o’clock for some reason. What is this bum doing? Hehehe!”

Miwa: “Heh beats me, I don’t live in the sewers myself!”

The 3 continue laughing as Miwa decides to take a picture of this peculiar man. Moments after she’d put her phone down, the old man starts looking directly at her, exchanging such a sharp gaze. Miwa stares in confusion.

Miwa: “(Why’s he looking at me like that? Did he catch me taking his picture? What’s wi—)”

Miwa’s friends tap her shoulder to say goodbye in a hurry. As soon as she turns to face the old man however, he was no longer there. She waits a little longer hoping to see him again, but he never does & Miwa decides to return to her apartment for the day.

Flounder Heights, 18:45-

Miwa sits on her desk working on whatever homework she has to finish, however little there was to complete due to the crisis. She couldn’t help but think about the old man she saw in the Plaza. With her curiosity soaring high & an idea for a gag in mind, Miwa puts her pen down & starts surfing the web for something similar to his outfit.

Suddenly, she comes across a startling discovery. While the old man’s outfit was nothing to write home about, the hat was EXTREMELY valuable: The Legendary Cap. A very special & rare headgear that only the best of Inklings were awarded with it for their services & bravery in the Great Turf War, 100 years ago.

A cap like this is IMPOSSIBLE to get, even with the help of the back alley dealers like Spyke!

Miwa: “(What was he doing with a hat like that! He couldn’t have stolen it… Is it a fake perhaps? &…) Why was he looking at me?”

One question lead to another, each without an answer. So, Miwa decides there was only one way to solve this mystery…

Day 2, Inkopolis Plaza, 13:40-

For the first time in over a month, Miwa didn’t take part in any Turf Wars. Rather, she spent her time waiting around in the plaza for the Cap wearing man. They look at each other from a distance for minutes on end, with Miwa waiting for the right opportunity to face him.

With each passing minute, she grows more tense. The old man was still looking at her & her alone.

Miwa: “(He’s not going to look anywhere else, isn’t he?... I need to find a way to distra—!!)”

& just like that, the old man vanished while she was looking around.

Miwa: “But it’s still 13:50 o’clock!”

She makes a mad dash for the manhole to investigate. No sign of him. There was only one way he could’ve escaped her sight…

Miwa: “Yuck… (Am I really doing this?...)”

Hesitation holds her in place, but not for long as her curiosity becomes too strong to bear.

She jumps into the manhole cover, unaware of what fate has in store for her…..

Unknown Area, 14:00-

After a unexpectedly long journey in the dark depths, Miwa finally emerges to find that she’s now FAR outside the city limits, tall cliffs & waterfalls encircle a bowl shaped area full of small islands, each with its own theming. The most distinct landmark is a giant sculpture of an Octopus at the highest peak.

Miwa continues to admire the scenery, until she finds the old man beside a small shack.

Miwa: “Hello, sir?... W-What am I saying?! Listen, I need to know whe—“

Old Man: “That look in your eyes…”

Miwa: “Wha??”

Old Man: “I’ve been waiting for someone like you! You’re just who we need to defeat the Octarians!”

Miwa: “Octarians? You mean the ones Inklings fought in the Great Turf War? Wait, are you some sort of military general?”

Old Man: “Absolutely! I’m Captain Cuttlefish, Leader of the Legendary Squidbeak Splatoon! A pleasure to make your acquaintance, welcome to Octo Valley.”

After exchanging introductions, the Captain moves on to explain what’s going on. It seems that he’s been investigating the Great Zapfish’s disappearance alone & has concluded that it was the Octarians’ who stole it, as revenge for their defeat in the Great Turf War 100 years ago.

Despite his best attempts, he wasn’t able to get anyone to believe his findings & is currently understaffed to do the job. This led him to try & find a capable Inkling from the streets of Inkopolis to help return the lost Zapfish, which is where Miwa comes in.

Miwa: “So, you want ME to help you recover the Great Zapfish?”

Cpt. Cuttlefish: “I won’t lie: It won’t be easy. We’re alone against an army. The best I can do to help you is provide telecommunication support & hide Mini Spawn Points around the valley, they will only save you so many times.

So, what will you do young one? Will you join me as my 3rd Agent on this covert mission?”

Most would take a step back to consider, but Miwa didn’t as she saw an opportunity. If she can do this, everything will be back to normal. She’ll take back her home, Turf Wars & bring back the Inkopolis she loves! Miwa turns to the Captain to give her answer, when…

Cpt. Cuttlefish: “I’ll take your silence as ‘Yes, of course I’ll help!’”

Miwa: “Wait What?!”

Cpt. Cuttlefish: “I’ll make the necessary preparations for you, so meet me again tomorrow at 12 o’clock!”

Miwa: “Wait a second!”

It was settled: Miwa will be the Squidbeak Splatoon’s Agent 3, on a quest to explore Octo Valley, stop the Octarian menace & retrieve the stolen Great Zapfish!

Will she succeed? What obstacles await her? Tune in next time for Chapter 2: Krak on, Agent!

Thank you for reading & have a good day! 👋🏻😄

[thetreehousesystem]

The Challenges of Ethnic Ambiguity

While this isn’t a post about DID, it is about another important part of my identity; my ethnicity.

My father was born and raised in Syria with Syrian (and possibly some Turkish) descent. My mother was born in Australia to Egyptian parents, with a tiny bit of Turkish in her mix. I was born in Australia, moved to the U.A.E. when I was 7-8 yo , then returned to Australia when I was 13-14 yo. For those who don’t know, all three of these countries I’m descended from, but especially Egypt, are very ethnically diverse, which in turn means my physical appearance is very ethnically “different” and “confusing”. So when people see me, they feel the need to either force me into some guessing game about my ethnicity, make assumptions and treat me accordingly, or, in rare cases, actually ask me and get a mildly accurate answer. While in an ideal world, I wish people would just treat me as another human being, I don’t get that liberty with the way I look and the experiences I’ve had.

Just the other day, I was in an Uber with an Irish friend and we were chatting with the driver who turned out to be Afghani. We were talking about how the driver and I were both lactose intolerant, whereas my Irish friend was not, when I made the comment “only white people are not lactose intolerant”. The driver’s response was “But you’re white!” Right about now, y’all are probably thinking I’m crazy for getting annoyed about passing and being mistook for a white person, but the problem with passing means all your experiences with racism and otherness due to your ethnicity are completely disregarded as if they never happened, which is really damn offensive and hurtful.

That was one of the more innocent times I’ve been mistook for being white. There have been several occasions on which I’ve been blatantly told to my face that there’s no way I’ve ever experienced racism, because my skin is light. When in fact, the entire reason my family and I moved to the U.A.E. was because we were terrified of the backlash against Arabs and Muslims post-9/11. That’s right, I had to leave the country I was born in and grew up in because we felt so threatened. So, I guess I can’t really call Australia home, right?

So what about the U.A.E.? Well I certainly wasn’t welcomed there with open arms. Speaking the Syrian dialect of Arabic meant I was ridiculed every time I would speak Arabic in front of my peers, and having an Australian accent speaking English in a country full of people with American accents meant I was also ridiculed when speaking English, until I adopted the American accent.  Not to mention the times I was cornered by classmates to be called things like “foreigner” and “egg-head”, and sometimes even physically hurt and purposely left out of games and activities my classmates would engage in during our lunch breaks. So no, the U.A.E. certainly isn’t home.

Syria? I remember trying to get a haircut when visiting Syria once. My sister, who has very straight hair compared to mine, was given premium service; a perfect haircut, a blow dry afterwards, a cheap rate, and it was not a rush job. When the hairdressers got to my nappy ass hair, they didn’t quite know what to do, so they gave me a rush job with a shitty haircut and my uncle had to argue with them and pay them extra so they would actually finish the job. And buying clothes for me there was a nightmare because I’ve got the African bottom-heavy body shape. Plus, Arabs are very racist towards each other so the fact I was obviously not 100% Syrian meant I was treated as less than everywhere I went. So I don’t fit in in Syria either. And if I ever end up in Turkey, it’ll be more or less the same.

And then as for Egypt, I can’t speak the dialect, in fact I find it quite difficult to even understand, and my skin colour is far too light for me to appear Egyptian and fit into their society. And Egypt is a pretty dangerous place for foreigners right now. So where do I fit in? Where do ethnically ‘different’ looking people fit in this world? I feel like a god damn Chameleon at this point, constantly changing how I present depending on the ethnicity of the people around me. I’ll speak Arabic, keep my distance from men, and feign what Arabs like to call ‘modesty’ if I’m surrounded by Arabs to prove my Arabness. I’ll shade white people when I’m with my indigenous or black friends to prove my non-whiteness (although I’m also non-stop dissing white people in my head too). And I step up my whiteness, vocabulary, Aussie slang, and enthusiasm for ‘intellectual conversation and debates’ around white folks so I come across as educated, intelligent, and sophisticated enough to live amongst them in their white country. In all honesty, I love having intellectual debates and enjoy giving my Arabic a spin on the rare occasion that I can, but I can only handle so much debating with white people about shit they don’t know and speaking a language I barely remember. I actually feel the least like a fish out of water when I’m spending time with my African Australian and/or my Indigenous Australian friends, but even then I don’t feel truly 100% accepted. I actually kind of feel like an impostor.

I know this is going to be read by a bunch of people who do fit neatly into a certain ethnicity or race and be told that I’m being too sensitive or that there are so many people who are worse off or something else completely dismissive, but therein lies the issue. I am very aware that people of other minority races experience things I will never have to, but that doesn’t make any of my experiences any less valid. Also, the examples I’ve used here are very PG compared to most of the racist encounters I’ve had. I’ve had a group of white boys drive past me and scream out the window “what the fuck is that?” at me. I’ve had neo-nazis try to get me fired from the first club I worked at because they had decided I was Jewish because I’ve got a big nose (which actually looks a lot more African than Jewish tbh). I had to be escorted out of the club by security early that night because those same boys began bordering on violent and their bullshit kept escalating (and no, I wasn’t recompensed for the rest of the shift). I’ve been consistently mocked about my body shape, called all sorts of fat slurs, even starved with the intention of making me lose weight, by the Syrian side of my family ever since I started going through puberty. All because I don’t fit into their idea of an attractive body because I have curves, a fat ass, and thick thighs. And by the way, that has lead to some serious body dysmorphia because even when I do lose weight, my body shape/ proportions stay the same and I’ve been programmed to see that as fat. I was strip searched at the airport when I was 13 coming back to Australia from Dubai, and I’ve never been to an airport since and not been screened for explosives (random my fat ass). But all that considered, the hardest part of all these experiences is that no matter where I am or where I go, I’m literally always having to fight for a place in this world and the reality is that I just don’t neatly fit anywhere. And that leaves a person feeling extremely disenfranchised, discouraged, left out, alone, unaccepted, misunderstood, misplaced, and perpetually lost, a big part of why I tend to seclude and isolate myself from even my closest friends. So I suppose the take away from this is if any of y’all have ethnically ambiguous friends, do not assume their ethnicity. Ask, then accept. And be mindful that because we’ve never had a strong sense of belonging, we’ll likely try to assimilate into whatever your culture is and that’s a very uncomfortable process. So try to be conscious of at least the basics of their culture, whatever parts they’ve chosen to hold onto, and be inclusive with that knowledge in mind. I also want to say, before someone kicks up a shitstorm, that I don’t HATE white people. I just find a very large number of them to be annoying, naive, willingly ignorant, obnoxious, privileged, and superficial. And if you get defensive over that statement, you are one of those white people I just described.

[missmarquin]

Prologue

The dancers were painfully boring and quite frankly, nothing that she hadn't seen before in her long and privileged life. She had seen contortionists from the mainland, elephants from far West... there was nothing remotely unique about these too-thin children, twirling around painfully on their toes.

“Merchant,” the Lady Linfey said, thrusting as much boredom that she possibly could into voice, “I tire of this game that you insist on playing. If you have nothing decent to show, then don't show at all.” Her mother had always taught her to keep her cards close to her chest and never reveal herself, but what was the point of being an Empress if she didn't use her title to her advantage?

The Merchant bowed nervously and fretted about, scratching at his balding head as he wrung his colorful hat between his fingers. “Many apologies, your Majesty,” he sputtered. “Truly, one hundred thousand apologies. I just thought that these dancers--”

“Once you have seen one, you have seen them all,” Empress Linfey replied dryly.

The Merchant froze, perhaps fearing for his life. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she regarded him carefully. He fussed about and sputtered again, his face turning red as he tried to salvage the situation. She rolled her eyes at this, pausing to glance at her son standing to her right. It was odd that he was willingly in here presence, but perhaps that was a good thing. It had been over five decades since they had had a civil conversation.

But, like his father, he wasn't one for courtly drama. He would sooner wander the lands and search for strength, than bother with these petty political affairs— or in this case, frivolous shows of wealth. His regal air and ethereal looks added to their overall intimidation, making them quite the pair.

“Oh son, what do we do?” The question was more rhetorical than anything, which caused Sesshoumaru's lips to quirk into an annoyed frown. “Do we let him carry on, or shall we kick him out?” Truth be told, she wondered why he even bothered to hawk his wares to the Imperial Family.

“Leave me out of your trifling matters, mother.”

“But son,” she pouted, “I fear that I am weary from the display.”

At this, the Merchant begged for mercy. Honestly, she had no intention on killing the man, perhaps just a slight maiming instead. Those tended to brighten her mood. She smirked mercilessly as she raised her hand, displaying her sharp and lethal claws--

“Wait!” the Merchant cried. She paused, watching the man carefully, her eyes narrowed in slight interest. She wasn't above allowing the man his last words. “Your Majesty,” he added for good measure. Her lips twisted into a malicious smile. Surely this man didn't think that propriety would easy her mood. “There...” he started, but then hesitated. The moment her lips drooped into an unamused frown, he broke into a stutter once more. “T-t-there is something else!” he squeaked.

“Explain.”

He swept his hand to the side, motioning for the dancers to leave the floor. His business partner gave him a curious glance from his spot against the wall, seemingly unsure as to what the Merchant was referring too. “Something beautiful and serene! Something with the grace and poise of a butterfly, and the voice of a Goddess. Truly, she is my greatest treasure, but I am willing to offer a sample of her skills.”

Linfey's eyes flashed at his words-- if anyone was a Goddess, it was she. Still... curiosity poked at her. She loved things that were unique.

The Merchant waved towards his partner, motioning towards the entrance to the grand hall. “Your Majesty,” his partner said, his soft voice composed. “I will require the help of a few of your guards.” Clearly he didn't fear her, something she might have to change.

The Empress lowered her claws, only to rest her chin upon her hand impatiently. She waved her other hand towards two of her soldiers, standing attention at the walls. They bowed quickly and followed the man out. She trained her gaze back on the Merchant once more, her eyebrows drawn up in curiosity and annoyance.

Soon enough, there was the sound of heavy footsteps across the marble. Her men carried a large birdcage to the dais and set it down on the floor before her. The thing was gilded in gold, but it showed age, tarnished in a few spots and in desperate need of polishing. There was a lump inside the bars, breathing gently as it rested.

If this was the Merchant's bid to save his life, he wasn't off to a good start. She was silent as he stepped over to it hastily, unlocking the intricate mechanism and letting the door swing open.

“Songbird,” he crooned into the cage, his voice slick with forced sweetness. The thing in the cage shifted slightly and the Empress leaned forward in interest.

The Merchant reached into the cage and pulled out a chain, the links cast iron, thick and heavy. The lump moved with sleepy effort, slowly unfolding itself. He shook the chains slightly, pulling at them. “Songbird,” he repeated, “Come.”

A leg emerged from the cage, long and slender, the flesh pale as moonlight. Linfey's eyes widened slightly as the other followed suit. But the creature paused, causing the Merchant to huff, tugging at the chains harder. He was met with resistance. He yanked far harder and the creature tumbled from the cage, crumpling onto the floor, covered in rich fabrics of all colors and sheen. Her long, raven hair was loosed, piling around her, and she smelled--

The Lady's nose flared as she stood abruptly, her eyes bleeding red as rage filled her. “You!” she screamed to the merchant. “You dare bring a human into this place? Into my presence? Have you no self preservation? I should—”

“Mercy!” the Merchant pleaded hysterically. “Mercy, I plead, Imperial Highness! If you would just hear her sing--”

“Sing?” she queried, a nasty sneer settling across her face. “This thing sings?”

The man nodded enthusiastically, barely breathing in his nervousness. “Yes, oh yes! Her voice is like the smoothest of silks. You must listen and you will see, why I have brought such a thing into your presence.”

The Lady regarded the human on the floor for a moment, before her gaze shifted to her son. His face was stony and uninterested, but she saw the tightness of his lips, resisting the urge to curl into a disgusted scowl. Her husband would have welcomed such a pitiful creature into their home with little question, but his soft heart is the reason that he wasn't there anymore. She looked towards the Merchant again, not bothering to hide her contempt.

“I beg you,” he said, shriveling into a low bow. “Give the girl a chance.”

“Girl,” she repeated flatly, as though the idea repulsed her. Finally, she waved her hand towards them.

The Merchant bent down, reaching into the curtain of hair. He grasped at her cheek, forcing it towards the Empress without resistance. Slowly the girl stood at his direction, turning to face the dais. She wasn't tall, shorter than the Merchant, who wasn't tall himself. Her hair was as black as the night sky and glossy, falling around her in waves. Her face was heart shaped, her almond shaped eyes wide set around her petite nose. A thick iron cuff wrapped around her neck, attached to the chain.

Very striking, as far as humans went, the Lady supposed. Even though the girl was skinny and swam in her fanciful outfit, she couldn't deny that she had the grace the Merchant had promised. But anger bristled through her. The girl reminded her of that woman, the one who will not be named.

Her husband would have loved this girl instantly, were he still alive. Disgusting.

“Songbird,” the Merchant crooned softly, grasping her hand lightly, “Sing.” Then he stepped back, letting go of her hand, waving his other one in a flourish of presentation.

She stood tall, gazing serenely at the Empress, her dark eyes penetrating. Calculating, thinking. Her eyes swept the room, from the Lady Linfey, to her son, to the ceiling and then back. Finally, she opened her mouth and held her arms out, taking a breath and--

It was the most beautiful sound that she had ever heard.

It was a language that she didn't know, the syllables of the words rising and falling with the melody. Her tone was clear as the most polished crystal, filling the space robustly. Her arms spread out before her, swelling with the tune as her eyes closed, and she lost herself in her music.

The Empress was enraptured and the Merchant smirked.

The Songbird's voice warbled on the last note before dying off, leaving the hall in silence. Her son shifted uncomfortably at her side. Finally, the Lady Linfey looked to the Merchant.

“Name your price,” she said to him. “I must have her.”

“She is truly priceless,” he responded. “I acquired her from a circus years ago, but her history before that is a mystery to me. She hails from the East though, that I am sure.”

The Empress detected no lies in his words, and the girl did have the coloring and slight stature of an Eastern lady. The man believed his words to be true and it was likely that it didn't even matter. The history of a slave was a small detail.

“Nothing is priceless,” she scoffed. “Tell me what it is that you want.”

“Your Imperial Grace,” he started, “I would be reluctant to let her go—”

“Five hundred thousand gold crowns.”

The Merchant fell silent, gaping at her. It was more than she knew he could possibly make in a lifetime, even selling the high-quality goods that he did. It would be more than enough to ensure he lived the rest of his days in comfort and luxury... even for a youkai, such as himself.

“Five hundred thousand,” he repeated.

“Did I stutter? Was I unclear? Five hundred thousand gold crowns, if you leave me this... human.” The word tasted ill on her tongue. Truth be told, she didn't want a human lurking anywhere near her home, not after what happened to her beloved husband, but--

“Mother!” her son hissed, glaring at her with eyes that were red with rage.

“Son,” she said, her tone cool. A clear warning.

One that he didn't listen to. “You dare buy this thing?”

“This thing is truly unique. You know of my weakness for one-of-a-kind things.”

“You will dishonor Father if you do this. Gave you forgotten--”

“Sesshoumaru!” she snapped. He stopped short, nostrils flaring and eyes burning red, like a child knee-deep in a tantrum. She resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff; he son was still so young. “Do not dare presume that I have forgotten the fate of my husband. I swear to you, I can neverforget, nor will I ever forgive.” Despite her harsh words, she paused bowed her head in respect for her husband. Her son was angry, seething really, but he did not respond. She turned her gaze back to the Merchant. “Do we have a deal, Merchant?”

“Five hundred thousand crowns, for the Songbird.” It was like he couldn't comprehend basic words.

“That is the offer.”

“Then I accept.” He stuck his hands into his sleeves and bowed deeply in reverence. “I leave to you the child, and her cage.”

“My adviser will see to it that you get paid. Good day, Merchant.”

He bowed once more, before turning to take his leave, his business partners and the rest of his wares following close behind.

“Son,” she started, but when she looked to her side, she found that her son was already gone. She let out a small sigh, before she turned her attention back to the child. Slowly, she stood from her throne, climbing slowly off of the dais and down the steps. Reaching out, she grasped the girl by the chin, forcing her to look up.

“Do you know who I am, girl?” She did not answer. Her eyes watched the Empress, expressive but wary. The Lady squeezed her her jaw tighter, her nails just barely digging into her skin. It would be easy to snap the bone between her fingertips like it was nothing.

But still, the girl said nothing. “Do you not speak?”

There were no words, but her eyes spoke volumes. She was scared, even if she didn't shake like a leaf in her grip. The girl understood the threat. The Lady's lips twisted into a smug smirk, satisfied. She would allow this... thing within her home, but at a price.

“I do not like humans,” she told the Songbird. “In fact, I detest your kind. You however... you are special, something truly unique. A treasure. I collect treasures, and so now, you are mine. You will have your health as long as you mind your place.” She motioned to the cage. “So, do as I say.”

The regarded her silently for a moment before she stepped towards the cage, her feet padding delicately along the floor. She folded herself into the cage, pulling and coiling the chain after her in a practiced motion. The Lady shut the door tightly behind her.

“Take her to the Gallery,” she said, waving to a few of her guards. “I'm sure that you can find a place to put her.”

The men nodded, hefting the gilded cage as if it weighed nothing. The Lady watched as the girl gazed at her solemnly through the bars. If she had had a heart, perhaps she would have felt guilt, or even pity for the child who had been bought like a a pet. But she had no heart and she did not care for anything, other than the twisted sense of irony that flooded her chest

She smiled sweetly at the girl child, forcing her lips into a charming quirk that dripped poison and malice, and said, “Welcome to the Western Palace, my little Songbird.”

--

--

--

I’ve hit six chapters, in addition to this prologue on Songbird, and honestly I’m really proud. I have a tendency to start a project... and then restart a project because I’m not happy with it. For the first time, I like something that I’ve written, I have a clear plan and plot, and I’m just plowing forth.  Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and supported my work, in their spare time! 

[michelemoore]

Takhuk

September, 2021

Michele Moore V

3 QUESTIONS I AM ASKING MYSELF BEFORE VOTING IN THIS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY FEDERAL ELECTION

‘The hardest thing about any political campaign is how to win without proving that you are unworthy of winning’. (Theodor Adorno)

Hello!

I hope this September, 2021 edition of Takhuk finds you well. How was your July/August? A blast? Peaceful? Crazy busy? Difficult?

Mine was a little bit of all of those things. Best blast – taking 4 little boys, ages 2, 4, 7, 9 (grandsons) for a day at the creek on a hot summer day. Preventing child drownings and making sure each kid got their fair share of the best snacks were my primary duties, which came with a few unforgettable moments. My favourite - when the 7 year old asked the 2 year old to spread his hands to demonstrate the size of the fish he had just seen. The 2 year old did exactly what fishers are famous for (his father is a fisher - is it genetic?) He began with his hands about six inches apart, and ended at about two feet. (I’m pretty sure what the 2 year old saw was a minnow.)

I also enjoyed a few peaceful moments on mountain tops and a deliciously relaxing five day stretch camping beside a river under a mountain that glowed with the sunset every night. No forest fire smoke. No rain.

Along with these wonderful interludes, my summer had a weighty dose of crazy busy. Important and unavoidable stuff that comes along in one’s life. The heaviest?  We moved. But, we had to rent until the house we bought became available. So we actually moved twice. We are now gratefully installed in our new home, which was built in 1981 and still has a lot of the original equipment, (including a first generation vintage microwave which doesn’t work but looks so cool I’m wondering if I should keep it in the wall just for decoration). Along with the hours and hours of packing and hauling boxes around, we have also been spending a lot of time talking to renovators. And furnace people. A LOT of time with furnace people. Still don’t know what furnace is best. Any suggestions?

All of the foregoing (except the grandchildren) has little significance in light of the array of truly serious issues we humans are currently grappling with.

Yes, serious issues that need immediate attention. Yet, here we are, facing another federal election. Geesh. Will politicians ever, ever, ever, stop playing political games? Is there a place on this earth anywhere that has freed itself from the yoke of political maneuvering and scheming? Everyone knows why Trudeau called this election. And everyone knows the Conservatives would have done the same thing. It’s a game, of course. A game to win power. Perhaps all politicians should be required to play hockey for a few hours every morning before they head into work. To rid themselves of some of that competitive, power hungry juice that flows in their veins and infects their thinking.

Having once been a politician myself (municipal level), I have seen from the inside what can happen when people get a taste of the power that comes with being elected. It’s dangerous stuff. There are so many well-meaning and truly committed individuals who want to ‘give back’ by serving in government. I was one of those people. I simply had an interest in the political process, I understood the value of supporting and engaging in our political system, which is actually one of the most transparent in the world (yes, it’s true). The value I saw was in being able to protect and if possible improve the democratic process, to ensure honesty in government, to seek fairness in government, and to work with others to find the best possible solutions to a never ending parade of problems that come with being human. As a municipal councillor, our Reeve (like a mayor), sought consensus amongst the elected council, never calling for a vote until we had reached an agreement. Sometimes this Reeve would keep us talking and debating for hours, so determined was he to make us find consensus. The second tray of donuts would be long gone, the eye glass cleaner all used up, our bums gone numb, our backs stiff as petrified wood. But it was worth it. Consensus is a precious thing. A precious thing that helps maintain a productive, positive, and respectful working elected group, which can then honestly and confidently project the reasons for decisions taken.

In my years as a municipal politician, I worked with and met many excellent people in government – both elected and hired. I also met some who were definitely in it for the game, for the showmanship, for the perks. These people rarely had any clear ideas or solutions, they had chosen to go into politics for the power, really. And those perks.

I met people who did not want to hear anyone else’s views of the world. People who did not want to listen to other ways of thinking. Their views, their ways of thinking, were the only valid ones, the only right ones. And they were so convinced of this that their single purpose goal was to impose on others their ideology, because that’s really what it was. Ideology. No point in debating their ideology with those who had different ideas, because those who did not also adhere to this ideology were obviously wrong. Of course as I write this I am thinking of some very specific individuals I came across during my time in politics. I found these kinds of people in riding association meetings, I found them at high level roundtables, I found them in the stock exchange on Bay Street in Toronto at the inaugural meeting of a now well established think tank filled at the time with some of Canada’s high profile ideological loudmouths. So they are literally everywhere.

Promoting an ideology is often expressed as a ‘movement’. I believe this to be deliberately deceptive. I think most of us associate the word ‘movement’ with fundamental rights such as freedom from discrimination, freedom from dictatorship, freedom from persecution. Martin Luther King led a movement. Nellie McClung (women’s right to vote), led a movement. A political ideology is not a movement. It is simply a way of viewing the world, a belief system about how our government should be structured and how our economic system should function.

So all of this is why the following is the first question I am asking myself as I determine who will get my vote: Do I believe the candidate will pursue consensus and is genuinely willing to listen to and consider, openly and respectfully, other points of view? Does the candidate see the inherent value in consensus? Will this person promote the idea of consensus to the leader of their party? Will this candidate seek consensus in their day to day duties? When someone is elected or hired into government, consensus, in the back offices, in committees, in caucus, and ultimately in Parliament, is the best way to achieve a successful, functioning government. Consensus should be the goal whenever possible. It’s a hard thing to achieve, but it is so worth it. Like a family huddle to decide where to go on vacation, or a team meeting to decide which tournaments to enter. Everyone buys in when decisions are made by consensus.

The second question I am asking myself:  Do I believe the candidate recognizes that we must move forward, not backward, in terms of public policy? In other words, is the candidate someone who understands that societies naturally change and evolve, and therefore public policies, too, must evolve? Societies create systems that respond to the times, and then times change, and so then, must systems. Thus, we no longer have feudalism in Europe, or monarchs and serfs. In the western world we no longer have children working in factories. Today, all children have the right to an education, regardless of their roots. There was a time when only the wealthy and privileged had access to education. (We no longer have teachers smoking inside schools either - remember when that was the norm?) We no longer bring foreign workers here to build our infrastructure (thousands of Chinese immigrants build the Canadian Pacific Railroad) and then impose a Head Tax on their relatives – a tax designed to stop family members from being able to come to Canada to join their husbands and fathers (and of course, the government of the day that came up with this way of thanking these workers also hoped the Head Tax would compel those workers to return to China to rejoin their families in what was then a war torn and impoverished place). Today, new immigrants driving taxis, serving up a Timmy’s coffee, cleaning hospital floors and taking care of our elderly do not pay a head tax for their families to join them. Today, we invite immigrants here to help us build and run the country and thank them by giving them the opportunity to become Canadian citizens. 

This seems critical to me. That we elect people who are in touch with and keen observers of changing societies and who will look for ways to accommodate that change while also championing the values that we all share – equality of opportunity, equitable access to the fundamentals of a decent society – healthcare, education, housing, personal security. Peace.

The last question I am asking myself: this time, is it the party or the individual MP in my riding that best connects with the first two questions. We all know that drill. Sometimes the leader is so clearly capable or inept that we vote only on that one point. Sometimes a party’s platform is so repelling to us personally that we choose by elimination. Sometimes platforms and leaders are all coming up the same colour and that’s when we start looking at the candidate in our own riding.

I’m keeping it that simple because my personal opinion on the many issues we face will not matter if we do not elect representatives who are open-minded, respectful, and forward thinking.

As someone with whom I recently had a great political debate said, ‘that’s just my two cents worth’.

‘The measure of a man (or woman) is what he (or she) does with power. Pittacus

 michelemooreveldhoen.com

[violetsystems]

#personal

I still haven't gotten my passport back yet. Old or new. I'm sure it's on the way but taking its sweet time. It hasn't been that big of a deal though it's a heavy inconvenience not being able to legally identify yourself. I have an expired driver's license and a lot of paperwork but that's not really good enough for most of Illinois. Work or leisure. I don't drink and don't really frequent bars anymore. I work for myself though I haven't paid myself yet this year. You have to have valid ID to be gainfully employed by someone else here. If I didn't have my life together already it would be more than annoying. I have health insurance still under a subsidy. I had my teeth cleaned earlier this week. No cavities. Mostly due to the electric toothbrush. I bought a waterpik right after. I've been so bored that I've started attacking problems I wanted to solve years ago. There's still drawers full of crap that needs to be thrown out. Lifetimes of shit do pile up if you are focused on other things like a dead end job or selfish personal relationships. I don't have either of those these days. So there really isn't any excuse for dirty drawers. I'm not planning to shit myself anytime soon to revisit the past. Which leaves the present and the future wide open. Much of that is dictated by my love of computers. I figured out how to mine finally. The open source way. I spent a lot of time in a terminal trying to apply the right definitions to scan my phone for the Pegasus spyware. I do think the results were negative so I'd rather not dwell on the past. Being a technological professional I have definitely spent a lot on electricity. That same idea of dirty drawers applies. You turn things on believing that they are ecologically friendly. It says so on the package. You don't dig enough to gather factual data to know it for sure. You get distracted by real life. Headlines. Drama. Nosy neighbors. The list goes on. And all the while, it just keeps bleeding out. I bought these smart plugs. Half of them monitor energy. The other half I didn't read the description close enough when I bought them. The ones that do measure electrical usage, I've set up in high power rooms. Both those and the low power rooms I can kill switch from my phone or whisper to my smart assistant to power off. I pay the electricity for the unit below me as well but that's more the agreement I have with my landlord. The biggest expense for me is always the AC and the heat. The appliances and everything else are just the icing on the cake. My rent has been affordable enough that with a little care and attention I can stay on budget. I never had that freedom or time to feel motivated enough to try. Now I know my razer laptop draws less than my rice cooker. Not that I'm the twelve hour rice in the rice cooker kind of guy. I have cooked chicken in it. What can I say I've had a lot of time on my hands. This happens when you can't identify yourself.

Sometimes you don't want to be identified. My past is so far behind me that it's a broken narrative. I've written about this narrative for years on this platform. I think it's a great place to write. This morning I saw a Tor books ad that looked like a regular blog post. Soon you'll be able to charge a subscription for your content if you wish. I'm not really here for that but I do think it's a great tool for creators. Bandcamp is still the easiest way for me to release music and shirts when I'm super fucking bored. But somehow five or six people always seem to support it when I do. I sold a shirt all the way out on the Ukraine once out of nowhere. I personally find it easier to mine and watch my electric bill right now then to fight to be seen as an artist. But situations do evolve over time under the right circumstances. And community is something I have never complained about Tumblr not having. Real life? Yes I have a lot of room to complain about the lack of community or respect for individual rights and will. But control over things is something I do have. And I've learned how to do that through setting boundaries for myself. I've learned a lot of those boundaries from being part of the culture down here. Unassuming. Anonymous. Hellbent on keeping it real. Chicago can sometimes be the same. It hasn't always been in the past. The fact that I'm completely disconnected from it is a large clue. The past. Not Chicago. I live here. Just like I do on Tumblr. That's a joke. But being able to write and stand my ground has given me a voice here and sometimes in the real world. Sometimes the wrong people listen. Or people get the wrong idea and make it more about them than me. But life goes on. If anything is true from what I wrote about a year ago, it's that I've both changed and stayed the same. There's things I can't escape about myself. Even if I can't prove to the state of Illinois I'm real enough to buy legal weed. Or how I've been fully vaccinated since April. Or how I can just leisurely set up a mining rig for research in my home office. How I can write here and challenge the status quo just by being the exception. Tumblr probably isn't going anywhere, anytime soon. I can't unlock any of my other social media from the past due to unfortunate circumstances related to identity and email. Not that I'm really complaining anymore. I was. As invisible as I am it feels more like a cloaking device than anything. Chicago in the news can be very dangerous and very wild. And yet, if anyone knows anything about me, I walk everywhere. Slow enough for people to follow you for blocks on end. Wanting to be seen. Worried about my safety. Worried about their safety because I left the house for once. Worried about everything. I'm not really that worried. Annoyed? Beyond annoyed. But as angry as I get, negativity does nothing for me to foster. It makes me look like every other secretly insecure white man here and just makes the turbulence around here worse.

If you have time enough to measure the difference in wattage between your rice cooker and your 6700xt gpu on full blast, you probably have time to pay attention to nuance. I pick up on the little things these days. I get that I share a porch with my neighbors and a cat. I get that I share a neighborhood too. I get that as a cis heterosexual white male I operate with privilege. It's not that hard to understand how to humble yourself in the presence of others. It's not hard to see how people have fought for rights harder than yourself. We're all fighting for the same thing. Freedom. I am understanding where I control the narrative and where I'm a guest. Where I don't have a say over other people's bodies, souls, or thoughts. I'm just as frightened by abuses or power and authority and yet they come as no surprise. I deleted everything Blizzard on my systems and am never looking back. I walk anywhere I choose freely with only a few annoyances. Jesus freaks and right wing antagonists are always up in my face trying to get a rise out of me. People think I'm a demon or haunted by some pirate ghosts. I have pretty good intuition and timing. I was a dj for like two decades. Beatmatching and pattern recognition. I get that I scare people and intimidate them just by breathing. Men are scary. Even to me. "Not all men!" Part of the reason people keep their distance from me is something I have to understand. I think we all have to understand who we are and what we can become when we live without care or intention. A lot of people just sleepwalk through this and blame the victims. They feel it's a weakness to share power. Sharing power is what cultivates freedom. But sharing power is almost pure chaos. It takes a lot of responsibility. And a lot of questioning of authority while asking the right questions and not just pinning a tail on a donkey. It's in the nuances and the people where freedom blossoms. Not in the polls or the pundits. We the people signifies something about America we ourselves have lost sight of. People buy their way into office at the behest of corporate and special interest money. The people are out there suffering while the profits guide the government. And it's really only the people who can turn this thing around. Here in Chicago, we know with our heart of hearts what to do. We have done it for so long. We survive together. We may not always like each other. We may feel like people are breathing down our necks and judging our every turn. But we always know where each other stands. We can stand to treat each other better. At least respecting that people have walls built up for protection more often than to hide something criminal. At least give people the space they need to grow. I have a lot of space to mine and play games. If I stay inside, it's so I don't rock the boat. If I go outside, just remember I have feelings too. We all could do better not to get caught up in them because we're overwhelmed by the bullshit. The bullshit we're in together. Respect is what is going to get us through. And I identify as down for the culture. As an ally you have my word. Love is the future. And the future is for everyone. <3 Tim