And with that, I have the whole Stagehand outfit, and no candles left in my wallet. SO glad there’s ANOTHER traveling spirit this weekend.

✨grinding✨

How Art Challenges Made Me a Better Artist

(Watch the YouTube video!)

There are tons of different art challenges; I think there's a popular challenge every month—Inktober, plain airpril, creatuanuary, huevember, mermay, to name a few. Usually, influencer artists start a challenge with a hashtag. And it spreads throughout the community.

Participating in art challenges has become almost a norm, especially in recent years. And there are benefits in doing so: 

You become part of the artists' community. 

If your work is good enough, you can have exposure and grow your audience. 

You can experiment and try new things.

And last but not least, you have fun. 

They are also supposed to encourage people to draw every day and become better artists by improving their skills. (I'm not sure about this one, but I'll get back to it later.)

On the opposite side, I've seen artists, even professional ones, resist participating in these hashtag art challenges. So let's look at the disadvantages: 

There's pressure to draw every day, and if you skip one, then there's a feeling of failure.

There's also a direct comparison with amazing artists, and for some of us, that can be discouraging. 

Another negative I've seen recently is the obsession with getting followers and growing an audience. Of course, I understand the interest in that; we all want an audience. Still, I've seen artists, beginners especially, focusing on the followers more than on their drawing skills.

I think the most significant disadvantage, and this is something that happens to me, so I know this by experience. Is that, I would prepare myself to draw daily for one month. I would accomplish the 30 or 31 drawings and be happy with my results, but then, when the challenge was over, I wouldn't draw. Instead of being constant with my practice and growth, I would grind during that particular month and never grind the same for the rest of the year. I was treating drawing as a sprint when it's a marathon.

Looking at the "improving your skills" benefit and the disadvantages. I think there are better ways to improve and be a better artist. Don't get me wrong, the act alone of drawing every day will make you progress. It's just that I don't think these particular challenges are very beginner-friendly. 

Introduciiiiing the "Make Your Own Personal Challenge"... Challenge!

Anybody can create their own challenge, and you can choose to share or not your results on social media. You don't need to be a professional artist, you don't need to be popular, and your challenge can be whatever you want. For example, look at this Haikyuu themed challenge. So just like you can make a challenge to satisfy your love for an IP and draw fan-arts during a month. You can also make a personal challenge to focus on improving what you want and need. 

That's what I did on my Drawing Leveling Up challenge. I don't intend for other artists to follow it. It doesn't have a theme; it's not a hashtag with prompts. When I started it, I had no idea where it was going. If you see the videos, you'll notice that I change my mind from one day to the next. I just wanted to improve my anatomy drawing, and I wanted to do it as fast as possible. Committing to a challenge was the best way I found to force myself to study daily.

I want to show you the challenge an animator did: zoray99 on Instagram.  They uploaded a daily animation exercise throughout a whole year. It was rough, focused on learning and improving. Look how simple this day's animation is, they wanted to really understand what was happening here.  Doing that for a whole year is impressive, and I'm guessing Zoray feels satisfied with the achievement, but more importantly, how much they learned. 

So if you're a beginner artist and the well-known hashtag art challenges overwhelm you, you can create your challenge to improve at your own pace. You only have to set up doable boundaries:

The first you need is a time limit; this is important because the ending and objective are not clear without a time limit, affecting your commitment and confidence. For a daily challenge, a month would be ideal. But you can also choose to draw every other day instead of daily. You can also say something like, "I'll draw daily on this sketchbook with a 15-minute time limit until I finish it." Those boundaries are helpful because maybe you don't have a lot of time to spend on drawing.

Another useful boundary is a prompt list. Sometimes we spend more time thinking about what to draw than drawing. If you want to evolve as an artist, I recommend following a book and study from it. Or you can focus on a specific study subject you want to improve, like "sketching backgrounds for 15 days". 

Another thing is that, for hashtag challenges, most of us try to make finished illustrations with ink and color and everything. So you can also determine how far you want to go with each drawing, simple sketches, ink, and painting? You decide.

My personal challenge's boundaries were: drawing daily for 30 days following the lessons and tutorials of artists on youtube. That way, I didn't have to think about what to draw, the "prompts" were their videos, and also, my sketches didn't even need to be clean. This challenge's purpose was to study.

The best part is that you control your challenge and improvement. If there are things you struggle with, you can repeat and practice them more. You can also slowly increase the difficulty. That's what I did when I implemented the animated anatomy studies. 

With a personal challenge, you can focus on self-growth. And leave the hashtag challenges to have fun, experiment, and be part of the community.

Ok, but does making a personal challenge help you improve? Mine finished on May 30. Am I a better artist now?

To measure my drawing improvement, I made some life drawing exercises in "class" format, and then without a time limit, I drew some poses from my imagination. Comparing them to day 11 and day 16 of my challenge, I think I improved a little, drawing-wise speaking. 

The biggest difference is not in my skills, though. It's in my mindset. I feel the challenge made me feel better while drawing. I feel less stressed and with more confidence. I am still doing the anatomy animations I started on day 21, even though the daily challenge ended. So it also gave me the boost I needed to keep grinding forward. Like a marathon, not a sprint. And that's what matters the most. 

If you feel artistically stuck, or you're not enjoying drawing as much as you once did, or you want to polish your skills or learn something new, you can make a personal challenge and focus it on self-improvement. It's hugely motivating for other artists and me to see someone challenging themself, and coming out better. 

Yandere dog man in heat, please.

At first I got really confused, and I came up with three different scenarios of how this could play out:

Medieval Monster Dog Man: Kinda like a werewolf, really feral but maybe he can't transform into a human (making it a different type of monster). In this setting I imagined monsters and humans being kinda against one another.

Modern Anthro Dog Man: Beastars basically, a world where either everyone is an anthro animal (furry lol-), or a world where humans and anthro/monster animals coexist in a modernized setting.

Anime Neko Style: A dog man with more human features than dog-like, leaving his tail and his ears and a couple of mannerisms.

Let me see what I can do for you, boo.

TW/Tags: basic horniness (nsfw stuff: mentions of pillow grinding, vague biting kink, sexual frustration, implied sex after ending, slight mentions of breeding kink, etc) // gender neutral/nonspecific reader // I decided to go with a semi fantasy setting, although vaguely described so you can imagine this universe the way you like // I consider him to be from some kind of monster species-

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Partners through tough and thin [Yandere!DogMan/Monster?? x GN!Reader - Headcanons]:

Let's start with a bit of an off-topic: Did you read my mind boo? Did you know that I was planning on adding a section to the Masterlist dedicated to humanoid/animalistic monsters? I was thinking more about driders/insectoid monsters actually- But I don't really mind this.

Regardless, let's set up the context!

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec!🎇

So, I won't talk for too long this time, just a quick basic talk about your relationship with Flint (don't @ me, I'm terrible at picking names out of the blue-).

You two meet each other pretty much by coincidence, both of you were looking for people to form an adventuring party with- But ultimately finding almost no luck.

To be fair, you weren't really looking for an adventure with strangers, as mostly you just wanted to gain more knowledge by exploring your vast world with someone you would at least want to be near with. You were a couple of ranks above him, yet you found him to be such great company that you two formed some sort of bond over the time you guys spent together.

Expedition after expedition, and it started to feel like you two were more than random colleagues being together just for the sake of finishing a task, it felt like you two were mutual friends that were so accustomed to working together that it felt weird being separated or near strangers.

You were surprised to find someone so easy to rely on, so sweet and kind and extremely gullible. After seeing so many narcissistic jerks who only wanted someone to carry their stuff and do all the hard work while you stood by and watched them take all the glory of completing their quest- It felt like a breeze of fresh air to find Flint looking for someone as well.

Which was weird considering how easily any of them would have taken him to be their personal walking inventory.

You two didn't get along right away, but you guys did warm up to each other as the time passed on. You thought Flint was too childish and Flint thought you were too stern, and even after five years of working with each other, nothing seems to have changed.

Nothing except a better understanding between you two. Even with your differences, it was as if you two were inseparable at this point.

Flint is a lovely guy, you can't tell if it's because of his dog side, but he radiates Good Boy Energy™. He is loyal to you as an adventuring partner, and he is the best friend someone can have, yet you would be lying if you said you knew everything about him.

Flint is not the best at hiding things, especially his own emotions and even he knows about that! Throughout these five years you two spent together, Flint would always try to keep his distance from you in certain times of the year.

At first you didn't understand why did he act so weird and be so distant from you- Until you realized what was happening and you started to feel stupid for not getting it sooner- Fling goes through a heat cycle every six months and that has proven to be quite the interesting change to your routine- Considering you never knew (and still doesn't know-) what to do about it.

Flint always told you it was fine- It was a normal thing to him at this point and you didn't need to worry about it- You just needed to keep a reasonable distance from him and… Close your ears every night through these cycles.

It was fine, you know? I mean- To you it's a bit of an awkward situation as you aren't the same species or him/or don't go through these heat cycles as him- But to him it was absolutely normal. Inconvenient, but normal.

You have no idea what he does to himself to stop it from getting in the way of your partnerships- But one can't help but be curious, especially since he could just stay home if he wasn't feeling alright, he didn't need to continue this journey.

For some reason he always preferred to ignore it and keep going, to focus on his task to be able to give in to the carnal instincts brewing inside him. That was before he met you, however.

He always had dealt with his heat by occupying his mind, and it worked for the most part- But why does it feel so strong now? Why does it feel so unbearable?

It's been a couple of days that he can't find peace anymore, even if he tries to ease his pain each night, it nevers seems to get better. Whatever medication/potion or spell he could use to stop it, it wasn't working anymore, he somehow felt just as if not more sensitive than he was before he took those.

It wasn't just his body that was struggling to find some rest, his mind was also being haunted by mockeries of his own fantasies- To be fair, he hasn't been in peace with himself for a long time now, probably longer than he thinks, but you know how it is- You don't know you have fallen in love with someone until it's too late, and he has just recently discovered the seed of affection towards you growing into something more and more.

He had a crush on you, he doesn't know for how long yet it feels like it has been an eternity- It doesn't really help that you two spend more time with each other than with other adventurers and explorers, and it doesn't help that while you're sleeping in your tent, approximately 15 meters away from his own, as his mind is filled with worse and worse thoughts about you-

It's way too late at night for him to be feeling so needy- He's been trying to relieve himself for maybe 3 hours already, yet he still hasn't been able to calm down his mind and body. He has been carefully listening to each sound that came from outside, more specifically from inside your tent. Every snore, every breath, every whine you give in your sleep is making him mad with feelings he shouldn't have let it grow to this extent. He was supposed to be listening carefully to make sure you're safe, but instead he is having lewd ideas about your sleeping noises.

The feelings and thoughts that are suddenly coming to his mind are nothing short of disgusting to him, he knows he shouldn't be thinking I'll of an friend he loves so much, he shouldn't be craving someone to this degrading extent- Yet he can't stop biting his pillow and imagining it to be you, constantly breathing out your name while crying pathetically as he continues to indulge in this act while his mind is in a half sleep state.

So sleepy in fact that he hasn't heard you coming inside his tent- He wasn't even sure if your soft caressing was real or just a figment of his own twisted mind. He feels so grossed out by his own mind, he would rather believe this is all a dream then to realize he was being so loud you decided to come inside and see if he was okay-

Please, he is already the worst being alive just for fantasizing about you- Don't tell him he woke you up with his whining, it makes him feel more pathetic.

It's such a bittersweet situation, you came here genuinely deciding to help him out however you could- Not because of pity, but for something more than just wanting to help him ease his urges- But even if he is earning for this with all his heart, he feels too bad about himself to stop crying and apologizing for what he was about to do. You two seemed to have your hearts in the same direction, but can he control his instinct to take you for himself and breed you?

It doesn't really matter if he can or not breed you, his mind is already lost to countless nights without sleeping and constant thoughts about loving you and making love with you- Whatever sense of logic has been thrown out of the window.

However, maybe he isn't completely lost! Maybe he'll try his best to be more romantic about this, as it wasn't really how he expected it to happen. Even if he is currently acting like a lovesick lust beast, you don't need to worry because the good boy as your partner is commonly known for will be back in the morning, just a bit more clingy and overly protective of you.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

until now - m!raleigh carrera x mc (plat)

author’s note: trying my hand at a shorter piece and for platinum – there will probably be at least one follow-up to this but both will stay as one-shots.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. songs and lyrics owned by their respective creators. series/pairing: platinum – raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian); mentions of jessica clark (red carpet diaries mc) rating/warnings: 13+; swearing, infidelity, angst word count: 1.7k based on/prompt: “should’ve said no” by taylor swift summary: raleigh gets too drunk and too close to a fan and the only real relationship he’s ever had falls apart.

until now

cadence could recall exactly where she was the moment r&b’s timebomb blew up the internet. she couldn’t recall with detail how she felt or how she reacted in that immediate moment but she could describe the exact shade of brown from her morning latte that stained the open page of her notebook because she stared at it for a solid five minutes after the headlines broke. she was working on a new single for her upcoming album that needed an angsty, heartbreak vibe to balance the upbeat, love-focused songs she had already written. she had a few lines written (it’s strange to think the songs we used to sing / the smiles, the flowers, everything) but had been struggling with motivation to come up with anything more – after all, she hadn’t been heartbroken in a while.

she was happy in her relationship with raleigh and where she was in her career. her first world tour had been a huge success, with raleigh joining her on tour as often as he could. after her tour was over, he insisted he didn’t want to wake up in his apartment without her and it didn’t take long before cadence moved into his penthouse. a few months later, she was able to join raleigh for the beginning of his transformation world tour, his first album since deciding he could embrace the things he enjoyed from his sunset skatepark days, making it his most personal project to date. of course, whenever the music and obligations to the studio called her back to new york, they facetimed as much as they could.

dating cadence had given raleigh some of the “good boyfriend” brownie points with the public related to loyalty and affection. it helped that cadence defended him against unfair accusations and doubled down on how well he treated her to the media and their fans. and no matter what part of his reputation was theme-of-the-week over at the tabloids – shameless flirt, heartbreaker, wild card, adrenaline junkie, to name the popular ones – raleigh never gave anyone a reason to label him as a cheater and more importantly, never gave cadence any reason not to trust him. even in his fake relationships, raleigh made sure that that part of his reputation was sterling. until now.

her phone had buzzed non-stop when the news broke – to the point where she thought she was getting phone calls that sounded like a ticking time bomb but they were mostly texts and social media notifications. the headlines filled her feed one after another – “raleigh carerra cheats on cadence dorian!” “did ralence break-up?” “was cadence too boring for raleigh?” “cadence drives raleigh into arms of another woman!” – along with hundreds of theories painted by devastated and thirsty fans alike who picked apart every public appearance, interaction, social media post, and song lyric associated with the two of them for the past six months as if they could find incriminating clues and signs of a slowly fizzling relationship like amateur sleuths. cadence had to give them props – it’s not like she wouldn’t eventually do the same once she was ready to process the relationship; in some ways, the fans gave her a head start.

how was she supposed to react to this right now? the photos and videos definitely highlighted that sabrina simmons, who cadence vaguely recognized as a media-hungry and wannabe actress from one of raleigh’s older music videos, cozying up to and grinding on raleigh at a club in london, presumably the afterparty for the closing night of his tour. cadence could also point out every tell-tale sign that raleigh was drunk out of his mind; he was relishing in the attention from sabrina and being inappropriately handsy for someone in a well-known, committed relationship. what most people didn’t know, was that cadence could forgive that – raleigh was normally flirty and handsy and alcohol always exacerbated it. what she didn’t think she could forgive was the next thing she saw – or rather heard.

if cadence felt like she was close to either having a raging smash-everything-breakable-in-raleigh’s-apartment spree or an emotional-because-her-heart-was-actually-breaking meltdown, the audio clip that hit her inbox pushed her to the teetering edge of both. the recording was barely 15 seconds long but it was damning. given the circumstances, it was probably planted or planned by sabrina who wanted to catapult herself into internet fame by taking advantage of raleigh’s reputation. her voice could be heard asking him if he wanted to come back to her hotel room. the question didn’t matter to cadence though, because raleigh’s response – “fuck yes” – was clear as day and cadence knew it would haunt her for months to come.

[jessica: just saw the videos – u ok? i’m heading home to iowa for a break from work, come stay with me, no one will find you there]

cadence quickly typed out a text reply, grateful for the close friendship she had with jessica clarke, the actress-turned-director who directed the music video for her last single. there was only one call she needed to make. if anyone was already putting things in motion, it was fiona. right on cue, she picked up and before cadence could say two words, said, “i’m so sorry cadence. i’ve already got movers on the other line and hank’s on his way.”

“thanks fiona. i’m going to stay with jessica in iowa and lay low for a bit. raleigh is not allowed to find out where i am; i will get a new phone if i need to,” cadence said, calmly starting to pull out and sort her things from raleigh’s closet so the movers would know exactly what to pack while she ironed out a few more details with fiona.

raleigh was still way too drunk when his manager barged into his hotel room and forced him into the shower. he was very drunk when his security team had to half-drag him all the way to where the private jet was waiting at the airport. he was mostly drunk throughout the eight-hour flight back to new york and progressed to staggeringly hungover by the time he was in a private car heading back to his penthouse apartment. once raleigh felt like he was only massively hungover, he pulled out his phone to text cadence. he became only mostly hungover after seeing that his texts weren’t going through. in a matter of seconds, his now slightly hungover state took a backseat to the anxiety filling his stomach as he tried calling to no avail. he frowned as he opened his news feed. the headlines alone made his eyes widen but the videos were what sobered him up the rest of the way.

a new email in his inbox from cadence caught his eye. it was an audio clip and a straightforward message: just so we’re clear, our relationship is over.

cadence was halfway to the airport when she saw the incoming call from an unknown number. she knew it was probably raleigh since she had blocked his number, but she answered the call anyway. she knew she was going to need the closure, may as well get it out of the way.

“cadence? it’s me, please don’t hang up. i’m so sorry, babe. i have no idea what happened, believe me. i woke up in my own hotel room alone, i promise,” raleigh begged, the pit in his stomach had lodged itself in his throat, threatening to turn into tears.

she chose to ignore what he just said. if she let herself pull at that thread and dig into it further to see if it was the truth, she’d never be able to end things cleanly. “tell me this – was she worth it? was she worth this?” she asked, her voice hardened as a reminder to both herself and raleigh that he couldn’t sweet talk his way out of this one.

“of course not. i was black out drunk and don’t remember anything, i swear. all of the stuff in the videos and photos, it was all just—” raleigh’s voice softened, “a moment of weakness.”

“that’s convenient since i’m pretty sure this wasn’t an isolated moment,” cadence said in a clipped tone, examining her worn nail beds. she made a mental note to ask jessica for salon recommendations in her hometown. “do you honestly expect me to believe we could ever be the same?”

“i love you, cadence. i would never cheat on you, babe – you have to believe me,” raleigh pleaded, swallowing his pride at the fact that he was begging right now.

cadence let out a dry, humorless laugh. “i don’t have to do anything, those recordings speak for themselves. you should’ve known that what you did with her would get back to me. and you know what i think? you knew what you were doing. you actually had everything you could’ve ever wanted – the fame, fortune, and creative freedom that comes with success in this industry and something real with someone who cares about the real you, not the curated, fake version of you.”

she paused to take a deep breath and blink back the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. keep it together, cadence, she told herself. “and it scared the shit out of you, didn’t it? it got too real for you because having something real and precious as love in your life also means you could lose it too. and even the thought of that happening made you feel so vulnerable that instead of treasuring and protecting it you decided to utterly destroy the only real relationship you’ve ever had. congratulations – you’ve perfected your bad boy reputation and collected the last trophy you needed, cheater.”

her words cut right through him. “i— i’m so sorry, cadence,” raleigh whispered into the phone. “i swear, i don’t remember saying yes to her or even doing anything with her. please just, tell me what i need to do to fix this.”

the audio recording replayed on loop in cadence’s mind. after a long pause, she whispered back, “you should’ve said no.” the finality of cadence’s tone was punctuated by the beep from his phone indicating she had hung up.

raleigh stood up from the couch where he had sat while on the phone with cadence. as he walked toward the bathroom, he finally looked around his apartment and realized that all of her stuff was gone. the apartment was empty, quiet, almost sterile with its clear surface areas and shiny, clean floors. it was like she had never lived here; his closet didn’t have the hint of jasmine from the perfume on her clothes, his sink counter was devoid of her jewelry and makeup, his music room wasn’t drowning in loose sheets of paper covered in her handwriting, and worst of all, the clothes she always borrowed of his, including his oversized tour shirts and sweatpants, were folded neatly on his bed.

he reached into the back corner of his closet, the side closest to the door, where no one ever stored or looked for anything until he found his gym bag. his felt around the old shirts in the bag until his fingers wrapped around a small, velvet box. he didn’t have to open it to recall the vivid five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring he had planned on proposing to cadence with. he held the box against his forehead, hand clenched around it, before throwing it as hard as he could out the bedroom door into the living room, twisting and turning his body from a crouching to an upright position in one smooth motion. maybe he should’ve been a baseball pitcher instead. it hit the far wall with a resounding thud.

the echo reverberated throughout his living room until it was met with silence, once again reminding him that he was utterly alone. and for the first time in a very long time, he cried. raleigh carrera had never been heartbroken before. until now.

* * * * * mentions: @raleigh-edward; @dulceghernandez; @thegreentwin; @kat-tia801; @otherworldlypresents; @brycesgirl; @robintora;

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!! 

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

  Chapter One

A Dead Brother

          I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

           My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

           Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of  “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

           Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

           “Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.  

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

  ❈

             “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

           “Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

           Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

           It rang four times before he picked up.

           “Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

           “Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

           I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

           “Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

 Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

 My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

 This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood –  that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene.  My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

  I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

 ❈

             The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

           The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

           I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

           Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

           My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

             We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

           The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

           As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

           The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

AU-gust Day 6- Hospital

I’m here early! Mostly because I had a lot of this written earlier, so if that didn’t make it obvious enough I really liked this prompt. While it’s a hospital prompt is isn’t especially intense or gory, after yesterday I tried to make this one pretty lighthearted. Honestly I feel like the only really uncomfortable part of this is how much effort I put in trying to make a Pokemon expy. Hehe.

Sorry-not-sorry for more Sin and Bedman, it’s a bit more ‘romantic’ then last time but still pretty much platonic friendship. Enjoy!

Though it felt weird to say, Sin knew his least favorite thing about his father was his charity. Helping out people in need was a good thing, obviously, but a ridiculous amount of his childhood memories involved being dragged along to food banks, hospitals, and shelters so his dad could give corny, well-wishing speeches and lend a hand to those less fortunate, forcing him to help out alongside the other volunteers. Sin had used to wonder if it was because something about having a cute little kid around raised everyone’s morale, or whatever.

Well, considering he was now a grown-ass teenager at the age of sixteen, and Ky was still dragging him along, maybe he’d been off the mark.

At least he’d been allowed to take a break after an hour of schlepping donation boxes up to the children’s wing. Of all the places his dad went to for charity work, hospitals were by far his least favorite. The colorless, sterile atmosphere was just unnerving to be around. As soon as he could, he made a dash for the nearest sign pointing him toward the courtyard.

Sin swiped his guest ID through the maglock, which released with a cheery beep. The white walls and stench of antiseptic gave way to an array of soft colors and the smell of flowers. He took a deep whiff of the aroma and sighed with relief. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handheld, fully charged for when he got a break and could take a minute to loaf off and relax.

Which game had he left in it this time? He popped out the cartridge and smiled. That was right. Pocket Beasts: Light version. His current favorite. He just needed a comfy place to hunker down and play.

A few stone benches were placed in between bushes and flowerbeds, all unoccupied. The place looked really empty, but it made sense. Everyone who wasn’t already busy was probably at Ky’s speech. At least it meant he’d be able to get some peace and quiet and privacy.

He spotted a pretty lavender flower poking out of the bushes and approached. The ‘flower’ moved, making him realize he’d seen wrong. Sin groaned inwardly at the sight of another person, perched on the short stone wall surrounding the flowerbeds. They didn’t glance up, if they’d even noticed him at all, appearing too absorbed in their own handheld device to care about much else.

“H-hey.” He raised a hand at them, and offered a twitchy half-smile. There were so many ways he knew this could go wrong. Sometimes people screamed at him until he fled, or immediately launched into the most boring small-talk possible. Sin just wanted to play his game, he really had no interest in causing any trouble. “Can I sit down?”

Sin braced himself for a response, but he didn’t get one. “Hey?” He tried again, waving harder. Maybe they were deaf? “Is it ok if I sit out here?”

Eyes glanced up at him, but only for a half-second before they returned to the screen. Well, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ so the best he could assume was they just didn’t care.

Hesitantly, he found a place to sit. If the hospital gown and IV hadn’t already given it away, it was pretty clear that he was a patient, not a visitor. He was scrawny and spindly to the point where it was almost disturbing, his skin was pale and sickly, and the messy bedhead was only slightly offset by the awkward purple hair dye. Why was he out here in the first place, instead of at Ky’s speech?

He knew staring was rude, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Every time he tried, there was another odd little detail that caught his attention. A peculiar little hairclip in the shape of a pink arrow. A purple charm bracelet half-hidden by his standard-issue hospital band. Glittery star stickers on the sides of his handheld, and- hey, he recognized that game!

His expression brightened. “Oh, you play Pocket Beasts too? That’s my favorite! Who’s your starter?”

The only response he got was a couple of button clicks. Sin found himself sinking back into an uncomfortable silence. Well, he supposed it was better than being yelled at. He switched his game on.

Dad said he wasn’t supposed to use the internet at the hospital because it would mess with all the fancy machines, so online matches were out of the question. Well, there was always the battle tower. Maybe he could item grind to kill time. He still needed to finish his Soup Encyclopedia and some of the rare cooking items could only be found there.

Any discomfort he had was wiped away with the familiar music and intro screen of the game. How could he worry when there were battles to be won? All he had to worry about was making the most of his free time.

His avatar flickered into existence, still in the last town he’d visited. As soon as he moved towards the nearest building, though, a little indicator popped up on the bottom of the screen. Puzzled, Sin took his stylus and tapped on the icon.

Trainer BEDMAN would like to battle!

>Accept Decline

‘Bedman?’ He looked up at the little avatar that had appeared, then glanced off to the boy at his side. The messy lavender dye-job was surprisingly close, as was the magenta arrow pinning his bangs out of his eyes. Was it just some weird coincidence? If he wanted to play, he could have just asked…

Despite his confusion, Sin clicked ‘Accept.’ PvP battles were more fun than doing the same grind he had done over and over again. Even if he did lose, it was in a totally unique way.

The usual introductory animations played out as their avatars posed and tossed their first beasts into battle. Sin had to snicker at the disparity between their choices. He always liked sending his biggest and toughest beasts out in the beginning, and pretty much anything looked tiny beside it.

But smaller meant faster, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see the other one attack first. He braced himself for a tough starting move...only to be confused at the sight of a sand cloud being thrown at him.

Enemy Used SAND TOSS!

Accuracy Lowered!

Sand toss? What a waste of a turn! Sin grinned as it switched to his turn. Karate chop, a pretty powerful start, it always hit, and he had the type advantage, what a great way to start a match- !

Attack Missed!

“What!? How did that miss!?”

“Karate chop has a standard accuracy of 100%.” A low, quiet voice spoke up next to him, making Sin practically jump back in shock. “But I lowered your accuracy with sand toss, so now there’s a 15% chance it won’t hit.”

“...Huh.” He looked back at his screen. “Never see people use sand toss out of, like, NPC fights.”

“Most players treat accuracy-modifiers as a waste of time, but if you have a Pocket Beast with a high enough defense, then the turns spent not attacking are made up for when the opponent can barely hit you later.” The strange boy had such a casual tone to his voice, as though they’d been conversing for hours already.

It was a bit jarring, but Sin tried to roll with it. “I guess that does make sense. Sorta like when a beast has the ‘Decoy’ ability and the first attack never hits?”

“Kind of. But a lot of players know which beasts can have Decoy, so they know ahead of time to focus on stat-altering moves or poisoning instead of wasting a turn when they know attacking won’t do anything. Take your turn.”

It took him a moment to process the last bit, but he noticed the battle menu had popped up again. He picked another attack. “Why’d you want to battle me? Did you just pick at random?”

“You were the only opponent available.” Another sand toss. “It’s hard to find people to play with on local, and I’m not allowed to use global matchmaking in my room because it needs an internet connection.”

Sin waited for his two-turn charge move to activate, but before it could be his turn, a swift attack managed to knock his beast out cold. “Damn it! I thought I had that…”

He spotted a triumphant little smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Pocket Beasts is all about tactics. You have to take everything into account. It’s easy to just care about how much damage a move can do, but you’re doomed from the start if you don’t have the right stats, or the best moveset to compliment them.”

He couldn’t help but grin along with him. “Wow, you’re really good at strategy!

‘Bedman’ managed a small, awkward smile. “Well, um, not like I have much else to do…”

“Really?” Sin tilted his head. “I guess it’s good you’ve got something fun to do while you’re here, all this hospital stuff skeeves me out. When do they let you go back home? I dunno how long you’ve been here, but I think I’d go nuts after a couple of days.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here a while, already.” A lucky hit from Sin’s beast managed to knock his first one out. “Since...last January, if I remember correctly.”

Last January? Jeez, forget a few days, he was sure he’d be past insanity after a whole year!

Sin donned a look of pity. “That sucks. What’s wrong with you?” The words came out before he could think or realize that it wasn’t an especially nice thing to say. “Uh, shit, sorry-”

“Mmm. It’s okay. At least you don’t mince your words. I have a neurological disorder that affects how my brain processes information. It’s a bit hard to describe. Let’s say a human brain is like a computer, it processes the inputs that are fed into it. Powerful, modern computers can process a lot of information all at once, but if a computer is old, or wasn’t built properly, trying to process too much information can make it overheat and crash.”

“Oh. So how do you keep it from ‘overheating?’”

“Sleep, mostly. I’m only awake for a few hours every day. When I’m awake, and I don’t have tests to do, I like to play games. My sister and I play multiplayer sometimes, but usually I have to play by myself. She has the same problem I do, so a lot of the time one of us is asleep during the times the other’s awake.”

Was it weird to get all this personal information from someone he’d just met? Sin wasn’t sure. But he did like talking to this guy. “Well, want to swap Friend Codes? If we’re registered as friends then local multiplayer should work, then you don’t have to use an internet connection!”

“Where do you live?”

“Central Illyria!” Sin beamed. “Like, half an hour at most. It should still work from there.”

The other boy gave him an odd look. “I’m sure there’s plenty of hospitals closer to you, then. Why did you come out all the way here?”

That got him to roll his eyes, making an exaggerated gagging noise. “My dad. He always drags me along on his charity stuff, carrying boxes and shit. He only let me take a break because he’s making some dumb speech up in the-”

And the regret came just as fast as he saw his companion’s expression shift. He hated the visits, obviously, but he knew it was important to a lot of people. And if someone had been stuck in a hospital for that long, maybe they’d be happy to have someone new come by. He must have come off as such a dick-

Before he could stew on it more, he heard a little laugh. “Yeah. I hate those, too.” Bedman was smiling at him. “You’re Kiske’s kid? That’s got to be awful.”

“Heh. Yeah, it really is.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Never gave you my name, did I? I’m Samson, but everyone just calls me ‘Sin.’”

“I was curious about your name, that does make a bit more logical sense.” His companion nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Sin.”

“Same! What about you? Can’t imagine your name’s really ‘Bedman,’ is it?”

“More of a screen name, really. My name is-”

“Mattie! Dr. Baldy says you’ve gotta have your IV changed!”

They both jumped at the sudden noise, accompanied by the slam of a door. A girl with shaggy blonde hair and familiar features limped into the courtyard, setting her sights on them as soon as she was visible.

“There you are! I just knew you’d be out here.”

“Well, there’s not many other places I could be…” He said. “When did you wake up?”

“‘bout half an hour ago.” She replied. “Just in time for mom and dad to send me out to look for you.”

The girl’s expression changed when she noticed Sin. “Oh! Mattie, who’s this?”

“Sin, this is my twin sister, Delilah.” ‘Mattie’ pointed to her. “Delilah, this is my...new friend.”

“New friend?” Delilah reached out and shook Sin’s hard with a remarkable amount of strength. “Did my baby bro talk your ear off about his favorite game again?”

“You’re only older by nine minutes, Delilah!”

“He’s really good at Pocket Beasts.” Replied Sin. “It was fun playing with him!”

At that, he realized neither of them had selected anything in a while. He looked down at his screen

TIME UP

DRAW

“Aww, maaaaan…”

“Do we have enough time for another match?” Mattie asked.

“Dr. Baldy looked really serious. We probably can’t make him wait that long.” Delilah shook her head.

Sin tried to bring the mood back up. “Well, we were still gonna swap Friend Codes, right? Then we can play whenever! Either of you have something to write with?”

Delilah pulled a thick black sharpie from her sock. “I have a marker! But no paper…”

“Oh! Hold on a sec.” Sin rolled his jacket sleeve up and held out his arm. Just write it on the back!”

The two of them looked hesitant. “Is that safe?”

“It’s totally fine! It’s a little hard to wash off, but that means it won’t smear before I get home!”

Mattie took the marker and began scribbling on his forearm. “You’re really quite strange, Sin.”

“Thanks!” As soon as the wet feeling on his arm went away, he twisted around to see two series of digits.“What’s this other number?”

“Our phone number. If, um, you ever feel like calling.” Despite his attempts to hide it, Sin could see the faint blush to the other boy’s cheeks. “Do you think you could do one more thing very quickly?”

He couldn’t think of what it could have possibly been. “Yeah?”

“Can you draw something on me? I’ve never done it before. I want to see what it’s like.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah! I’ll try and draw something cool real quick!”

Delilah winced. “You know mom and dad are going to kill you, right?”

“Just say it was my idea!” Sin beamed. Mattie flinched the first time he pressed the marker to his skin, but he managed to still draw a straight line. He couldn’t think of anything in particular to draw, so he settled for a series of sharp, criss-crossing black lines circling his forearm. “How’s that?”

“...woah.” Simple as it was, Mattie looked utterly awestruck. “It’s…

“C’mon, Mattie, we’ve gotta go!” Tired of waiting, Delilah all but dragged him off the wall.

“See ya!” Sin waved as they departed. “You’d better bring your A-game next time we battle, I don’t lose easy!” He folded up his game and tucked it into his back pocket. That was probably his cue to leave, too.

As he hopped off the wall, he could make out a faint voice trailing away to the other side of the courtyard.

“Huh? What’s the deal with you, Mattie? You never look that happy!”

Sin smiled as he turned to leave. Ky was probably waiting for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited for the next visit.

Four Hangout: Recap

Oh, man, I know I “owe” this one, so I’m doing it, but I hate it for about 15 different reasons, 14 of those being Ben Winston, which means I’m gonna keep this fairly short. The Four Hangout (lmao, I will never stop laughing at the attempts to team up with Google’s shitty tech) predates my entry into this fandom, so I’m not as on top of every little thing that happened around it (and my god, there were some doozies). I’ve found other posts that do a better job of transcribing some key moments), but I’m sure lots of others are out there, and as ever, I recommend taking 35 minutes to stare at this work of art for yourself.

Whenever I’ve seen gifs from this, the read is that at least two people are coming off a coke bender as we all focus on Ben’s rather ham-fisted attempt to get Louis to admit that he hates people thinking he’s gay. But in rewatching it in full now and knowing more about the context around it, the true vibe is exhaustion mixed with some very real anger/mulishness aimed at management in general and Ben in particular. Because the point of the Four Hangout isn’t to promote Four, the album, but to exonerate the D’s management team, blow smoke up Ben’s ass, and “clear the air” about whatever rumors have been going around that the D’s team doesn’t like, all posed as questions theoretically from the fans, yet weirdly management focused.

I’ve found lots of good blog posts that summarize these 35 or so minutes, but here’s an executive summary of my comments coupled with others I’ve found:

Ben Winston is an insufferable dick

The D is so fucking TIRED at this point, everyone’s low energy, but Louis’s voice is the softest, raspiest, most enchanting thing

They regularly creep on social media and are up on pretty much everything fandom related

There are no rumors they need to dismiss except that they’re currently alive, go on, ask them twice!

Liam is great at delivering the corporate spiel

Harry really did get them sneezes out

The Louis/Ben feud is one thing; the Harry/Ben feud is a whole other

Louis reads fanfic (and has some faves!)

Narry are ride or die WMYB, except for when Harry needs to have a go at Ben

Zayn has somehow made himself look even more godlike

Louis has super cute socks

With that in mind, let’s jump into some key moments, but I’m paraphrasing a lot because it’s so hard to hear over all the cross-talk, asides, and inside jokes. More under the cut!

Shout out to Louis's collarbones and quiff combo...his voice is about to give out, but he’s so OPEN and present for this total shitshow, even when he defiantly refuses to take the path he’s being guided down. Also, please @ god let me play some poker while we enjoy a bacon butty over brunch, his face as Niall introduces Ben as a “very, very good friend of ours” (me as both Ziam and Harry):

One of the most subversive things this band does is effusive praise when they’re pissed off, and never is it clearer than here, when Niall gushes on about all the wonderful work Ben has done for them, and the other boys pick up on it and start whistling and clapping (Louis: “My hero”; Harry: “LOOK AT THOSE TEETH!”) until Ben gets extremely uncomfortable.

We’re off to a good start, with Ben being sure to preface that all of these questions are from the fans, and then Harry asking Ben if he’s wearing makeup (Ben, mildly affronted, “No, I’m not wearing any makeup, but you guys do, you wear a lot of makeup, don't you, Harry” [Harry: “Tons”; Ben: “Well, you need to”]).

The first question is about the difference between this album and their first one, and it’s such a stupid, easy question that I want to answer it for Niall because I can do it in my sleep. Ben then asks Louis if he likes visiting the X Factor, if it reminds him of the old days (you know, four years ago), and AGAIN, this is a dumb-ass question, and Louis’s a pro, so what do you think he’s gonna say? (Of course he likes visiting, it’s lovely to go down and relive it). Is Harry nervous about playing there again tonight? Nope, it’s fun!! He can enjoy it this time around! Simon Cowell doesn’t give him ANY anxiety!!

The next question is about the simplicity of the old days, and my god, does my heart break for Liam saying that they had to work really hard back then, so it’s nice that four years later, they get a few more vacation days. Louis agrees, adding that the first American promo trip was a grind where they did 10 things a day (multiple interviews, signings, radio appearances, rehearsals, and shows)

Ben asks if they ever go back and watch clips of themselves from their early days (this genuinely does seem like a fan ask), and wouldn’t you know, Niall was just chillin’ out last week, rewatching all the video diaries again. Louis admits that his red trousers and braces were loud, but they worked for the time, “Or do you disagree, Ben?” (Ben: “No, I loved it.” Louis: “Thank you.”) And I wish I could travel back in time both so I could kill Hitler AND witness Ben showing up somewhere in a pair of Toms, only to be faced by Louis Tomlinson telling him that he wore that style two years ago, and he wouldn’t anymore, which Ben says cut him down to size (I highly doubt that, but I would have love to see it).

All of this fashion talk is side-winding into a question about who tells them what to wear and whether they have control over their image now. They all note that they wouldn’t have dared to push back in year one, presumably because “experts” were telling them what to do, plus it was all free (which makes all the dragging on their old looks extra fun to watch). Then Ben asks whether they make their own decisions now, and Liam says yeah as Louis smirks, lmaooooo, which morphs into, well, we have much more input than we used to have. I’m here for Harry giving a slow, long-winded answer as a construction project starts up somewhere in the studio, and Louis yells, “Keep it down” into his mic.

Ben, I mean, the fans want to know what piece of advice they’d give the fetus versions of themselves, if they could go back in time, and Louis advises his younger self to have a second glance in the mirror and see if he’s really sure about that particular outfit. (Ben: “Is that…really?” Louis: “No, Ben, I’m just trying to make a joke.”). Liam would fight the haircuts, and Harry would burn the supras (I’m assuming; Louis: “They were outrageous”). Zayn would tell his younger self to have a bit more fun, to try and take it all in and enjoy it more. :(

“The fans” are curious about the negative side of social media, how the D just exploded on YouTube and Twitter after X Factor, and does it ever go too far? Liam channels my inbox and says that people forget there’s a person on the other side of an anon message, that these guys see all the things that are said about them, and they’re self-conscious with cameras and comments, but it’s okay, they put up with it. Louis’s addicted to Twitter, and says that there are negative people there, but you’ll find negative people on every social media platform and in real life, too, it is what it is.

Of course, “the fans” are curious about how all this social media shit affects their girlfriends, and I would kill to hear more about what Narry, the two singles on this couch, keep giggling about in this ridick convo that I’m not even gonna bother to sum up.

Ben’s curious how the fans always manage to leak everything the band does, and yes, Louis, tell us more! How does it make you feel? Liam thinks it’s anticlimactic, Niall’s only beef is when something is leaked a week before it’s out, and everyone else just gets annoyed if it breaks the structure of a rollout, but nobody talks about songs that are leaked that were never meant for official release (cough cough, "Home”), and Harry’s just happy people get a sneak peek and then still buy the album, so all is good. Me as this exchange: Ben, incredulously, “It’s amazing they’re able to constantly do it”; Liam: “Lots of high-tech people out there.”

Probably my favorite part of this is the fanfic discussion, which kicks off with Ben’s “I've noticed, not that I’ve read it, but there's been a lot of fanfiction published about you boys, books published, have you any read it?”

Zayn avoids it at all costs, but Louis’s aware of a fic writer’s book deal (who????) and says that he’s come across some of it on twitter (!!!). He finds some of it utterly bizarre (looking at you, self-inserts), but he’s read some nice little stories, and he’s seen some that go very deep and very, very weird. Liam acknowledges that it’s a whole different world, that he gets the idea of it, of fans putting themselves in situations with them (and Jesus Christ, it kills me that they’ve had to read self-insert wattpad fics), but some of it blows his mind. Niall doesn’t know where to go looking for it, but don’t worry friend, Ben’s gonna hook you up with his favorites! Harry is noticeably quiet during ALL of this.

With a horrible segue, Ben says, “Speaking of things that are made up, what’s the biggest rumor you’ve heard about yourself, this is a question lots of fans are asking” (SURE THING), and Harry never gets enough credit for his dry delivery, such as the way he says, “We’ve all been dead a couple of times.” But Ben can’t let it go, and that’s when Louis does his whole, “No”….dramatic pause (he might be saying “Go,” but the point is, he lets this bit drop where it lands). Zayn jumps in with the rumor that Niall used to be a jockey, and god bless him, honestly.

Ben realizes he’s not getting anywhere with this, so it’s time to move on to the actual album, why is it called Four, etc. It’s not really all that interesting, tbh, nor is the name they didn’t go with as a band (Liam’s dad’s suggestion, which was USP, if you’re curious). Liam figures USP will flourish one day, and this whole section proves how funny Liam actually is. I’m curious about all the One Direction tribute bands they’re mentioning, and I’m totally down to check one out if they’re ever in my area, just fwiw.

Anyway, moving on! What song are they most proud of? Zayn loves “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” and Louis is WAY into “Fireproof,” which Liam’s down with, too. The part that’s interesting gets glossed over because Ben’s an idiot, but they talk about how many songs they’ve written that don’t make it to the album, like, Liam has a tattoo that says “somewhere is a place that nobody knows” from a song we’ll never hear called “Man on a Mission,” and how many others are stored in this vault (23 or 24 were in the final running for this album, where are they)? Harry suggests those songs will be on USP’s first album, and I will absolutely buy it. His story about the Norway bus trip makes me want to dig deep (he was on a party bus in Norway and heard one of their songs, sung by them, that had never been released anywhere, and he was the only one who knew it).

Zayn hints a bit at what happens (voting), and Liam hints at all the meetings, but I would love to know so much more about this process, especially since Niall says that lots of people are in these meetings, with lots of opinions (Simon, label, other managers).

Ben says that another recurring question is about what “Stockholm Syndrome” means, and I love the Alex Turner-esque dodge we get on Harry literally describing what Stockholm Syndrome means, without any real insight into what the song’s about. Still, I live in the awkward that happens right after this drops, with Ben still somehow trying to get them to admit they don’t feel trapped, lmao:

Ben asks about which songs are about specific people, and god, I don’t care because all of this section is lies. Then he tries to get them to talk about songs they don’t like, and they aren’t here for that, like, Liam will say he can’t casually listen to WMYB, but he loves performing it, and the best part of this is Harry saying he’ll crank that song and mouth along, pretending that he’s Niall.

For their favorite songs, Liam goes with “Fireproof,” Louis goes with “Midnight Memories,” Niall goes with “Where Do Broken Hearts Go,” Zayn can’t pick one, and Harry says “Best Song Ever.” Ben likes “Through the Dark” because of course he does, and that’s when the needling from Harry starts about “Gotta Be You,” and I don’t understand, but I live for him on the attack, so geddit, son (also, Niall, with his “your boyfriend’s back, and you’re gonna be in trouble,” etc., YES).

Another question Ben kept getting from fans (got it!) is what would be the one thing they’d change in the past four years, and Louis starts with, “Why would you want to? It’s been great, there’s no point.” Liam agrees, and that’s that. Ben’s next question is what moment they’d relive in the past four years, and Niall says he was really nervous at MSG, although Zayn thinks it was a great gig BECAUSE they were nervous. Nothing’s really happening here, so Ben asks Harry what’s going on with his hair (I guess “the fans” want to know?), and Harry just says it tends to grow, that’s what hair does, and he’s letting it all hang out.

Another “fan” question that makes me laugh from Ben: “Who makes the decisions in One Direction? Is it always your call?” And they all say NO, but Liam jumps in with, “It’s totally us, people ask us now, ultimately we call the shots,” and there’s a LOT of back-chatter here, so draw what you see.

Ben tries to push how much they love the “Night Changes,” video, and AGAIN, Harry gets on his case about “Gotta Be You,” and someone else covers it better than I ever could, but this goading by Harry is wonderful. Ben’s creative process for video concepts is fascinating because he basically admits that it’s easy or it’s really hard (read: he steals it or just throws a shitty idea to a wall to see if it sticks).

Ben asks if they get nervous about people liking the album, and Louis says they care if critics like the album or not, but really, he’s out there on twitter searching different song titles to see the fan reaction. This is also when we learn they aren’t on ye olde social meeds that much anymore, but they all enjoy a good old-fashioned creep session (Zayn especially). Harry’s comment about feeling vulnerable when you release something you’ve been working on for a year feels especially poignant—he gets excited and nervous all at once—and I really don’t get this whole controlled leak promo thing they did for Four, but who am I to question Modest or Syco?? All I want to know is what Niall’s talking about on the side.

The Human Side of No Sports

"Day 4 Without Sports: Looked over across the couch and noticed a strange woman sitting there. Apparently we’re related, along with these two kids running around. Strange. They seem nice though." It’s a variant of a constantly updated meme circulating throughout social media about what sports fans have been doing since athletic competitions from the professional level down to youth sports came to a grinding halt as the battle to contain the coronavirus wages across the country. Sure, they are funny, and for some, might be downright cathartic. But there’s a human element to the canceling of sports, and it’s not just the professional athletes it’s affecting. After all, nearly all of them will be back for another season, whenever sports resume. For high school and college amateur athletes, though, that next chance may never come. Some who are eagerly awaiting the prospect of starting back up spring sports are hoping against hope. Others had their championship dreams dashed right as they were about to reach them. LEDENews wanted to put a human face to this decision and asked four area athletes, three high school seniors and one collegiate athlete, just how they felt when they had a dream, a goal they’d worked for their entire careers suddenly ripped away.

She Was Right There

Danielle Stewart spent her first two collegiate seasons at Notre Dame College in Ohio. The first two seasons, she won the Mountain East Conference’s pole vault title. But following her sophomore season, NDC opted to drop its track program, necessitating a change of scenery for the Strongsville, Ohio native. She found Wheeling University, then still known as Wheeling Jesuit, and made the transfer. While she came up short in the conference meet her junior year, finishing second, Stewart returned atop the podium her senior season, setting multiple PR marks along the way. “It was definitely a change being this far from Strongsville, but I love it,” Stewart said. “It was the best move I could have ever made. I’ve PR’d by over a foot since coming here and I’ve got to experience so many new things. I love the school, my teammates and my coaches.” Another on that list is qualifying for the NCAA Division II Track & Field Indoor Championship Meet. Stewart’s mark of 3.93, her PR to date, at a meet in Youngstown earned her the qualifying mark. She equaled that mark later in capturing the MEC title. Stewart was pumped when she learned of her automatic qualification. After all, she and another athlete each finished with the same height, 20th best, last season. They took her and left Stewart at home.  “I had to hit a big height this year to guarantee my spot,” Stewart said. “Hitting 3.93 felt like a dream. Honestly, I was in shock. I could not stop smiling and hugging my teammates and coaches. Honestly, it was one of the best moments of my life.”

In Shock

One of the best moments that sadly, gave one to one of the worst. Stewart and head coach Patrick Stanton had been in Alabama two days when the decision was handed down. She had a good two days of practice and was ready to take on her competitors. “I honestly had just had the best vault practice of my life,” Stewart said. “The head coach and I were out to lunch when he got the email. I did not believe him at first. I had to call my pole vault coach and tell him not to get on the plane and fly down. I just sat there in shock but when my vault coach called, I bawled. After what happened last indoor season, I was so ready to prove myself.” Stewart had thought of the possibilities prior to the announcement, but already being there, she figured the meet would go on, just without spectators. Her parents were already told not to travel down.  She definitely has some unfinished business and goals to achieve. Fortunately, the NCAA has given spring sports athletes another season of eligibility. So, if the credits and financials work out, Stewart plans to be back. “I am happy I qualified for nationals, but I do not feel like I finished my goal of becoming an All-American,” Stewart said. “And my goal ever since I started vaulting was to clear four meters and so that is another reason I feel I am not finished. “We were allowed to take practice jumps at the facility (in Alabama) and I cleared a 4-meter bungee.”

Kiersten Kesselring (15) is Fort Frye's lone senior and is a four-year starter at center.

Lone Senior’s Last Chance

Getting to the final four in Ohio is a monumentally difficult task. The Fort Frye girls program, in all its storied history, had only done it once. That’s until this season, when the Cadets knocked off No. 2 Portsmouth Notre Dame in a Division IV regional final, 49-31, to advance to Columbus.  Always in the hunt, Fort Frye fell to Shadyside last season in the district finals as it was the Lady Tigers who advanced to the Final Four. The previous two seasons, the Cadets’ demise came in the district semifinal round. But not this season. Something about this season’s team clicked early. “The entire year felt like this was our year as a team” said Kiersten Kesselring, a four-year starter at center and the team’s lone senior. “Even from the beginning, this year felt different … We just play so well and strong together and are extremely close.” Kesselring would know. She’d been around for the previous years’ narrow losses in 2019 and 18, and the blowout loss to Hiland her freshman season. So that family feel she picked up early this fall during preseason camp gave her the feeling like this could be there year. “Our team is definitely a family,” Kesselring said. “We are all close and care about one another. None of us are selfish and we can all score.”

Should Have

The stats attest to that statement. Fort Frye had multiple players average double figures, but not even leading scorer Hannah Archer averaged better than 15. You won’t find any Cadets on the all-Ohio first or second team. But you will find them at St. John Arena. Or, that is to say, you would have … should have. “It was definitely a shock and no one was prepared for it,” Kesselring admitted when she and her teammates learned the game would be postponed. “We are still shook up about it and not knowing if we’ll ever get to play together again or not is hard. I’m devastated by the fact I could’ve played my last game as a Lady Cadet and didn’t even know it.” The OHSAA has a press conference scheduled for noon Thursday when the fate of the Cadets, and many teams like them in basketball and wrestling across Ohio, will likely be decided. Given the continued efforts to quarantine the public from one another in effort to slow the spread of COVID-19, the upcoming presser is ominous.  “This was our year to make history and have the opportunity right in front of us to make the finals; to do it for the community, our families and coaches,” Kesselring said. “These games meant so much to us and it’s a heartbreaking feeling to have them just taken away. My heart goes out to all the other teams and athletes going through the same feelings we are right now.”

Alex Vargo is pictured with head coach Michael Jebbia, receiving a plaque for breaking the school record for most points in a game with 53.

Ending a Lengthy Drought

Wheeling Park is one of the more tradition-rich boys’ basketball programs in the Ohio Valley, and in West Virginia with multiple state championships. Yet the school had hit a bit of a snag in state tournament appearances on the boys’ side, not having been to Charleston since the 20-plus win season of 2011-2012. That changed this season when senior all-state Alex Vargo canned a mid-range stepback in the waning seconds against Morgantown, followed by a steal from junior D.J. Saunders to seal the game and end the drought. Or at least it should have. “Winning the regional game was definitely the best moment in my four years as a Patriot,” Vargo said. “I’ve never had the chance to play in the state tournament so winning regionals was and always has been my main goal. Finally accomplishing that was the best feeling ever.” Like many others across the state, that feeling quickly changed. First the NBA announced the suspension of its regular season, followed by the NCAA opting for fan-less tournament games and ultimately a cancellation of March Madness.

Canceled

“I found out an hour before practice,” Vargo recalled. “I saw it on Twitter and then everyone starting sending me the news through text. When the NBA and NCAA started canceling their games and tournaments, I figured ours would be canceled too. I was angry when I first found out. My teammates and I’s hard work was taken away.” Vargo noted that Morgantown had been a thorn in the Patriots’ side throughout his career, including a humbling defeat at the Palace on the Hill to those same Mohigans prior to the start of the sectional tournament. But Vargo and his teammates ultimately got the job done when it mattered.  “Being on the other side of that felt great,” Vargo said of the win. “I was shocked/angry/sad the whole day after finding out because I know this year’s team is special and could’ve made some serious noise down at the tournament. But I still have hope and I’m going to continue to work hard every day as if it’s being played next week.”

St. Clairsville's Derek Witsberger is shown atop the podium at the Jimmy Wood Invitational earlier this season.

Finally His Time

St. Clairsville Derek Witzberger is a fun loving guy, but when he’s on the field or on the mat, he’s all business. Once football season turned to wrestling, Witsberger’s singular focus was finally getting over the hump and qualifying for the state meet. He’d came close in the past, placing fifth as a junior at 195. He qualified but failed to place as a sophomore. Wisberger narrowly missed finishing as District Champion, losing a tough 5-4 decision to River View’s Dalton Cunningham in the semifinals. Cunningham went on to win by technical fall in the finals. Witsberger, meanwhile, secured his third-place finish with a pin. Now was his time. Finally. “I was more prepared and hungry than excited,”Witsberger said of qualifying for the state meet. “I put my whole heart into one goal and when it became postponed, it broke my heart. We were almost ready to lead and head to Columbus when I found out.”

It Came True

Witsberger is the team captain and is the lone St. Clairsville senior to qualify for states. His win total is fourth in the school’s history. He placed at OVAC’s twice, finishing runner-up this season and fourth as a junior. He was ready to go for that state medal. He admitted he began to worry about it being canceled as news kept rolling but still, it took a bit to sink in. “When everything began getting canceled and postponed, I started to worry but it never resonated with me until it actually became true,” Witsberger said. “It’s still too early because I feel like I have some unfinished business left to prove.” While Witsberger’s wrestling days may be over, depending on Thursday’s announcement, his athletic career is not. He earlier signed on to continue his football career at Marietta College in the Ohio Athletic Conference, joining a large incoming recruiting class of some of the OVAC’s best. But is he holding out hope for Thursday? “It’s already been done and in three weeks, everyone will either be way overweight or completely out of wrestling shape,” Witsberger lamented. “It’s very difficult to get into wrestling shape and compete at a high level.” Read the full article

Fredericksburg Feels

Well I don’t really know where to start. Not just this post, but start this blog. I’ve had it a month and have been putting off writing in it every day. I’m not the best writer, but the only way to get better is to do it more so here I am. I was waiting for a good idea to pop in my head, so I could make a splash and hit the ground running. It didn’t happen.

What did happen was i got on Facebook today and saw some shitty news. Not the normal shitty news that affects the nation like a hurricane, a school shooting, or an election, but the kind of shitty news that affects a select few. The news I read was Liberty Center in Fredericksburg, VA has been sold and will be closing down January 1st 2018. 

Now you might want to know why a bowling alley located in a city two hours away from me closing is a big deal. Well the thing is that above that bowling alley, tucked away behind closed doors is Liberty Laughs comedy club. Yes that’s right comedy above a bowling alley. 

I love that room. I really do. It’s a real club. That feels like it was plucked right out of the 1980′s. Just a well kept secret above a bowling alley like some kind of white trash Anne Frank. Where instead of writing a journal she’s writing a setlist of dick jokes to try to win over drunk townies on a Friday night with nowhere else to go.

My first set there was for a contest. I had been doing comedy all of 2 months and was asked by Kenny Wingle to come up and be a part of it because he was desperate (i’m projecting but yea I’m going to go with desperate). I hadn’t met a ton of comics at this point because I didn’t live in the city and was new. It is 5 minutes before showtime and 2 people are there. A young couple on a date (she was dressed way too nice to be there). Kenny asked us if we wanted to all split the prize money and still compete but have fun. We all agreed. Right after that people started to filter in and we finished with about 15 to 20 people who were there for comedy. 

Now it doesn’t matter who won the contest (I know who did), and it doesn’t matter what terrible FB/Dating jokes I did (I still do them). What matters is this. That was the night I met people who are great comics and even better friends. That was the night I met Brandon Beswick (who is a great comic and whomade my website winstonhodges.com), Travis Carl (a dope comic who runs Clash at the Virginia Beach FunnyBone), Kenny Wingle (a super dope dude, funny guy, and all around super fun hang), and others (Brandon Moore, Jody Allen, Troy Robinson) After the show they had an open mic so we even got to go up IN A CLUB and eat a dick twice in one night. A YOUNG COMIC’S DREAMMMMM!!!!

The next time I performed there I was asked last minute by Kenny Wingle (starting to see a pattern) if I could do 10 minutes opening for Chris Keyser (a really great guy) at his dvd release. Chris was doing booking there at the time and the release was a great show. Chris gave me a copy of his dvd for free (he overcharged me), and was very complimentary. He told me he had to get me in soon and we were going to line some stuff up. I was on top of the world.

Chris quit shortly after that.

I wouldn’t perform there for a long time afterwards. Not until Troy Robinson (generous dude, and a great booker) reached out and started giving me spots. I got to open for some dope people and got to have my first feature set in a club there because of him and I won’t ever forget that.  

Not all comedy memories are great memories. I had the single worst set of my life at Liberty Laughs. I stand by that to this day. I have never bombed harder in my life and I don’t know if it is even possible to. 

The new dude doing booking Bryan Siegel had a message out that he was looking for younger comics to come and audition to see if they’d be a good fit for some hosting work. So I signed up. The week of the showcase I got a sinus infection and thought about not going. I could barely standup or breathe but I figured my stage health would kick in and I’ll be set. So the day of I road up with my friend Paige Campbell (so damn funny) ready to murder. I assumed this would be a typical showcase, where everybody does 7 to 10 in front of a paying audience to get a good gauge of where we were as comics. 

I WAS FUCKING WRONG.

It was me and the other 10 comics from Richmond/Charlottesville area in a huge room doing our sets just for Bryan. That’s right 10 comics doing our “best” 5 minutes in front of a room of people who were not only competing with for stage time, but also had heard our “best” 5 minutes 100 times at this point. 

“But he at least sat in the front and paid close attention to the idiosyncrasies of yall’s comedy right?” 

FUCK NO

He sat in the back and played what I can only assume to be candy crush as we each went up and bombed. I went like 8th, and it felt like for the previous hour I had just been watching all of my friends get executed one by one. Like a conveyor belt but instead of assembling parts, it was dissembling dreams.

I go up and proceed to sweat/flounder/die on stage for 7 minutes. Praying for a small light from Bryan’s cell phone. The only thing I heard over the deafening silence was Bryan ordering chicken tenders from the poor waiter who had to work that shift anyway.

The last person to go up is my mentor Chris Alan (everything he does is great). Mentor is a weird word but it is what it is. I was less than a year in and Chris who has been doing it almost a decade took the time to not only answer questions and give critiques but actually look out for me and be a real friend. I will never forget that (unless I get bigger than him, then yea I’ll forget that). 

I watched Chris murder for 10 minutes. he did one joke after 9 minutes of shitting on the situation we were all in. Chris did some other things that night that I respect more than anything but won’t post on here. He's a great comic and a real pro.

After the show Chris told me, “Shit like this doesn’t matter, you were set up to fail. So fuck it.” He was right and it shifted my approach to material/crowd work ever since.

The shows since then I’ve gotten thanks to Troy Robinson have all been super fun. I have grown as a comic because of that club. This is an audience that doesn’t want to be preached to, or want to know how smart you are. They live in fucking Fredericksburg they just want to laugh. So that’s what I aimed for every time. I just wanted people to laugh. This is a great workout room, to cut your teeth, grind it out, and see if you’re cut out to work a club.

I have on more show there. I didn’t know it’d be my last. It is Friday December 22nd at 8 pm. If you’ve made it this far I hope you come out to it. It’s going to be bittersweet. I’m on the show with some of my best friends and funniest people I know Von Michael (757 by way of 804 comic) Keith Marcell (beast on stage) and Dylan Vattelana (hard working comic who is finally out on the road where he belongs). 

It will be a bittersweet night, but I’m glad I get one last set to say goodbye to the stage where I got to feature first, and where I ate the fattest dick of all time on. Liberty Laughs you will not be forgotten. 

Seize the Day (or Night) Part 1

Title: Seize the Day (or Night) Part 1

Author: @sea040561

Beta’d by: @sofreddie (Thank you again!!!)

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Summary: Jared finally has the courage to reveal how he feels

Word Count: 7178 for both parts (I couldn’t seem to stop with this one lol)

Warnings: verbal abuse, angst, crying, pregnancy

Author’s Note: For @gone-to-fight-the-fairies writing challenge - Supernatural's Summer of Heroes Challenge. My quote was “When are we going to talk about this unspoken thing between us?” - Peter Quill - Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2

It was mid-September and Supernatural was currently filming Episode 12 of Season 13. Y/N stood to the side and watched Jared, Jensen, and Misha interact together as Sam, Dean, and Cas. You knew Episode 12 was the most intense episode of what they had filmed for Season 13 so far. With the exception of Episode 1, this episode was filled with so much fear, anguish, and distress.

Glancing at Jared, your thoughts reflected on the grief, agony, and misery you had been feeling when you returned to set for Season 13. You were Head Chef of craft services for the set. Over the last few years, you had learned which foods cast members preferred and which foods they were allergic to as well as turn the cast and crew into guinea pigs for new recipes you dreamed up. Before hiatus had begun, you decided you were going to take cooking class over the course of two nights a week, for a total of six weeks.

Because the class and the homework you were assigned took up a lot of your time, your boyfriend, Hunter, had become angry. He felt that you were ignoring him in favor of “feeding those douchebag actors on that moronic tv show”. Before the class, you had expressed to him, in excitement, that you wanted to learn some new recipes to cook for the set. He didn’t quite agree with you. After the third time he showed up at your house unannounced, he had found you cooking, again! The first two times you were also cooking. He made a split decision to break up with you, yelling at you that you had to have gained at least 50 lbs in the last year that you had been dating. All because of the “asinine cooking”, in his words.

Y/N y/e/c teared up as a knot formed in your throat as you continued to remember the break-up. You quickly brushed away the slowly forming tears in your eyes as memories flooded your mind. No one on set had known you had a boyfriend. Hunter didn’t bother ever visiting you on set and you never bothered telling anyone about him. It was easier that way because the relationships never worked out. In fact, all of your boyfriends initiated the break-ups in each relationship. All of your exes had claimed the same reason - that you were too fat, despite the fact that you were fat when they met you. Contrary to popular stereotypical belief, you had, in fact, not gained more than 10 to 15 lbs in the last 5 years. Sighing, you softly chuckled to yourself as you proceed back to Craft Services to start the preparations for the next meal.

Jared quickly glanced up spying Y/N walking back to Craft Services. He was waiting for a scene reset for the next take and noticed you leaning against the farthest wall. Jared had determined that when you needed to relax, watching a scene being shot did it best. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought back to the filming the first episode of the season. For most of the day, you had been watching filming. Several times, he caught you looking at your phone with a sad look on your face. He noticed you frequently rubbed your eyes. At first he thought that something in the air was irritating your allergies but then Jared realized every time you rubbed your eyes it had been after you were looking at your phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N had been working at Craft Services since Season 9.

Jared loved your enthusiasm for cooking. For discovering new recipes to experiment with. The happiness it brought. Both to Y/N and the cast and crew.

Jared was greeted each morning with your wonderful, sunny disposition as his groggy ass dragged himself to get coffee. He was actually worse in the morning before he drank his coffee, not Jensen. The fact that you make a mean cup of joe as well as tasty morning donuts is what kept him alive.

Over the years, the cast and crew became a close knit tight family. Hiatuses were spent grilling, swimming, jet-skiing, laughing, dancing, and going on family vacations. The activities were endless.

As Jared was able to spend more time with you, he realized that you were a stubborn, fierce-loving woman. That you would stand up for your point of view without degrading anyone else’s. That you would defend your friends no matter what. That you didn’t tolerate racism, prejudice, and bigotry in any way, shape or form.

But ultimately, you were an excellent support system for your sister who suffered from bi-polar disorder.

That statement right there is when Jared had realized he had fallen in love with you. He never once questioned the validity of his love. Y/N knew that Jared suffered from clinical depression and severe anxiety. You never treated him with kid gloves. That is what he really liked about you. Because it was familiar territory for you, you could understood how difficult times could be.

Now, Jared’s heart is hurting as he watches the resigned look on Y/N’s face as you leaned against the wall watching them film. He knew something was going on and he didn’t like it at all.

Jensen had urged Jared to tell you about his feelings. Jensen had long ago developed suspicions about your private dating life. Even though you never expressed it, he knew the constant comments about your weight affected you. Only someone like Jensen, who had perfected the “everything is totally fine” look, couldn’t miss the miniscule flinch in your eyes and the grinding of your teeth. He had never discussed any of this with Jared because he was almost positive that Jared was just as observant.

As Jared remembered his conversation with Jensen, he made the spontaneous decision to take the bull by the horns and change his destiny.

“Do you think we can take a five minute break?” Jared asked Jensen apprehensively.

“Why?” Jen questioned as he followed Jared’s gaze. He realized that Jared was watching Y/N walk back to Craft Services.

“I know you can see it. Something is going on with Y/N. Have you noticed how out of sorts and sad she has been over the past few weeks?” Jared answered.

Jensen hesitated in answering him but then quickly nodded his head affirmatively.

“I want to go over and talk with her,” Jared proceeded, “I’m determined to find out what is going on. She is usually so bubbly and happy. Always has a kind word for everyone.”

Jensen patted Jared on the back, “I’ll make sure we get a ten minute break. You go talk to Y/N.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You glanced up as you could see movement out of the corner of your eye. Your heart started to pound as you spied Jared walking towards you. You could see the look of concern on his face. Immediately, your mind started to race wondering if you had done something wrong. You took a deep breath as you steeled yourself for the onslaught of what was known as Moose. Every time you talked with Jay, you had to put steel walls around your heart so you never let it known that you were crushing on Jared. If you can even call it that when you are an adult, and not a teenager. Knowing that it wasn’t a probability that Jared wanted to go on a date with you, you continued to look for the next best thing. Except they were all duds. You wondered why you tortured yourself with going out with these men who never appreciated the wonderful person that Jared said you were.

You smiled brightly as Jay stopped in front of you, “Hey, Jared, how’s filming today?”

“It is going well. Jen and I seem to be nailing each scene on the first take. So we would probably be done early today,” He responded.

“Well, that is good to hear,” you said as you smiled up at Jared, “So what are you going to do since you will have an evening to yourself?”

Jared looked at you searching your eyes for the sadness he had seen there earlier. To his surprise, he realized that you were smiling and happy while talking to him. There was no sign of your earlier sadness. He continued to map your face with his eyes gauging your emotions.

“Well, I wanted to invite you over for some pizza and movies since we both have off tomorrow,” He stated as he smiled brightly.

“Oh,” you replied, “With Jensen and Misha too?” There was no way he would invite you over by yourself so you just assumed Jen and Mish were invited as well. You know that they usually do a poker night with the guys working on the set.

Jared stuttered unexpectedly, scaring himself in the process. After he cleared his throat, he began to talk, “No, Jen and Mish have plans with their wives tonight.” lying easily.

“Oh, Dani and Vicki are in town?” You inquired.

“Uh, yes,” Jay replied, “but just for one night.” Considering how nervous he was, Jared was surprised he was able to lie with ease. Jared watched as you contemplated his offer.

“Can I pick the movie?” You pleaded. You didn’t know how you were going to do this. Just being alone with Jared, while on set, was jarring enough but you had no idea how you’d feel once you were in his house watching movies and eating pizza. You figured you had nothing to lose. Once Jared sees you wolfing down the pizza, he will realize what a fat-ass you are. He will question why he even bothered hanging out with you. Besides romantic relationships, your friendships often ended in same way. People seemed to always get tired of your constant need for reassurance. That you were too much to handle, both figuratively and physically.

Jared watched the emotions flitting across your face. He had hoped you would say yes. He was surprised that you asked if you could pick the movie. How could he say no to that, “Most definitely! I have a ton of movies at home, plus On Demand. You can even go to Redbox to rent something else.”

You smiled joyfully as you heard Jared agree that you could pick the movie tonight. Now you just had to think of the right one to choose.

“Bring some pjs and clothes for tomorrow in case you are too tired to drive home tonight. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” Jared said.

Your E/C eyes widened in shock then narrowed as you searched Jared’s face. There was no way he was interested in you. NO FUCKING WAY but Jay’s next words stupefied you.

“When we are going to talk about this unspoken thing between us?” Jared asked. Before you could address him, he replied, “Tonight,” as he pivoted on his heel and ran back to set not giving you a chance to respond.

You knew with the end of the day shoots and cleaning up the craft services area that you wouldn’t be talking to Jared the rest of the day.

Jensen walked by quickly, snagging a coffee, as he proceeded to set, “Y/N, are you okay?” He noticed you looked a little stunned. He suspected it was from Jared’s conversation with you. He had to keep the smirk off his face or you would question him.

You sighed deeply, “Yeah, Jen. I just need to figure some things out. No big deal.”

“Well, if you ever need to talk, you know I am here for you,” Jen offered as he lightly squeezed your shoulder in reassurance.

Before you could comprehend, Jensen was out of your line of sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you stood in front of your closet, you contemplated what to wear. Was this a date? Or was it just friendship? ‘Nah, it definitely isn’t a date,’ you thought to yourself. Jared was just taking pity on you. Everyone probably thought you never dated because you never mentioned anything to anyone on set. Once in awhile, you did go out with the cast to loosen up a little bit but not much since most of your boyfriends, especially Hunter, forbade you. You feigned exhaustion most of the time. Your days on set were just as long as the boys’.

Reaching for your sleeveless black and white summer dress, you slipped it on and slid your feet into a pair of your flip flops. You applied minimal makeup - eyeliner and mascara - and spritzed yourself with body spray. You laughed to yourself wondering why you were even bothering. Most of the men you had dated never noticed the effort you put forward to look beautiful, if you could call yourself that. But with the slow help of your therapist, psychiatrist, and the appropriate medications, you were gradually trying to change the way you think about yourself and your relationships with others. It was an uphill battle but you were determined.

Taking a final deep breath, you grabbed the wine you had bought, your purse, your duffle bag and started the journey to Jared’s house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jared smiled as he fluffed - yes, fluffed - his hair as he stared into the mirror. He was determined to find out what was going with Y/N. He had known Y/N for a little over four years, but started developing feelings for her about two years ago. He had been hesitant to reveal his feelings for Y/N because she never gave any indication of reciprocating them. The least he could do was extend his friendship to her.  A person would have to be blind not to see that something was going on with Y/N.

However, he hoped this night would end up the way he always dreamed - with her in his arms and her lips on his.

Jared grabbed his newest Pearl Jam tee shirt and slipped it over his head. He then slid on a brand new pair of lounge pants.

He figured he would wait to order the pizza when Y/N arrived so he proceeded to the living room where his two dogs, Arlo and Paige, were sleeping. He knew that Y/N loved dogs so he wasn’t worried about how the dogs would react when Y/N arrived. Besides, she had already met his babies several times before.

Jared glanced at the clock realizing that Y/N would be here in a couple of minutes. He nervously bounced his knee up and down while running his fingers through his hair. God, was he so nervous. He was never this nervous with Sandy, his ex-girlfriend. She never made him feel the things that Y/N does.

Hearing the slam of a car door, Jared’s head jerked up. He heard the soft knock on his front door. Swallowing deeply, he sighed and stood up to open the front door.

Y/N stood in front of him in an amazing black and white summer dress that, in his opinion, hugged all her curves in the right places. One thing that Jared loved about you is that you were a curvy, voluptuous woman. You looked up at Jared with a large smile on your face, “Hi, Jar, I brought some wine” as you held up the bottle you were carrying.

Opening the door wider, Jared stepped to the side to let you in his house. He could see that you were carrying a small duffle bag like he had suggested. Arlo and Paige immediately greeted you with wagging tails. After giving them some scratches and kisses, you ordered them to their doggie beds, missing the look on Jared’s face. Oh how he wished you greeted him in the same way you greeted his babies.

“Ready for some fun,” Jared inquired as he gave you one of his signature Padalecki grins. He practically squeezed the life out of you but you didn’t mind. Anything to stay wrapped in his arms was a bonus. You felt a loss of feeling as Jared pulled away.

“I’m going to put this back in the fridge,” Jared said as he began to walk away, “you get comfortable on the couch. Figure out what you would like on your pizza while I grab some drinks and plates.”

You almost blushed as Jared suggested getting comfortable on the couch. Oh how you’d love to get very comfortable with him, on the couch, or the bed, even the floor. Hell, the kitchen counter even.

Slipping your shoes off, you tucked your feet under you and leaned back into the soft, plush couch sighing. ‘Maybe you will get the courage to tell Jared how you feel tonight,’ you thought to yourself.

Untitled

I think the word rape makes a majority of people very uncomfortable which is weird considering it’s happened to so many. think the word rape makes a majority of people very uncomfortable which is weird considering it happens all the time. A large percentage of my friends, male and female, have experienced sexual assault, harassment, or rape to some degree. I never refer to what happened to me as rape. I know at the end of the day, in it’s simplest form, that’s what it is. But I was raised and conditioned to think of rape as something violent, something that happens to you by a stranger, something that happens once, something that if it happens you immediately know that you were raped. But for me, it was a friend, someone that I’ve known since I was twelve, someone I worked with everyday, someone that knew my family and my friends, and something that was ongoing. It’s been about 2 years since it started and it and he are still the last things I think about before I fall asleep and are the first thoughts in my mind when I wake up. Granted, since moving away from the town and the people, it doesn’t infest my mind as consistently as it used to. But after a Facebook post that slightly referred to it, bringing many friends and even strangers opinions to light, it’s all I can focus on. So if you’re taking the time out of your day to read this (family, friends, strangers, whatever), Hi, my name is Jade McGee and when I was sixteen years old I was sexually and emotionally abused for about 4 months by a 37 year old man. I’m here to discussed what happened, how it affected me, and the people around me. To make it clear, I believe he and I had two completely different experiences of what happened, this is in no way me speaking for him or trying to slander him, just speaking from my viewpoint of what happened and how it continued to affect me.

I would describe 15/16 year old Jade as someone with a high level of social anxiety that hadn’t really found herself as a person yet and felt like a shell of a human being. I didn’t have too many friends in high school and my one and only boyfriend was in 7th grade who I soon broke up with at a winter formal because I didn’t want to slow dance with him. During my junior year I switched to online school because all of my friends were adults and I didn’t click well with anyone my age. I met him when I was in 7th grade but didn’t become closer with him until fall of my junior year. We were friends, we got along well, I did and still do care about him as a human being. But he did start to initiate the fact that he had more sexual feelings for me that I tried to brush off or ignore because he was one of my closer friends at the time. The relationship didn’t start to shift until we started working on a show together, it started small with him kissing me backstage trying to mask it by then kissing the other people around(no I don’t understand that logic but I honestly completely forgot about that tidbit until I started writing), then to him sticking his hand down my pants in the alley when he went out for a smoke, to him calling me up to his office to bring him coffee and instead him shutting the door and locking it behind him, and then to me staying at his house for days at a time bouncing between going to work with him and then back to his house. This went on for four months. I’ll spare the details of what happened each time due to the fact that I’m beyond sick of describing it in a prim and proper way, but to give a general idea, it was not violent, or physically abusive in anyway. I know he deeply cared about me to the point of obsession, I was an object to him, I was “his”. He got furious every time he saw me talking to a male friend. Wanted me to go to the college near by so we could buy a house and live there together. Every time it happened all of the actions were either performed on me or he basically used me as a puppet to preform actions on him. Yes, I know the million dollar question is “If you didn’t want it to happen, why return, why not say anything to him or anyone else?” And my answer is that that sixteen year old girl had the same questions flying around in her brain. At the time it was happening I didn’t realize what was going on. I always thought “well next time it won’t happen” but every “next time” it still happened. While it was happening I was paralyzed, I couldn’t move and my mind left my body and it was like I was just watching.  It kills me that the people around me had some idea that something was going on and didn’t do anything about it, or thought that I would willingly participate in the situation. I wasn’t flung into reality until the night of his roast that was thrown on his birthday to raise money for a friend. Where every other joke towards him was about his obsession of younger girls. And the audience would laugh. And he would laugh. But for me it was a realization of “he has done this exact thing with other girls my age”. That night we went to a bar across the street to continue celebrating, he was a few too many drinks in and was extremely touchy and possessive with me. The people I was around noticed and only talked among themselves about it while I sat there internally screaming “You all see what’s happening, so why aren’t you doing anything about it?” After that night I cut off all communication with him. To pull yourself out of any sort of sexual assault/harassment  situation is extremely difficult. How many times have you stood up to the guy/girl cat calling you from across the street? Do you ever say anything to the creepy guy/girl at the bar or party that won’t leave you alone? It’s not easy in any capacity or on any level to try to remove yourself without any help. Ignoring him was relatively difficult considering I still saw him everyday and he still tried stay in touch with me. Ignoring him went hand and hand with ignoring what happened. Which only works for so long until keeping it to yourself and telling no one else starts to eat away at you. For me I tried to ignore it by detaching myself from friends, distracting myself with self harm, eating too little, eating too much, and a last resort of almost taking my life because at the time what had happened was my only world and I saw no way out of it. A few days after that incident I decided it was time to tell my best friend about it. I was still in denial about everything and told her what happened in a text message because talking about it out loud made it too real. But immediately upon telling her things got better, she went above and beyond to find me help and give me different options on how I could move forward. I very slowly started to tell more friends about it until I told a friend that had the response of “The same thing happened to me with the same person.” and I started stumbling upon more people that experienced similar occurrences with the same person. This infuriated me, mostly because I couldn’t believe that the person that went through it prior to me didn’t speak up because if she would have it wouldn’t have happened to me. But that also made me realize that I could not let this get swept under the rug again.

It took me 7 months after I stopped speaking to him to go to a higher authority with what happened. My final push was when I decided to start speaking to him again. Mostly because I thought that I just imagined everything and maybe he wasn’t as bad as everyone had kept reiterating to me. But turns out people don’t change, I told him exactly how what happened made me feel and that It wasn’t mutual. At first he was concerned about but after the initial time I told him he continued to pretended as if nothing happened and every time I brought it up again he wouldn’t answer me or he brushed it off. So the night before I went to an authoritative figure I texted him and told him that those were my intentions. That’s the last time I’ve had any contact with him. After telling my place of work they had suspended him and then went into a month long investigation where at least twice a week I was meeting with lawyers, social, workers, detectives, and judges. For me, this was the worst, most dehumanizing part of it all. Each meeting I had to tell the same story in full exploited detail to strangers, mostly men, that for purposes of their job had to really grind at the story and had to act at an angle of not believing what I said. I felt like a record player. To this day I’ve detached myself so far from the situation that when I talk about it I forget I’m talking about myself and that these events actually happened to me. I haven’t been able to discuss it on an emotional scale since because the left side of my brain has completely repressed the right side to protect myself from the emotional side of it. After a month of hell he was fired. I’ve heard rumor of what he’s doing now and what he’s told people but considering I haven’t seen it for myself, I have no reason to believe it.

I can count on both hands the number of people that I have personally told about it and yet everyone still knows. I’m sorry to the friends that had to hear it from someone else and I wish it had come from me. I last saw him this past summer from the inside of a car and had a full mental breakdown because I remembered that it and he were real and hundreds of repressed memories had resurfaced. I hate going anywhere in that town alone because I don’t know what I would do if I came face to face with him again. I thank the people who took the position of believing me and stand by me to this day. To the people that don’t believe me or to the strangers that hate me, even though you’ve never met me, who think Im lying for attention, I completely understand that the adolescent in these scenarios are not always innocent, but he was still the adult by 21 years, with repetitive cases of sexual assault by many other underaged girls giving me the reason to remove him from the establishment that introduced him to all the people he hurt.  I can’t help what you’ve been told but I can tell you I wish this never happened. I don’t want the attention that comes with it. I don’t want my friends talking about it with one another when I’m not around. For months it was the only thing people talked to me about. The only thing people saw or could think about when they looked at me. I wish I was lying. I wish he wasn’t raised to behave this way. I wish it didn’t have a say in all my actions. I wish I didn’t shutter whenever someone touches me. But the world is a nasty place with nasty people. I hope speaking out about what happened to me helps someone, because that’s the only way I know how to contribute to this constant situation on local and higher levels of society. I’m always open to discussing it more to those that want and I will always be a person that someone can talk to. If you’ve experienced something similar. You are not alone in any capacity. Be proud of yourself and let getting through it empower you. For everyone in-between, know that just because a person does not say “no” doesn’t mean they consent and be mindful that everybody lies. Thank you for reading, feel free to share, comment on, or completely ignore this.

- Jade

Thrill of the Hunt

Hey everyone, I just want to get some of my thoughts down onto the page. This is mostly just me rambling my thoughts on the current state of OP and Competitive Magic in general. Disclaimer: I have been a lifelong competitive player. My first games of magic were FNM booster drafts 15+ years ago against some unbelievable competition. From day 1 I was drawn in to the fierce competition in the game. I know that I am privileged; Undeniably lucky and advantaged in every way before I even get in the que. I’m a white cis male who grew up middle class in the US with supportive parents. I was able to spend my free time cutting my teeth on Magic Online and traveling to local PTQs/GPs. But this post is not going to be about where you are from; or what challenges you may face personally; or what hurdles your demographic have had to overcome. All of that stuff is completely true and valid. I will touch on it lightly, and I am happy that things are being done to address some of those issues in Magic. That being said; This is going to be solely about the drive for fair competition that burns inside of every single one of us. Inside every single person reading this; Every person that has played this game for probably half of their life or more. For every person that has spent 1000s of waking and/or dreaming hours thinking about decklists, new formats, new ideas, old formats, old theory, new theory; All the while completely forgetting that their is any life outside of competitive Magic The Gathering. For every person that plays this game in search of something they can’t really define. It’s not exactly the validation of self improvement; or the highs of the good finishes. Or even the good times with friends and all the learning we get to do along the way. It’s simply the constant burning desire for competition. Going into battle against a sea of villains who are all fighting for the same thing you are. That upper hand in this ruthless game of marginal edges. I was never part of the “Old Boys Club”. I was always an outsider; a local end boss at best. In my 15 years of being a competitive player; I have played in only 20 or so GPs, 7 PTs and a few SCG tournaments (5 or so). I have always had other commitments (School, Full time Job, Wife and 3 kids), and I never focused 100% on magic as a job or anything. Despite all of this, I was always totally enthralled by the Pro Tour. I know I am not alone. I spent years traveling to PTQs in the South and found that there were 100s of local players who wanted the exact same thing as me. 1000s worldwide all chasing the same dream. The dream of mastering this beautiful game and moving up to the very highest level. The Pro Tour was an enigma; until you played in it. Once you did, you realized how right you were all along. The entire reason you played the game was for your shot in those 16 (17! 👌🏻💪🏻) rounds. The current state of the PT/Wizards Organized Play is still mostly a disaster. Everyone sort of knows this, but it seems that most people don’t care to admit it. (They usually either benefit directly from the current system, or they are incentivized to “be cordial” in hopes of one day benefiting from the climb up the ranks of the popularity contest. They say nothing or even back up the new status quo.) Shoutout to the true hero’s like GerryT and Lucas Berthoud. They benefited from the RNG in the system and still stood up for the fairness of competition. To the Edel’s and Soorani’s; keep fighting the good fight. I will always tell it like it is. At this point they are going further and further into the wrong direction. Magic is completely peaking; unfortunately OP is floundering around hopelessly. The only way to make anything happen right now is to win tournaments. No 2nd places. No top 8s. No good run,nice 11-5 see u in a few months. You have to be ruthless and collect trophies. If you don’t do this, at the moment you are an afterthought. That being said, I am coming for the trophies. When I win the Players Tour Finals 1 and then the World Championship you don’t have to worry; I will still be screaming for organized play to be about open and fair competition. The reality is simple; The highest echelon of competition is now DIRECTLY mingled with one giant absurd petty ridiculous unbelievable comically hilariously awkwardly stupidly infuriating POPULARITY CONTEST. This is mind boggling for so many reasons. It doesn’t have to be this way! No system is ever going to be perfect. It’s impossible to make everyone happy. It’s impossible to be 100% fair. But you could at least fake it? Just try a little bit?? Having invitationals is awesome. Invite Savjz and Day9 and then whoever you want to help out with the diversity issue. But don’t tie them directly in to the Pro Tour results??? And then make them 3x important as the Paper Pro tour Results???? It literally makes so little sense and is so infurating I cannot believe how little has been said about it. I know Wily and Lucas Kai etc. talk about it often. But 25+ of the MPL all pretty much silent on it. Even the people on the bubble aren’t raising hell!!? I can’t imagine being someone who grinds and did well in multiple paper MCs this year, who is now on the bubble of rivals or MPL (that they found out about randomly over halfway through the season) and not invited to most or any of these Arena MCs!! They are OBSCENE tournaments already; 750K prizepool for a small group of players. The EV is unbelievable. And they just PILE on the Mythic Points or whatever BS system they use. It’s like worth double or more points of the Paper PTs 🤦🏻‍♂️😂😵 Siggy and I were talking while I was waiting to play my Quarterfinal match of the last fucking Pro Tour. I was in the top 8!! Siggy had just gotten 10th. I told him how bittersweet it is. With PTs mattering less and no1 caring anymore; I don’t feel as excited as I expected I would. It helped me focus as I know that winning is the only result that matters. I can get 2nd and no1 will remember me. I will not be invited to the next Pro Tour on Arena in a month. In 2 paper PTs from now I will not be there at all unless I top 8 the next one too!! (Or I get on the good side of some Wizards people maybe, or up my clout and twitter followers.) People say this stuff as a joke, but even in this PT top 8 I felt alienated a bit. Ondrej was getting literal hugs from all of the staff before the quarters even started because they know him from inviting him to things, because he calls himself Honey and smiles and is nice and streams. I love Ondrej and I believe he’s a really great player and deserves to be playing these tournaments anyway; It’s just wild to me that at the literal highest possible level of competition it’s still about some things other than the competition. Lucas and others have covered it, but in no other games/esports is this the case. When you watch the TI; or even the Fortnite World Championship... You don’t see famous players or clout farmers. You see unbelievable talent and dedication, the absolute best of the best who clearly earned their way. You don’t see Marshmello and Drake; or even Ninja and his buddies. You see 100 kids between the ages of 13-20 you’ve never heard of; who are all so unbelievably good it will give you the chills. Siggy said something along the lines of “Yeah it is really weird; I got 10th for 5k which is just an unbelievable result obviously. But the Arena PT next month is worth like 5x. You get 7500$ for dead last! And so many points!!” Congrats Siggy, but I won’t be playing in the Arena PT. Neither will 1000s of players who have played in the handfuls of paper PTs over the past few years. SEPERATE THEM! Have all the Arena Invitationals you want. Spend as much money on that as you want. We can take the slaps in the face it’s no big deal. “250k PLAYERS TOUR FINALS! Qualify by winning FIRST PLACE in a GP this season!!! Only 128 Players very exclusive wow wow cool we have to kill the pro tour to make this happen but it’s awesome woohoooooo” “Cominggggg to Long Beach Californiaaaaaaa Your 3Million$$$$$ Arena Mythic Professional Tour Championship of the Universe!!!!!!!!!!! 38 Unbelievable challengers will be taking on this new format and chopping up the 3 million$ plus 100s of Mythic pojnts catapaulting them all into the MPL conversation while you argue on twitter about who should have been invited; as if it fucking matters. As if we read that shit at all!!! If we fucking cared about what you think maybe we would respond to you sometimes 😂💪🏻😬👌🏻👌🏻💯” Just relax; stop giving away rivals/MPL points in tournaments that are invite based and already so high profile with massive prize pools. (This doesn’t affect me at all by the way; I am not even close on points it’s just very obviously the right thing to do and it’s unbelievable they aren’t acknowledging it and just continuing to invite whoever they feel like). Ok enough clowning... but for real though. What in the fuck is this popularity contest bullshit?? How is this being joked about so lightly, it’s an abomifuckingnation! Invite whoever you want, just pick some people based on some predetermined merit. Give people a chance. Something to shoot for. Have open tournaments for people from Australia and Latin America. Have open qualifier tournaments for females/NB Invite people who deserve to be there from previous PT performance like Allen Wu or Eli Loveman or Matt Sperling or Sebastian Pozzo or TheSneakyhomunculous or Jack MF Dobbin or Lan d Ho and Mark herberholz for all I care. Just give the people some feedback on anything ever! Ok enough is actually enough I could write forever about OP and what I wish they would do. But really all we can ask for is fair competition and clear communication. People will complain about anything and everything, but if Wizards would just be open and honest while communicating and promoting fair competition at the highest levels... I couldn’t give 2 shits how little money the tournaments pay or where we have to play them. We just want to have a fighting chance to play against Paulo and Luis and Kai and Yuki and Allen Wu and Zvi and Gab and Seth and Li and Lucas and Shota. Aside: Arena is also a disaster at this point. How can they not implement a friends list? Any programming/computer scientist people know what the fuck is going on? It’s been 2 years now and they are still printing $ faster than a magic streamer from outside the US with 10k+ twitter followers can print with 500000 Arena PTs on the horizon! And they still can’t fix anything ever? How is there no spectator mode or tourney mode? How is building a sealed deck still impossible? How is the best fucking computer you can find lagging after 5 matches no matter what? We gotta figure this shit out m8. Arena should have nice big competitive in client tournaments every day. At least one or two a week. Instead we can’t even draft the fucking current format? The bots can’t fucking click on Merfolk Secretkeeper? 3 cards in pack they really click deafening silence over the secretkeeper???? God dammit GG’s no re sorry u had to read this. TL;DR Old Man Yells at Clouds

The Shingles Solution

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/the-shingles-solution/

The Shingles Solution

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When I got shingles I also got very, very lucky.

Much luckier, in fact, than many people who get shingles – and especially my poor brother, who had it for 8 long months.

He suffered terribly but… he also found out how to make sure it never happened again. Which is what helped me out when I got it.

As a result, my shingles came and went quickly with almost no discomfort. I suffered none of its common complications.

And, unlike many other people, I believe I’m unlikely to ever have it again.

But let me quickly get to the point here because time is of the essence. If you have shingles now it’s vital you act quickly if you’re to be sure that this unpleasant illness doesn’t turn into a years-long disaster.

So my brother was 58 when he first got shingles. He was a tough guy, worked in construction, fit, strong, good-humored.

But after 4 days of shingles, he had faded to a shadow of himself. I’d never heard of the illness at that time. But I saw first hand what it can do to a person.

My brother described so vividly the unbearable itching… the skin so sensitive that he couldn’t even let his clothes touch it… that I could almost feel my own skin tingling.

He wasn’t sleeping – there was no comfortable position for him. The intense itching, the hot pain, and chronic tiredness was grinding him down. He was worn out, miserable, and struggling to just get through the day.

He couldn’t work so he couldn’t earn. He applied creams and ice-packs as per his doctor’s instructions but the improvement was slow and frustrating.

But here’s where it got really bad for my brother. After 3 weeks the scabs across his body were finally drying up and starting to heal. We all believed his shingles were finally healing itself.

Yet while the itching had reduced… for some reason, he was still in a lot of pain.

His doctor was concerned but told him he’ll have to wait and see how things played out.

They didn’t play out well at all.

Because for more than 8 months after the final shingles scab had cleared my brother experienced searing pain every single day.

There were little let-up and only limited relief from pain-killers. Those months were, to put it bluntly, absolute hell for him.

He experienced savage pain day-after-day for nearly 250 days in a row.

It was with him on his birthday, his wedding anniversary, Thanksgiving, throughout all of Christmas and well into the new year.

And yet, as we later discovered, his 8 months of suffering is not uncommon. This is why his doctor had been worried. There’s a name for this specific affliction: postherpetic neuralgia, or PHN for short.

Postherpetic neuralgia – PHN – is the single most common complication of shingles. It’s absolute agony. Most sufferers agree that it is easily worse than the shingles that led to it.

PHN is constant, unrelenting, searing nerve pain. You can do almost nothing to get comfort.

My brother is 6 feet tall, 185 pounds of mostly muscle and he’s worked in some of the toughest working conditions known…. and smiled and laughedhis way through it all. Yet all the while he had this PHN I often saw tears in his eyes, it was that awful.

Not in a million years could I ever imagine my brother crying. And yet… there he was.

The initial shingles attack – while deeply unpleasant – was a cakewalk compared to the horrors of PHN.

My brother’s PHN ended after 8 months – possibly only because of something he did about a week before it ended. And this is something you’d really want to know about – and I’ll explain it in a second.

But when the PHN did clear up we thought this whole horrible business was finally over. What else could happen now?

Something else did happen.

Just when you think you’re in the clear…

11 months later my brother had shingles again.

We looked at him as he told us the news and we were totally lost for words.

That didn’t matter though. Because he had something to say to us. He told us this time it’s going to be different.

This time he was going to save himself from the misery of everything that had happened before.

First, that afternoon, he went to the doctor. My brother respected doctors’ knowledge – even though it hadn’t helped him last time.

But, second – and this was where things would be different this time – he was going to take matters into his own hands too.

His first experience of postherpetic neuralgia (PHN) had been awful. Doctors had been unable to help and he just had to wait it out.

As the pain and exhaustion had worn him down he’d looked for other ways of addressing the misery. And he’d got hold of a shingles treatment program from a natural health practitioner called Julissa Clay.

Julissa’s program was called The Shingles Solution.

The Shingles Solution has a very solid reputation and tens of thousands of delighted followers. Julissa Clay herself is a celebrated and highly respected natural health practitioner who specializes in resolving some of the world’s worst illnesses.

My brother isn’t really into natural remedies. But he’d been in that much pain he was willing to step outside the box in search of something to end the misery.

One problem: he’d got hold of the program way too late. He’d had painful PHN for more than 7 months at that point.

Ideally, you start to follow the program’s guidance in the first days of shingles – while you’ve still got the scabs and itching. Not 7 months later when shingles is a distant memory and you’re in daily agony with PHN.

But the pain wasn’t letting up. So he just did everything the program told him to do.

Incredibly, just about a week later the PHN had melted away. It had faded from about the 3rd day and disappeared completely by the 8th.

My brother was disbelieving, relieved, grateful.

His doctor was happy for him but couldn’t explain it. She admitted some natural remedies do work very well where medicine had failed.

But now, 11 months later here he was at the start of the second attack of shingles. And if my brother knew anything… he knew he wasn’t going to go through PHN again.

Confession time…

He told us something though that we didn’t know. He said that this program had been easy to follow – and clearly had worked – but once his PHN cleared he’d not bothered to keep up with its simple instructions.

And that mattered – a lot. Why?

Because one of the program’s strongest benefits was that it not only resolved itching and pain during shingles… it not only avoided PHN after shingles… it also took away the causes of shingles ever occurring again.

He should have stuck with it after the pain had ended. He wouldn’t have shingles again if he had.

And he knew it.

Getting it right this time

This time he did it right from day one. He followed the instructions in Julissa Clay’s program to the letter.

And his experience of shingles was dramatically different.

This time itching was minimal and infrequent. Nerve pain was mild and lasted days instead of weeks.

He suffered none of the fatigue of last time. He didn’t lose any sleep. He was able to continue going to work. He endured fewer scabs – and they cleared quickly, mostly without scarring.

And when all was clear about 15 days later…. he didn’t have even a hint of PHN.

No mistakes this time

And this time he didn’t make the mistake he made last time. This time he maintained the changes. And 7 years later he’s not had even a whisper of shingles.

In fact, he believes that the virus that causes it has died out completely.

Now all this is good and well. But it wouldn’t be a reason for me to be writing to you today if that was the end of it.

Once again, it wasn’t the end of it. But here’s the twist in the tale.

6 months ago it was me who had shingles.

I went to bed fine, I woke up very much not fine.

But at least I knew what it was. And I knew what to do. My first call was to my doctor. My second was with my brother.

‘Brother, send me that program. Send it now.’

He did. And I did exactly what the program told me. I followed the guide to the letter. I cut no corners, took no chances.

And I saw my shingles out in just 15 days. Which has to be some sort of world record.

But more than that – and I thank my stars for this – I never suffered postherpetic neuralgia (PHN).

The possible weeks, months, or years of intense nerve pain, sleepless nights, and very low moods were what I was most scared of.

I’d seen my brother suffer it all. And I’d read about other people’s experience of PHN and I wanted more than anything to avoid that. And I did avoid it. All of it.

What The Shingles Solution did for me

The program did four things for me. These are essential for anybody suffering shingles right now. They were crucial to my quick and full recovery:

The program cleared up my shingles scabs in record time. They dried quickly and cleared with virtually no scarring.

It reduced the itching to almost nothing – and ensured I had almost no pain at all. Shingles for me was almost a background feeling – it didn’t affect my day to day life at all.

The program stopped me suffering postherpetic neuralgia (PHN) – a fate I absolutely dreaded. I was probably most glad about this. When my shingles went there were no PHN complications afterward.

It has ensured that my first attack of shingles was my last attack of shingles. Even though I was able to minimize my shingles experience I certainly didn’t want it a second time.

I had shingles for less than half the time most other people have it. And I suffered zero after-effects.

If you have to have shingles… this is the way you want to have it!

And do be clear about this: there is nothing unusual about the outcome I enjoyed. I wasn’t some rare, lucky person.

Put plainly, thousands of people with shingles take this natural, evidence-based approach to their illness and get well quickly – with minimal pain and no after-effects.

Others trust drugs and pharmaceuticals only – and take their chances. That – as my brother found out – can end very badly.

How I avoided shingles horror

Let me tell you how Julissa Clay’s program achieves what it does and you’ll see for yourself.

You’re possibly aware that shingles are caused by the varicella-zoster virus.

Remember chickenpox? The varicella-zoster virus has been with you since you got rid of that illness – which was possible decades ago.

Our immune systems beat and then suppress the virus so that it no longer harms us. However, the virus still lies dormant in our nerve cells. Our immune system keeps it in check so that it does us no further harm.

However, if the immune system falters… the varicella-zoster virus reactivates. And shingles are the result.

Most people had chickenpox when they were young. They, therefore, carry the varicella-zoster virus. Many never go on to get shingles. Their immune system wins out and varicella-zoster remains dormant for life, never getting the chance to resurface.

Many others do get the illness. Millions every year, in fact. I’m one of those people. You are too. Basically, our immune system fought a losing battle and the virus has run rampant throughout the nervous system.

If you’re suffering right now I don’t need to describe the consequences of this.

But, as you now realize, it’s not only the suffering we go through in the first 4 – 6 weeks that causes problems. The mix of a weakened immune system and a system-wide attack on nerves is very dangerous.

Shingles lead to complications – with intensely painful PHN its most common complication.

But the illness can also spread throughout the nervous system, attacking organs and causing brain and nerve damage.

There are potentially deadly complications – which include a heightened risk of tumors, poorly controlled blood sugars, degenerative brain disease, leaky gut, metabolic syndrome, heart disease, and liver disease.

We need to beat this illness while we have it. Right now, in other words.

We need to ensure it doesn’t result in ongoing nerve damage – and the ravages of PHN. And we want to be absolutely sure that this time is the last time we suffer the illness.

Acting too slowly – or not taking advantage of the best guidance for beating shingles – can be a health disaster.

How long can postherpetic neuralgia – PHN – last?

What’s truly frightening about PHN is that it can last as little as a few weeks but as much as years.

So 4 to 6 weeks of painful, exhausting shingles isn’t necessarily the end of the story. In fact, for too many people it’s the start of something truly horrific.

PHN can last months or years. Out of every 100 people who get shingles, two of them will suffer PHN for 5 years.

Having seen my brother nearly crushed by it over 8 months I understand why people who suffer its unrelenting pain for years often end up with serious mental health challenges.

Each time you have shingles you run a real risk of PHN straight afterward. Which is one of the strongest reasons I can think of to absolutely not want the illness a second time?

And how many times can you get shingles?

One thing worse than getting shingles is getting it again.

In the US, Harvard’s own researchers have concluded that your chances of getting shingles a second time is about the same as your chances of getting it the first time.

That’s terrible news if you’re already in the middle of your first attack.

Other facts about shingles aren’t exactly comforting.

If you had a bad first case of shingles, or if you’re a woman or if you’re currently over the age of 50… you have a measurably higher chance of getting shingles a second time.

So if you’re over 50 – or intending to eventually be over the age of 50 – your risks are rising with each passing year.

If you’ve got shingles right now…. well, prepare yourself for another hit in due course. And brace yourself for the real possibility that the second one will be measurably worse than this first one.

Except – it no longer has to be like this

We now know a reliable and effective way around all this.

Julissa Clay’s The Shingles Solution has been quietly beating shingles at its own game for years now. Tens of thousands of people who started with shingles have followed Julissa’s guidance. They’ve had a very different experience to the usual horror stories.

Far less itching.

Little to almost no pain at all.

Very fast recovery from the initial attack.

No PHN afterward.

And no repeat of the disease.

Why this works

The weakness of the standard medical approach to shingles is that they focus heavily on reducing the symptoms of the disease – and not nearly enough on obliterating its causes.

This means all too often they suppress the effects of the illness… but leave its underlying cause in place. So, in effect, you remain ill even when it seems on the surface that things are being managed.

The Shingles Solution doesn’t make this mistake.

The cause of shingles is a weakened immune system. Therefore, the program focuses entirely on returning your immune system to its full strength.

So the program did give me very effective remedies to quickly end the terrible itching and pain of shingles. But it also did something vitally important for my long-term health: it completely rejuvenated my immune system. And because of that

I suffered significantly less – and for a much shorter time – while I actually had shingles

my body fought off shingles – and the fatigue, the joint pain, the itching, and the intense pain – in double-time

I suffered absolutely no after-effects – PHN being the one I feared most

And I don’t expect to ever get shingles again – so no fear of going through all this ever again

The program is a complete response to shingles. It powerfully treats the illness while you’ve got it – and you need some relief while you have the illness. But it also protects you from even worse complications – and the possibility of it coming back again.

This Is how it works

A weakened immune system let the virus get the upper hand. That’s why we get shingles.

A strong immune system – capable of handling whatever comes its way – is the only response to this disease.

Shingles are considered a lifestyle disease.

After all, an immune system doesn’t just become weaker for no reason. There’s a cause. And the cause is specific lifestyle habits that compromise the immune system, meaning it’s no longer strong enough to hold off the virus.

Undo what you’re doing that is weakening the immune system… and you once again have a strong immune system.

None of this is magic. Every single piece of information and guidance in Julissa’s program has years of scientific and research evidence behind it – all verified at university and research institutions across the world.

The Shingles Solution is hard science applied to a distressing and painful disease in a practical, straightforward and completely natural way. And it has absolutely fantastic outcomes.

What is in the Shingles Solution?

For all its power, Julissa Clay’s The Shingles Solution is a simple plan delivered in 2 straightforward phases over just 4 weeks.

Each phase comes with a daily instruction sheet. I knew what to do and when to do it. No guesswork. Just do it and feel the change.

The first 7 days are a little more strict than the rest of the plan – but that’s because we want to quickly see the end of the fever, itching, pain, and fatigue that accompanies the disease.

We adjust back to a more relaxed protocol as soon as you feel better.

But as a result of these gentle changes I enjoyed powerful benefits:

I got quick, lasting relief from the itching and pain I had been suffering from the onset of the illness

my immune system became much stronger so shingles just couldn’t reactivate again

my body was able to remove cells from throughout my body that had been corrupted by the virus

my body was able to repair all those damaged nerve endings

the immunity boost I got reduced the chances of me ever getting the liver disease, heart disease, or stroke

it also protects me against degenerative brain disease

and it acts strongly against brain inflammation, nerve damage, paralysis, and chronic pain

Why a natural approach rather than pharmaceutical drugs?

Our bodies operate powerfully, natural health systems specifically designed to keep you well. ‘Healthy’ is your body’s natural state. It becomes ill because of what we do to it. Make small, beneficial changes and you go back to your body’s preferred healthy state.

Remember: we get shingles from a weakened immune system. And that system didn’t weaken on its own. We did things that caused it. By reversing what we did…. our immune system comes back online, strong, powerful, and able to fight off all kinds of affliction. Including shingles.

Note something important here: it wasn’t pharma’s drugs or meds that caused the illness. So why would those things remedy it? If we behaved our way into shingles then we can behave our way out of it.

This is exactly what The Shingles Solution showed me. And it worked.

What is in the program?

There are several strands to Julissa’s The Shingles Solution. One of them is, of course, food.

Food is nutrition. Specific foods prevent illness, repair the body’s varied structures, and ensure that internal processes run properly to keep us fit and alive. Other foods cause illness, damage the body, and prevent those internal processes from keeping us in the best possible shape.

Of course, when you’re in the midst of a shingles attack and

you want rid of it quickly,

you sure as heck don’t want PHN and

you want to ensure you absolutely never get shingles again…

…your nutrition has to be spot on.

Fortunately, eating well to treat shingles isn’t especially restrictive. I found myself eating most of the foods I used to eat. It’s more a case of eating less of the few things that definitely won’t help you manage shingles and more of the things that strongly fight off the illness.

But knowledge is key here. We can’t use just any ‘healthy eating’ plan.

For example, there are foods you love that you fear you’ll have to reduce… You’ll be happily surprised to discover that, actually, it’s okay to consume them.

There are a few foods generally considered ‘healthy’ that you should actually eat less of. Which surprised me when I first learned it.

Very occasionally there are critical changes you simply have to make. There can be no dilly-dallying because certain foods are very bad for you in the first weeks of shingles. And others are extremely helpful to you. We want none of the bad and lots of the good – at least for a few weeks…

And, again, proper knowledge is crucial here.

For example, there is a particular food nutrient that sometimes is your best defense against shingles… but other times it directly feeds the shingles virus, making it as bad as it can be. Knowing how best to use it is straightforward – and it’s a key weapon in the fight against shingles.

On the other hand, there’s a specific food ingredient that is proven time and again to feed unwanted organisms in the body… which leads them to generate inflammation throughout the body, ruining our immune system. To ensure our current attack of shingles ends quickly and without after-effects absolutely requires that we get this ingredient out of our diet immediately.

And so on.

None of this is difficult – and the program lays it all out for you so you can just follow without worrying about the scientific details behind it. But if you’re going to avoid PHN and future recurrences of shingles you must get this right.

Day by day does it

There are simple daily habits you can incorporate into your life that not only support the fight against shingles right now – but which crucially make any future recurrence extremely unlikely.

Your damaged immunity system is what permitted the shingles virus to reactivate. There are reasons why your immune system is damaged. An important reason is related to nutrition, as already described.

But a critical cause of immunity weakness is underlying tiredness and background stress – which can measurably destroy a person’s health. And this can’t be over-emphasized.

Now, on first reading this I thought, “I sleep like a lamb. I’m one of the least stressed people anyone knew. Ask anyone who knew me and they’d have said the same.”

I quickly found out just how wrong I was.

Turns out that sleep on its own isn’t enough. We need deep, rejuvenating sleep that reboots a worn-out immune system and allows it to become strong again. The recuperative powers of deep sleep are said by many doctors to be better than some medicines.

And stress comes in many forms. Perhaps you recognize some of these in your life: physical stresses and aches in the body; mental or emotional stresses and worries; work pressures and concerns; family matters, being too busy to fully wind down, and so on.

All these work in the background suppressing the immune system and so allowing the virus to come back to life.

Stress is especially dangerous because so many people have been suffering it for so long they don’t even notice it’s there anymore. It’s become normalized to the point that we simply don’t feel it.

In the days after following Julissa Clay’s sleep and stress advice, I not only slept more deeply than I ever had in my life. I also felt an almost religious sense of peace come over me. It’s hard to describe – but wonderful to experience.

Fueling the body properly through exactly the right foods… and giving it the deep, restorative rest it needs… literally transform a person’s ability to defeat shingles.

Suddenly having access to what it needs gives your body a burst of healing that you can almost feel happening.

Months after defeating shingles I am still more refreshed and relaxed than I ever have been in my entire life.

Shingles don’t stand a chance

There’s a number of small, everyday habits that lead to a suppressed immune system – and therefore to shingles. These are normal habits, things that most humans do.

The good news is that each of these unhelpful habits has a perfectly natural, perfectly sensible remedy – which The Shingles Solution explains.

Added together, the effect of The Shingles Solution is to treat the illness you currently have – and its itching, pain, and fatigue – quickly so that you get the relief you so badly need.

Following the program’s simple guidance keeps us from agonizing PHN – and a repeat of the whole nasty illness later on.

The bonus…

But it also makes your immune system bullet-proof, ensuring that anything that an immune system could possibly fight off….is something that your immune system can fight off.

So this is not just a recipe for freedom from shingles. It offers us freedom from dozens of diseases that a malfunctioning immune system – and the chronic inflammation that comes with it – typically give rise to.

And given that immunity and inflammation conditions include heart disease, liver disease, blood sugar imbalances, tumors, and metabolic disease… I certainly feel I’ve done myself a huge favor by taking care of this aspect of my health.

What about you?

So where are you in your shingles journey?

If it’s full-blown or in its early days then timing is everything. Quickly removing from your life factors that damage your immune system pays huge dividends – fast.

Adding to your lifestyle simple habits that enhance your immune system and cause it to ramp up a level boosts that life-giving effect. In short, the body is quick to reward us when we take care of it.

Time is of the essence. Catching the disease as quickly as possible pays off in ways you have to feel to believe. Tackle your condition now. Don’t let intense itching or burning pain ruin the next month of your life.

But, especially, don’t leave yourself open to the agony of months – but possibly years – of postherpetic neuralgia. PHN is one of the cruelest and most painful afflictions known. I saw my brother suffering… there’s nothing he wouldn’t have risked to put an end to it.

Get The Shingles Solution now. The program is fully guaranteed. Do it for yourself.

Few diseases get better on their own. Shingles are no exception.

But with standard treatments over-focusing on symptoms rather than homing in on the underlying, ongoing causes of the illness… we run unacceptable risks with postherpetic neuralgia – and then a repeat attack of shingles later.

I prevented my shingles from turning into trauma by addressing those natural underlying causes. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I did. The shingles attack itself ended up quite mild, faded quickly… and I didn’t suffer any complications afterward.

Protect yourself. Address shingles where it’s actually caused – and literally feel the difference.

The Shingles Solution isn’t just for you!

My brother got this program then passed it on to me. You would do the same for a loved one. Everyone you know who has had chickenpox (which amounts to 99% of everyone you know!) is at risk of shingles.

One-third of Americans get it in the end. When you’ve made yourself well you will be glad you can pass on the knowledge.

Look after yourself and look after the people you love – get your copy of The Shingles Solution now.

Mental Illness Deserves A Sick Day Just Like A Physical Illness

What’s great about America is that we’ve got a highly productive workforce that grinds like no other. We invent some of the greatest products and consistently build some of the largest companies in the world.

What’s sad about America is that we’re working ourselves to an early death. We pride ourselves on working double digit work hours a day. We pack our schedules to the brim and never give ourselves a break.

I’m guilty of adopting the “always be grinding” mentality because I landed a a dream job in New York City after college and then migrated to San Francisco, another hyper-competitive city. I didn’t want to take my luck for granted, so I tended to constantly push myself to the limit.

Even after I left full-time work in 2012 after 13 years of 60-80-hour work weeks, I still wanted to keep the intensity up with my writing on Financial Samurai. I was free to kick back and do whatever thanks to passive income, but I refused to live a life of leisure after the first six months of freedom.

Needless self-imposed pressures are why so many of us aren’t as happy as we should be. As soon as I let go of my perennial goals of outperforming the S&P and reaching ever higher website growth, I started to feel happier.

Accept Your Mental Illness

Nobody bats an eye if you tell them you’re planning on taking several days off because you’ve come down with the flu or some nasty bacteria. Falling physically ill is normal, especially if you’ve got little ones running around.

But nobody comes out and admits they have a mental illness that’s keeping them down. Yet I argue we all experience some sort of mental illness at some point in our lives.

I come down with a mental illness at least once a year.

Sometimes I get depressed about how unfair life is. My depression always focuses on why some people have so much opportunity, while other people have so little opportunity.

I go through a guilt phase where I often ask, why me? During this time period, I have no desire to hang out with anyone. I start thinking wild ideas like relocating to Virginia over Hawaii because I need a certain amount of suffering to feel more worthy.

While living in Malaysia, one of my friend’s died in a car accident at age 15. He lost control and rammed into a tree off the highway. Yes, he legally wasn’t allowed to drive, but we were irreverent in Kuala Lumpur. The passenger in the front seat didn’t survive either.

We were skateboard buddies from different schools who would hang out over the weekend. He was one of the coolest kids around and I wanted to go out with him to the club that night, but he ignored me because I was only 13.

The next day, I called Mark to ask whether he wanted to hang out. I will always remember his mother’s voice telling me he had passed away.

I have survivor’s guilt. I’ve learned that one of the best ways of overcoming this mental condition is to journal my thoughts and be useful to others. Over the years, no other activity has helps me more.

The reason why I started Financial Samurai in July 2009 was due to extreme anxiety and fear that I was going to lose everything I spent 10 years building up until the financial crisis.

I had nightmares of having to go back to work flipping burgers at McDonald’s for a tyrant manager. As a result, perhaps I am more sensitive to financial loss than the average person.

Through my posts and now through the Financial Samurai Forum, I’ve found a supportive community that acts as my supplemental mental health care system. Over the years, so many folks have reached out to share similar thoughts.

Take Sick Days For Your Mental Health

When I advised employees to take sick days instead of PTO in my post, Using Vacation Days Before A Severance Negotiation, I expected some readers to question my advice given our grinding society.

Here are a couple negative responses,

“Your suggestion of using sick days in lieu of vacation days is a gray area. Some companies have policies which theoretically forbid that. Or, if you use a certain amount of sick days in a row (say 3 or more) you have to get a doctors note. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be relaxing on the beach in Hawaii having to call my boss each day pretending to be sick.“

“Taking a sick day when I am not sick? Sorry, my moral code won’t let me go there. A day’s pay used to be worth a couple of grand, that is significant, but the price of my word, that is nonnegotiable, or priceless, if it is a Visa commercial. And if the company is being evil, well, that’s on them, I’m fine with fighting but I only fight fair regardless of how someone else fights. What anyone else does, not my problem, what I do, I have to live with that guy.“

To a manager or CEO, these responses are music to their ears. Their goal is to have employees be max loyal to the firm, while they enrich themselves with max reward.

What the commenters don’t recognize is the importance of taking sick days to improve one’s mental health. Their automatic assumption is that sick days are only for physical illnesses, which is a big blind spot.

I used to work at a firm that allowed a three-month sabbatical for every five years of work. Unfortunately, no manager ever took a sabbatical, which meant that nobody else took a sabbatical out of fear of getting a crap bonus or worse.

But after my 8th year at the firm, I decided to take a step towards living a more balanced life by taking all my vacation days. For the last three years at my old firm, I took six weeks off a year and loved it. I stopped giving a crap about what others thought.

Interestingly, while I took six weeks off a year, my production improved. Unfortunately, my firm didn’t properly compensate me for my production. But instead of complaining, I negotiated a severance.

Types Of Mental Illnesses

Perhaps you still have doubts about how common mental illness really is. Well here is an infographic that puts together many mental health issues. I’ve written most of them out since there are so many and the graph is so small.

Types Of Anxiety

Agora

PTSD

OCD

Acute Stress Disorder

Adjustment Disorder

Substance Induced

Separation Anxiety

Selective Mutism

Caffeine Induced

Androphobia (fear of men)

Panic

Social

Generalized

Types Of Schizophrenia

Schizoaffective

Paranoid

Brief Psychotic

Schizophrenium

Delusional

Shared Psychotic

Disorganized/ Hebephrenia

Cenesthopathic

Types Of Eating Disorders

Anorexia Nervosa

Bulimia Nervosa

Binge Eating

Eating Disorder Not Other Specified (EDNOS)

Atypical

Purging

Night/Nocturnal

Orthorexia

Pica

Types Of Self Harm

Cutting

Carving

Using Objects (kicking or punching a wall)

Scratching

Picking

Ripping Skin off

Promiscuity

Burning

Hair Pulling

Rubbing objects on the skin

Misusing or Abusing Alcohol or drugs

Eating Disorders

Suicide Attempt

Law Breaking

Poisoning with toxic chemicals

Excessive exercise

Multiple piercings and/or tattoos

Overspending money

Types of ADD/ADHD

Inattentive

Hyperactive-Impulsive

Classic ADD

Overfocused ADD

Temporal Lobe ADD

Limbic ADD

Ring of Fire ADD

Anxious ADD

Types of Addiction

Alcoholism

Drugs

Nicotine

Food

Gambling

Internet

Sexual

Shopping

Work

Video Games

Plastic Surgery

OTC Medications

Arson

People Pleasing

Perfectionism

Sick Days Are Built Into Your Compensation Package

Not utilizing your sick days or PTO or not taking unemployment benefits is foolish because they are part of your compensation package. Your employer pays unemployment insurance, which directly affects your compensation.

Don’t be a proud ignoramus like me who only took maybe 15 sick days after 11 years of service, when I was allotted 77 sick days. Definitely don’t be one of those people who hoard their PTO and actually lose some of their days because they exceeded the carryover limit.

Take your sick days, take your vacation days, use short-term disability and long-term disability when needed.

You don’t feel bad about your employer subsidizing most of your healthcare costs. So why should you feel bad about taking sick days?

If your employer gets around the unpaid PTO issue by offering unlimited PTO, your mission is to take more PTO, especially if you are planning to do something else. Test the the word “unlimited.” So long as you’re hitting your performance metrics, you should be fine.

We’re in a tight labor market folks. The very least you can do is take advantage of all your benefits. And for goodness sake, let’s all accept that mental illness affects us all in some way.

Once you embrace the ubiquity of mental illness, you will develop more empathy for those whom you find uncomfortable.

Related: Using The Family Medical Leave Act To Negotiate A Severance

Readers, why doesn’t society do a better job at recognizing mental illnesses? Why do some people feel embarrassed or conflicted about taking sick days or PTO? Have people been conditioned this badly to not recognize their benefits?

The post Mental Illness Deserves A Sick Day Just Like A Physical Illness appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/mental-illness-deserves-a-sick-day-just-like-a-physical-illness/

The 300 Week 47: New Game Plus

By which we go above and past 300 films in 2018

Get up, Crono, it’s time for The 300, my radical dream to see greater than 300 films in theaters in 2018. I’ll be watching new releases, classics, hidden gems, and competition movies to expertise the vast world of cinema in all its kind. With a lot moviegoing selection, there’s in all probability one thing you’d be fascinated with as effectively.

As at all times, there are three guidelines for The 300:

The film have to be at the very least 40 minutes lengthy, assembly the Academy of Movement Image Arts and Sciences’ definition of a characteristic movie.

I have to watch the film at a movie show, screening room, or out of doors screening venue.

Whereas I can watch films I’ve seen earlier than 2018, I can’t depend repeated viewings of the identical movie in 2018 a number of instances.

I hit 300 films in final week’s installment of The 300, which implies I’m beginning this week north of the purpose. Contemplate this a victory lap. I’m undecided what number of films I’ll see past 300 given the vacations and journey plans, however I’ll proceed to trace my full 12 months of filmgoing every week by means of 2018. This in all probability means I’ll write a prime 50 films of the 12 months fairly than a prime 20. Additionally, if I hit a sure variety of films by December 31, I’ll even get the dinosaur ending.

A bit strapped for time this week, however I’ll have some further ideas on this prolonged movie-watching expertise within the December installments this sequence. The top of the 12 months is at all times a fantastic excuse to look again earlier than trying ahead. For now, it’s again to the grind.

And so, onward.

301 of 300: Nonetheless Strolling (2008) (aka 歩いても 歩いても; Aruitemo aruitemo)

Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda Starring: Hiroshi Abe, Yui Natsukawa, Kirin Kiki, Kazuya Takahashi Nation: Japan Seen at The Movie Society of Lincoln Heart (New York, NY) Wednesday, November 21st

It made sense to observe Hirokazu Kore-eda’s exceptional After Life (The 300 Week 46) with some type of playful pun. Therefore the primary movie after 300 is Nonetheless Strolling, one other deeply affecting Kore-eda film. This film is firmly in Kore-eda’s wheelhouse, specializing in the trivia of household dynamics and what that has to say about our connections to people who find themselves near us. On a sizzling summer time’s day, a household comes collectively to commemorate the loss of life of the eldest son 15 years in the past. In only a single afternoon and night, we perceive the contours of the totally different relationships on display, and the interpersonal and generational frictions of those well-rendered, imperfect folks. I discovered myself notably drawn to Nonetheless Strolling’s exploration of familial disappointments. Youngsters typically fail to reside as much as their mother and father’ beliefs, and vice versa. What then? We maintain going, clearly.

It’s fascinating to see this movie after seeing Kore-eda’s Shoplifters on the New York Movie Pageant (The 300 Week 39). We’re instructed in Shoplifters that the households we select are typically preferable to those we’re born into. What I see in Nonetheless Strolling is the troublesome, begrudging love we have now with blood relations, and the way these bonds are maintained even when they’re so bothersome. I additionally see the thought of households we construct ourselves handled with unbelievable heat in the way in which Ryota (Hiroshi Abe) and Yukari (Yui Natsukawa) work together; he’s her second husband, and she or he has a toddler from the earlier marriage. I’m tempted to rewatch Kore-eda’s Like Father, Like Son to intensify this exploration of familial connection, and the way this kinship might be about blood relation on its floor however is finally about a lot extra.

On this lengthy 12 months of filmgoing, Nonetheless Strolling additionally jogged my memory of how a shot might be completely accomplished by the passing of a prepare. It’s a thought that I first had whereas watching Chantal Akerman’s hauntingly unhappy Les Rendez-vous d’Anna (The 300 Week 43), reified by Kore-eda just a few weeks later. In my thoughts this notion is sort of a prepare experience began a month in the past, accomplished solely simply now.

302 of 300: PlayTime (1967)

Director: Jacques Tati Starring: Jacques Tati, Barbara Dennek Nation: France/Italy Seen at Metrograph (New York, NY) Saturday, November 24th

PlayTime is a continuing sensory delight from starting to finish. Whereas a monetary failure on the time of launch, the film is Jacques Tati’s comedian masterpiece. This was my first likelihood to see the movie on the massive display, and I used to be struck by how a lot I caught when the film was projected massive. PlayTime covers a day within the lifetime of an ultra-modern Paris, touring from airports to expos to flats to stylish eating places. The skinny plot is secondary to the dense, layered pleasures of simply watching.

PlayTime makes a sport out of the act of watching the movie. The primary sport is within the airport. Can you see sure quirky background extras as they reappear? The film is populated with false Monsieur Hulots, Tati’s comedian persona that’s a bit like a suaver Charlie Chaplin and a extra agile Mr. Bean. The following sport is discovering these faux-Hulots. There’s one other sport about monitoring a blue folder, the figuring out mark of the person the actual Hulot should discuss to amid the confusion of a busy cubicle-filled office. Later PlayTime video games are about figuring out trigger and impact, and utilizing your reminiscence, and making an attempt to note one thing in a shot you’ve by no means observed earlier than.

PlayTime’s major philosophical focus is on the world’s unavoidable homogeneity and dehumanization as a consequence of know-how. Journey posters for various international locations characteristic the identical oppressive brick of a skyscraper dominating the native taste. Extra real human interplay and cultural aptitude have been misplaced to the grey tastes of the fashionable world. But significant connection can nonetheless be discovered amongst folks, even in the way in which the fashionable world refracts the beauties of the pure world. Contemplate how the bulbed stems of metallic avenue lamps bend just like the bowed heads of bellflowers. Perhaps one solution to treatment the malaise of modernity is to interact in a type of energetic, empathetic type of day by day play; and, when attainable, to view a few of the world as if it had been a grand image ebook we’ve occurred to stroll into.

303 of 300: The Sisters Brothers (2018)

Director: Jacques Audiard Starring: John C. Reilly, Joaquin Phoenix, Jake Gyllenhaal, Riz Ahmed Nation: USA/France Seen at Roxy Cinema Tribeca (New York, NY) Sunday, November 25th

The Sisters Brothers is completely high-quality, although I hoped for extra. A bit bit revisionist western and somewhat bit darkish comedy, the movie follows Eli and Charlie Sisters (John C. Reilly and Joaquin Phoenix), two employed weapons on the tail of somebody who’s cheated their boss. Eli is a delicate soul who’s turned gunslinger to look at over his drunken screw-up brother. Because the movie unfolds, the film explores a want to depart the vary life, and the cruelties out on the open path. Among the notes in regards to the Wild West vs. pastoral domesticity jogged my memory of John Ford’s The Searchers, one among many style touchstones allude to by director/co-writer Jacques Audiard. And but I felt just like the story might have gone father though it sustained my curiosity, or might have mentioned extra.

Then once more, possibly the film merely is what it’s, and it’s a nice showcase for Reilly’s appearing vary. Eli is a captivating brother’s keeper kind, and appears obsessive about higher-minded and extra romantic concepts about being a gunslinger. Whereas stopping by the city of Mayfield, Eli’s awkward roleplay-foreplay with a prostitute feels chivalrous fairly than kinky. It’s such a humorous but so human (and subsequently unhappy) scene, and Reilly’s voice and infantile frustration and physique language talk a lot so effectively. Perhaps I’d identical to a film about Eli given how a lot I like Reilly as an actor.

304 of 300: Creed II (2018)

Director: Steven Caple, Jr. Starring: Michael B. Jordan, Sylvester Stallone, Tessa Thompson, Dolph Lundgren Nation: USA Seen at AMC Village 7 (New York, NY) Monday, November 26th

Creed II was an okay rehash of Rocky II-IV, however Adonis Creed (Michael B. Jordan) was the weakest a part of his personal movie. Consider it like this: Rocky Balboa is a lovable underdog who received’t surrender, kind of like Joe Frazier; and Apollo Creed was the charismatic showman who jabs with phrases, kind of like Muhammad Ali. Adonis Creed, who lacks a real-world analog, is like an offended teenager with daddy points. That isn’t all that compelling to me. Rocky is extra compelling right here, with Sylvester Stallone seeming to say goodbye to the franchise. The identical goes for Bianca Taylor (Tessa Thompson), who’s juggling a profession and different tasks whereas Adonis goes by means of his private disaster. I even discovered the story of Ivan and Viktor Drago (Dolph Lundgren and Florian Munteanu) extra compelling given how a lot they’ve misplaced, how strained that father-son relationship is, and possibly even how underwritten their elements had been.

I’m wondering if my disappointment stems from the screenplay, which Stallone co-wrote. I discussed above that this appears like Rocky is leaving the franchise for good, and balancing the development of Adonis’s character with the exit of Rocky Balboa is a troublesome job, particularly with how a lot plot is within the movie. With out Ryan Coogler as director, Creed II doesn’t really feel fairly as massive because it may very well be. The fights aren’t as effectively finished, the drama not as high-stakes, and whereas there are some transferring emotional highs, there are many lulls. Creed II is a by-the-numbers sequel that goes the space, by no means hitting fairly as arduous as I hoped regardless of some nice concepts to work with.

Present runtime of The 300: 31,877 minutes (22 days, three hours, 17 minutes)

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Laugh at life's turbulence!

I haven’t updated this blog for quite sometime and there have been some huge changes, challenges and in my mind, miracles. After constant worry and anguish that I would never be able to find, let alone be successful in securing a new job, I did it! I put all the fear and pessimism to the back of my mind and took the plunge! I remember being told I had an interview and fear and panic consumed me, I thought “wow this is it, this is my chance”. I grabbed it with both hands and started preparing. I spent every spare moment I had to prepare, this was it, after 14 years of emotional bullying, I had an opportunity to finally leave my job and I wanted to make damn sure it happened. I even spent an entire afternoon sat in a lovely comfy pub on my own which takes guts, to prep prep prep. My interview came round pretty quick, I was full of excitement. My interview I felt went so well I was so happy. I though to myself “this is the job I want and this is where I know I need to be”. I had to come back down to reality the next day and back into my monotonous dark and toxic job. The only thing still niggling me was the anxiety of the travel and stress of a new role potentially making my symptoms worse. How would I cope? What would I do? Give up work completely? Answer to that, no! How would I know unless I at least tried. There I was sat at my desk one dreary morning and the phone rings, “we like to offer you the role”, the words circled through my mind over and over while feeling dizzy from the adrenaline. These words I had been so desperate to hear had finally been spoken. I was in shock and on cloud nine! Then the panic set in, but no, anxiety you are not spoiling this for me. I had a 2 week holiday to Mexico to look forward to and a new job, all in the same year I also nearly succumbed to depression. Wow what a year. I had my last day at work and after 14 years you’d think they’d be happy for me, jeez was I wrong. I don’t even think they deserve the words I am typing so I won’t waste my energy explaining it. My friends however made a lovely effort with a leaving speech for me and parting gifts. That was that, I was finally free. I felt a huge weight lift off me, what a relief it was like being set free from a prisoners camp (I imagine). Back to approaching holiday, I took half a benzodiazepine prior to flying which panicked me as I thought I was having a bad reaction but I was ok after 15 mins or so. After 10 hours we landed, got our transfer and wow, I was ok! I had been feeling a lot better since taking the Prozac so was basically in remission. I was having a wonderful time, feeling happy about starting my new job and then food poisoning hits me……why me?? It ruined the rest of the holiday but didn’t affect my symptoms and got home ok with the benzodiazepine again. Don’t think I just let it go, I am still in the process of claiming back from my holiday insurance. My first day in my new job, I get the early train, I want to be on time and make a good impression! Everything is going fine, everyone is very welcoming, kind and accepting. Then a huge wave on anxiety kicks in….jeez I wasn’t expecting that. Thoughts race through my mind “what have I done, is this the right decision, I can’t go back now”….I take a calm walk, meet a friend, calm down and carry on. I get the train home, break down in tears on Mick and then pull myself together. I try again the next day, expecting my symptoms to flare up due to the stress…..but they don’t. I was going to come off the Prozac before I started but Mick assured me this was a bad decision as I wouldn’t cope, boy was he right! It took me a few months to feel settled, I have made some lovely friends there, it is a wonderful team and I feel so lucky to have landed this job. Based on past experiences I feel this was a miracle, someone up there giving me a break! But however lucky I am I still have that dark cloud visiting me from time to time, yep you guessed it….depression! I was doing so well, ok I didn’t have the best confidence but who would starting a new job with unfamiliar faces and dynamics. I persisted through it thinking “this is a blip” but gradually I realised, I have been taking Prozac for 18 months now and was on 60mg per day, which is quite high really. I decided to take matters into my own hands and went to the doctor to change them, I was prescribed venlafaxine (Effexor). With the help from my hugely supportive manager I tapered off the Prozac and started the Effexor (quick release)….after a day or 2 I was presented with a whole host of side effects, some were expected but not as intense. I had a dry mouth like I had just eaten a bag of flour, grinding teeth which caused me to feel sick and anxious. Then the heightened anxiety! I give thanks that my work are very pro wellbeing and I was able to work from home in my own surroundings whilst enduring these awful side effects. One of the days I awoke with huge terror of leaving the house, I felt paralysed laying in bed. I got up and dressed but in tears of panic. Again I worked from home, but went back to the doctor who prescribed me the one a day slow release Effexor. He had no idea why the substitute doctor had provided fast release as these cause awful side effects, so note to everyone taking Effexor for the first time, don’t get the fast release! I've now been taking this for 3 weeks and have about another 1-3 weeks to start feeling the full effects but I’m getting there with the support of family and work. I have been listening to audio books, motivational you tube clips, colouring, exercising, Netflix bingeing and getting out in the sun for walks with the dog. I also immerse myself in my work to keep me feeling motivated and I really enjoy my job so that helps. I do this all to help keep the harmony and happiness that the tablets are not giving me at the moment. You are probably wondering why I take them, I have my dream job, I should be happy right? Not quite, depression takes over even if you have everything you could possibly want as some of you more than appreciate, but I also take these to control my stress and anxiety levels because if these increase, there is a chance my symptoms will relapse or get worse if not in remission. On a separate note, after several visits (private and NHS), procedures (lumber puncture, venography) they have come to the tentative conclusion that I have narrowing of blood vessels in the brain which is causing the symptoms, I am yet to get a formal diagnosis. This is mind settling after battling for nearly 10 years however the surgery to ease this is very invasive (stent inserted to widen vessels) and comes with life changing risks or even death. This is something I need to consider and weigh up the benefits. My symptoms are stable at the moment and I am eternally grateful for that, I think the idea of MdDS got ruled out by the consultant at Cambridge Hospital as I wasn’t showing the notorious sign, rocking. I had also travelled on the train for 2 hours everyday for work and get the elevator to the 7th floor and down numerous times a day at work. No symptoms triggered? And the floor moves where I sit and this also is fine. Who knows, I’ll have to wait for the diagnosis letter but I feel I’m there. To anyone out there battling for a diagnosis or battling with acceptance, it will come. I truly believe if you accept your “new way of life” your brain accepts it and adapts. Maybe I’m just lucky but it’s been a rocky road and it has not been easy. I’ve been subjected to emotional abuse from the people who were supposed to be helping me, closed doors in my face by ignorant doctors, loss of so called friends and wanting to end my life, but you have to keep going. Keep going for you! Laugh at what life throws at you! There is always a reason for the things that happen, good or bad. The trick is, when bad things happen, try your best to take a positive from the situation. Even if it is the tiniest thing, there is a positive in there somewhere. When you start to do this, all the bad things are just a bit of life’s turbulence. You are on a plane to happiness, there is always turbulence along the way. This is what grows us. If I hadn’t gone through everything I have, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be strong willed, determined and confident. Every time life throws me a curveball, I mentally stick my middle finger up and say “Try me” not why me! Remember god gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers. Laugh at life, none of us make it out alive. Stay strong x