I feel like I need to start talking more about how one of the big things that Duck Prints Press does is open the door to people who could never even get a foot in with traditional publishing or even most medium/"small" presses (we're a small press, but we're really more of a micro-press, I see places calling themselves small presses that are fucktons bigger than we are).

I've got some anecdotal evidence that people avoid the publications of Presses like this one because they think our writing and editing standards are lower - that we're the people who failed to make it in bigger presses because we weren't good enough - and that, consciously and unconsciously, gatekeeping biases on who is and isn't qualified to write lead people to support small presses less than they might support a more established organization.

So...y'all realize that there are a lot of reasons people wouldn't pursue working with trad pub, right? and I don't even mean ethical doubts, and I don't even mean "trad pub doesn't want to publish certain kinds of stories," though those are definitely factors - we're able to give more space to play with themes and genres because we don't focus solely on "is this marketable" as a sales rubric.

But that's not what I consider the biggest difference.

Hi, I'm Claire, and I own Duck Prints Press, and I have a massive history of clinical depression, including being suicidal in the past. I'm a great writer, and I'm not just tooting my own horn, I've got almost 150,000 kudos on AO3 that suggest that just maybe, I know wtf I'm doing stringing words into sentences. I don't need a big press to tell me I'm competent, I already know that. What I do need is to not end up suicidal again. If I face the gauntlet of rejections that's supposedly "required" as part of gatekeeping trad pub, it will do severe damage to my mental health, and probably destroy my ability to write as depression-induced self-deception eats through what I know to be true.

THAT'S what's different about a micropress like ours. Yes, our founding vision was to work with fans, but the vast majority of the people who work with us have mental illnesses, physical disabilities, neurodivergence issues, and/or other "meatsuits are terrible actually" issues that strict publishing environments can't or, really, won't accommodate. We say "fuck that noise" and go out of our way to accommodate people, granting extensions and ensuring everyone can work on their own schedule. We're able to be very flexible, which means we bring in a lot of people whose incredible skills are overlooked, ignored, looked down on, kept out of, more mainstream publishing options.

If someone has trouble with deadlines? We still work with them.

If someone has an illness that flares irregularly and unpredictably? We still work with them.

If someone needs frequent reminders? We still work with them.

If someone works slowly because they can only do a little at a time? We still work with them.

If someone needs extra time, additional support, special software...we have thus far been able to accommodate literally everyone who has come to us.

As long as the creators who work with us keep communicating and keep showing at least a little progress, we will find a way to make things work, because we want to be as inclusive as possible, and because we know that most people with these challenges, no matter how good they are at writing or art or whatever it is they do with us, would face many more hardships to have these opportunities with a larger, more strict organization.

Just, every time I see indications that people think we're "less" because we're not HarperCollins or Penguin or Tor or something, I get so angry, because it shows so little understanding of how gatekeepy and especially how ableist trad pub is, and I wish more of the people who are thinking things like that would recognize that their behavior is, essentially, snobbery.

And to be clear I'm not saying "people with these challenges never get trad pubbed," that's clearly ridiculous and untrue, but I am saying, people with these challenges shouldn't have to be The Most Exceptional just to have a chance, and we deserve to have a place that will accommodate us instead of having to perform health, perform neurotypicalness, etc. just to succeed. We deserve to not have one flare-up potentially ruin our careers, and we deserve the same opportunities and respect as people who choose other directions.

Between trad pub, small press, and self-publishing, no one route is inherently "superior." Backing one over another doesn't guarantee you're only going to get good stories, or good editing. Trad pub publishes utter schlock sometimes, and self-publishing is fantastic sometimes, and some small presses do have lax standards, and some small presses are exceptional, and I feel like maybe people just really don't understand why places like Duck Prints Press try to exist - it's because we're trying to create spaces that meet us where we are, instead of focusing on rigid conformity, marketability, hard rules, etc.

The only way we'll get a diversity of voices in publishing is by supporting a diversity of publishers. The only way we'll be able to make space for everyone is by supporting the places that carve out new spaces to fit those who didn't fit elsewhere.

I wish more people would understand what we do and why we're here, and that folks would at least try our publications before assuming that we're "like big press but worse at writing/arting/editing."

Idk. I'm just tired, and sick, and still working even tho I'm sick, and frustrated with how hard it is to get anywhere, so here, have a rant I probably shouldn't post.

(this post brought to you by me seeing Chuck Tingle - entirely reasonably, to be clear, Chuck Tingle is awesome and I support him entirely! - celebrating the Camp Damascus release to thousands of notes, and Tor posting a poll about some Locked Tomb short story and getting 1300+ votes, and how I have to claw our way out of the background tumblr noise to get 100+ notes even on our biggest releases)

Typical Day for a Mall Cop

My name's Bill, and I've been a guard at the mall for almost a decade now. It wasn't my dream job, but life has a way of creeping up on you with kids and a mortgage. I needed something to pay the bills, and I've always had a knack for watching over people.

Like any other weekend, the mall is fairly busy, so I stay on my feet and patrol the halls for most of the day. Occasionally, I'll check in with the other mall cop, but my time is mostly filled with watching shoppers come and go. If anybody gets too rowdy, a stern look is enough to keep them in line.

A lot of the time, teenagers will loiter in stores. Some of them even try and bring their skateboards in, but it isn't too hard to make them adhere to the mall's strict policies. They might be young and clueless, but that doesn't mean I'll cut them any breaks.

Over by the fountain, I see one of the boys I admonished a week ago. I think I caught him shoplifting or something. Thieves normally get banned from the mall, but I didn't do that with this one. He said something that completely caught me off guard; he said he could hypnotize me.

I laughed in his face.

Amused inwardly by the boy's foolish claim, I walk over to check in with him. I'm sure he'll remember the security guard that almost kicked him out of the mall last weekend.

The kid is chatting with his friends, but they fall quiet when they notice me looming behind them. Like we'd discussed last week, I drop to my knees and kneel in front of the troublemaker. He explained that this is the best thing for me to do when I see him around, and I can't help but agree. I know the boy deserves my respect.

I plant a kiss on both of his sneakers, and then wait for him to speak first. It takes a minute because he and his friends are busy cracking up over some unspoken joke. Whatever it is, clearly went right over my head.

"How you doin', mall pig?" the boy laughs.

I smirk at the nickname he's given me. We've gotten in the habit of calling each other by these pseudonyms, and I don't mind it.

"Very good, sir," I answer, using the name I've come to associate him with, "How are you?"

"Fine, I guess," he shrugs, "I spent your cash on kicks for my crew."

That reminds me of last week again. The boy had made it seem like a good idea to give him all the money I had, which included the paycheck I'd earned for last pay period. On the ground, I had a close view of all the vibrant sneakers the teenagers were wearing. It was nice to know he'd put my gift to good use, even if my wife had been pissed that I'd come home without my month's salary.

"You have another check for me, fat ass?"

His friends laugh at his new nickname for me, but I shake my head and answer a solemn, "No, sir."

The teenager groans and leads his gang of friends away, already bored with me. It seems like he's just going to leave me there, kneeling in the middle of the mall, until he turns and beckons me to follow. Inwardly, I'm glad that he's not done with me yet. I've come to enjoy our interactions a lot.

I follow the boys, crawling behind them all the way into a bathroom.

"If you ain't got any cash to keep me and my crew entertained, then you're gonna have to do something to make us laugh," he explains.

"Of course, sir!" I smile, trying to express how willing I am to impress him and his friends.

"We'd find it hilarious if you dunked your head in each toilet," he adds blandly.

I light up. He's just explained how I can be of service and now all I have to do is follow through. I'm sure it'd be hilarious for them to watch a fully grown security guard giving himself a few swirlies. That's peak comedy!

"Watch this, sir!" I laugh, crawling over to the first toilet and shoving my face into the water without any hesitation.

I know the guy that's supposed to clean these bathrooms, and it's obvious he slacks off because there are skid marks all over. I try not to think about it as my cheeks and forehead brush against the bottom of the bowl. When I pull my face out of the flushing toilet, my ears pop and hear a roar of laughter behind me. The kids find it hilarious, which only fuels my desire to keep going.

With a gaping grin, I shuffle over to the next stall and repeat. There are six toilets in the men's restroom. Some are cleaner than others. The last one is a clogged mess, and the boys find it hilarious when I come up with toilet paper plastered to my face. I laugh through it all, even if the urge to puke is growing.

By the time I'm done, I'm soaked in toilet water, and the teenagers are in tears.

"Alright, toilet guy. That was disgusting," the leader of the pack chuckles, grimacing in my direction, "You have a car or something?"

"Yes, sir. I've got a minivan in the parking lot."

"A minivan?" he seems disappointed, "Hand over the keys anyway. We wanna drive around."

"You got it, sir," I say, fishing the fob out of my damp pockets.

He swipes the keys out of my hand eagerly and turns to leave the bathroom. I start to follow the boys out, but he stops me.

"Why don't you stay in here 'till you dry off," he snorts, "You can spend that time in the corner, thinking about what you can do for me next time I'm at the mall."

"Yes, sir," answer, and the boys leave.

Briefly, the thought of getting back to work crosses my mind. I really should be out there keeping an eye on the vendors and their merchandise, but that goes away. Like suggested, I stare at the dirty tile wall and begin to brainstorm what I can do for the boy the next time I see him.

My walkie goes off now and then with the voice of my coworker wondering where I am, but I ignore it.

After an hour or so, I've dripped mostly dry, but a strong stink still lingers around my head. Still, I've come up with a few different things I could have ready next week. It'll take some overtime to make extra cash for the boy. My wife won't be happy about that, but it'll give me a chance to actually have cash ready for him when he asks for it.

The only other thing I have to offer is the perks of my job. Maybe his friends and him would like a tour of the security office? I'd give them free reign of everything in the confiscated bin.

Speaking of my job, I should probably get back. My partner is probably angry at me for not answering the radio. He'll be happy when I tell him I'll take the late shift for the next few days. Hopefully he won't say anything about the smell. God, it's awful!

Just another day working as a mall cop!

I managed to completely forget I posted goals on Tumblr last January (I knew it was on a Discord, where I was pointedly ignoring it since...yeah. well. about that.) but I found it while looking for something else, and I might as well take a glance back.

Goals I set for 2022:

Personal Goals from 2022:

Get My Back Fixed: victory, to the extent that victory was possible. I had back surgery on Feb 7th, and that fixed the primary issue (spinal stenosis caused by a herniated disc). My arthritis still exists and flares every couple months but my doc already told me that's just gonna be the rest of my life. Since that part isn't fixable...well, at least the surgery helped.

Keep Losing Weight: I was up and down throughout the year, and ended up pretty much exactly where I started, at about 180.

Exercise: I maintained a regular stretching/exercise regimen, including a fair amount of walking and even a little jogging, from March through November. I slipped in November, but I started again last week, so...yeah.

Study Chinese: almost 100% success! At least I didn't fall down in every regard, lmao. I study for about 45 minutes every day, across 3 apps. I finished Duolingo's core curriculum and have a streak of over 450 days going atm. I bought a year subscription to DuChinese so I could practice reading and it's really helping my vocabulary. I didn't manage to do much of any translation but eh, I'll take it.

Community Goals from 2022:

Encourage Others to Create: I ran May Trope Mayhem again, and really stepped up the creation/publishing end of my business. I'll take it. I didn't manage to do anything with the kink memes and I've been waffling on just shutting them down tbh.

Keep Up the Destiel Archive: basically a complete fail. Like, the archive still exists and I answer asks and DMs and send people stuff but I've done basically zero upkeep/expansion/work on it.

Duck Prints Press: we managed 3 anthologies (two are technically not published yet but they will be in like a week and a half and all the work was done in 2022 so I'll count it). We didn't manage a novel, but we did publish a novella and like 20 short stories, so I'll call it a win.

Creative Goals from 2022:

Post Every Day: I managed about two weeks, and haven't written anything for myself since June, so yeah, uh. Yeah.

Work on WIP: nope

Make Progress on The Long Road: ...I thought about it on and off, does that count?

Post One Art Piece a Month: I might have technically actually succeeded at this? but not in way I know I intended when I set the goal and honestly, whatever.

Fibercraft: I didn't manage to cosplay anything - we don't really have the money - but I've definitely been doing fibercraft. I did a mess of crocheting last winter (and need to finish those projects now that it's cold again), and I did a lot of cross stitch over the summer and fall, and I'm currently working on a quilted wall hanging, so. Yeah. I'd call this one a success.

So...definitely a mixed bag. My kids ended up needing a lot more of me than I was expecting, especially over the summer and fall when I'd expected things to ease up, so that didn't help. And the business growing is just eating the entire rest of my life. I've definitely semi-intentionally decided to give up on some of the side projects and step back. Like, I don't like that I'm not doing anything on the Destiel archive, but I've basically come to accept it and I don't expect it to change. In my post last year, I wrote "I sacrificed a lot of my personal creative goals to make the business a success and ya know, I'm basically okay with it." And that really resonates, cause I'd absolutely say the same thing is true of this year. The business IS doing well - we earned more money than last year, and from far more diversified sources. I didn't earn enough to take a paycheck...again...but we're also less in the hole for 2022 than we were for 2021, and it really truly feels like things are moving in a good direction and that the work I'm putting in is accomplishing something. 2023 looks bright in that regard.

I'm honestly trying to move away from big declarative ambitious goals. They just make me feel like I've failed. So I haven't put tons of thought into my 2023 beyond "keep doing the things I'm doing that are working, and try to add in a few things that I haven't been succeeding at but would like to. So, with this entire post plus that in mind, my goals for 2023 are...

Personal Goals

Continue Exercising: I slipped on exercise in November and December. It was definitely doing me good before that so I'd like to keep it up. My goals for a while have been 10 to 20 minutes of stretching/Yoga/floor exercises 5 or 6 days a week, and a minimum of 2,000 steps a day every day, and I hit that very consistently until mid-November, so I think I can resume it now that the holidays are over and the kids are heading back to school on Wednesday.

Study Chinese: just. keep it up. I'd really like to work on a translation project this year. I've been eyeing the Tian Guan Ci Fu manhua (I own volume one in print), continuing my translation of the 2ha manhua (which is online), and/or poking at the Lie Huo Jiao Chou manhua, which is on the Bilibili app and has been taunting me from my favorited comics for ages. But if I just spend another year like I spent 2022, drilling HSK 1 through 3 until I've got them down pat and continuing the slow vocab expansion through DuChinese, I'll take it. It's getting the job done.

Community Goals

Figure out what to keep up and what to step back from: I really haven't been able to do a good job on everything, and I've put some balls down and can't say I'm terribly interested in picking them back up. I'd like to make more of that official in 2023, so I don't feel like I'm being pulled in as many directions, and so that the changes feel intentional and therefore More Okay instead of semi-accidental and accepted with resignation.

Art Sideblog Goals: I'm pretty behind on maintenance of cnovelartreblogs especially; I'd like to really get that organized, and to finally launch the Discord I've been building on-and-off for almost a year. I'd also like to get my backlog of things to blog under 10k, but honestly that's probably ambitious. I had it down a lot this year, but it's surged up since the twitterpocalypse and the holidays (though I'm still well ahead of where I was at the start of 2022, so that's something).

Duck Prints Press:

have 4 anthologies in the works (we already have two in the works for 2023; I expect those two to publish, and I'd like us to have 2 more in the pipeline even though they likely won't publish until 2024)

publish at least 52 short stories (a minimum of one a week)

publish at least 4 novels (I've got two in progress so I'm pretty optimistic on this one)

$40k+ in gross earnings

take a paycheck (even if it's only for royalties on sales of my own work)

publish one story a month of my own work

Creative Goals

Read 12 Books for Leisure: I set this goal in 2022 and while I technically hit it (Goodreads says I read like 70-something books), I only actually read 11 novel-length books because I wanted to. The rest was either manhua, or stuff I read for the Press. So, I've set my Goodreads goal as 72 works, with the understanding that at least 52 will be those short stories I'll edit, and I'm also considering signing up for a book bingo that a friend participates in on Dreamwidth. I don't think I'll have trouble meeting this goal tbh; even if I just read the Seven Seas danmei pubs, which I absolutely intend to, I'll probably hit it (considering I'm several volumes behind on both MDZS and TGCF...). Even if I don't, I'll be close like last year.

Write Something Each Week: I made a list of prompts for myself and ships I want to write for, and I want to try to write something for each prompt each week (in whatever order). Even if I don't finish a single one of them. Even if I hate it all. I just want to keep going on it. I also want to write one short story suitable for publication each month, probably pwp kink fic. (Week 1 is Hualian/were-creature, and I did work out an idea I don't hate...)

Fibercraft: I started blankets for the kids last winter; I'd like to finish at least one of them. And just. Keep making things. It's good for my brain. Much better than the like 6 weeks I spent this year rotting my brain with Merge Dragons at night. *sweat drop*

Anyway, I wouldn't say any of these are resolutions, since most of it is stuff that's already going on. It's really more "I've got the boat sailing the direction I want, now let's just...keep that up..."

Also, it'd be really nice to not be fucking exhausted all the time. That'd help. Just saying. *weary sigh*

I'm going in anonymous, but I figured I'd take you question by question as that helps my brain to keep on task

Why do i love who i love? What is it like loving men, women, both, or neither? pt 1 Well, I'm under the Ace/Aro umbrella, and some of it is due to my own ambivalence to love and people in romantic or sexual perceptions, and some of it is due to events in my life that I will not be expunging here just because I've barely trusted those events to my friends, let alone strangers on the internet. pt 2 Honestly, I'm having a hard time due to a lack of irl friends and a lack of knowledge of where and how to meet new people safely. But generally, I don't feel a need to have a partner in my life, and generally enjoy my life without a partner.

What is it like, living as a woman, a man, as neither? I'm AFAB, identifying as Nonbinary, or maybe Agender or Gender Apathetic. The point is, my gender isn't something I care about much. However, growing up AFAB has made it where being out at night is rife with paranoia. I have a pocket knife that I keep open most nights I bike home. I don't even consider where I live to be bad, it's just too risky to be AFAB, alone at night, anywhere. I'm equally paranoid of everyone I encounter, whether they're AFAB, AMAB, or other. Anyone is dangerous, thanks to the plethora of crimes they can do against a physically weak AFAB walking/biking alone at night. Generally though, life is pretty typical. I don't really run into sexism in my workplace, from my coworkers or my customers, and on the whole, I don't consider being AFAB to affect my ability to earn a paycheck equal to my coworkers or to progress in my career. I just don't want to be promoted or anything at this time.

What is it like living poor, or living rich? I grew up in a poor household. Prior to my dad and mom divorcing, my life was normal, to my knowledge. I had two loving (though debating the merits of using that term thanks to the abuse I suffered during that time and after has taken much of my mind power in the last few years) parents, and got gifts from them and my extended family. I didn't like my sibling, but that was due to me being 6-7 years old by the time the sibling made their appearance in my life, which was a long time of being the only kid before everything changed and I had no choice or say in the changes. However, when I was about 8-9, everything changed with the divorce. Growing up with my dad, we lived paycheck to paycheck, I often was turned down for many things I wanted, and christmas and birthday gifts were often postponed because of the lack of proper money. I made a friend in high school who was middle class, or rich to my perspective, and I often felt jealous. She could go to market of choice and get sushi every day, while I had to use the free lunches of my school, and only occasionally buy burgers from the nearby Mcdonalds or Dairy Queen. Growing up poor aches when you're old enough to understand, and my dad didn't help by venting about our money issues to an 8-9 year old me. I still struggle with checking my bank account due to stress, and still struggle with either splurging once I have a surplus, or aggressively squirreling the money and trying to pretend I don't have money with which to splurge (even when I do)

What is it like to live as a white person? I will only comment on this as I am white, but personally I don't know what to say. My life has been average, but I haven't necessarily had an easy life just because of my skin color. The issue between skin color has appeared more recently in my workplace with customers. I work in a store under a corporate brand, let's call them Small-Mart. I work the Self-Check area more often, which requires me to watch transactions to make sure customers scan everything, and I do it equally to everyone because my job is to make sure shrink doesn't leave the store. I couldn't care less that you're black, white, hispanic, or anything in between. If you scan everything, I will barely glance at you. If you struggle with scanning some items, I'm more likely to say "it seems the item didn't get scanned, our machines are finicky at best, you know how it is" If the item is scanned, then the issue is finished and I don't continue fucking with people, though I may continue a light hearted small talk if I've found something in common. I've had black people imply myself as racist for doing my job, and had other people complain about me hovering when I haven't been hovering, or if I was hovering, it was because I was doing my job. I believe that whatever skin color doesn't matter, I'll respect you as a person with an identity I don't know if you do the same. Why should I judge someone based on arbitrary characteristics they were born with? It'd be like assuming someone blind is actually helpless, or someone autistic is mentally brain dead. Neither assumption helps anyone, so why do it?

What is it like to live with a crippling medical condition? An injury? A physical or mental disability? pt 1/3 I don't know if this counts, but I was born with mild-to-moderate hearing loss that leaves me reliant on hearing aids to perform most normal things. I have a small range I can hear in, but most of the sounds of human speech or the world are outside of the range I can hear. It's generally okay. I can't shower with my hearing aids in, or sleep with them in, I have to buy hearing aid batteries fairly often, and occasionally I have to go to an audiologist to take care of the hearing aids or update my prescription as needed, or get new hearing aids. When I was younger, kids would ask me what it was like being deaf. I asked them what it was like being capable of hearing. I do not remember having the ability to hear, I was born like this, this is my normal. To explain it would be to explain to a sociopath what emotions feel like. It's hard, because you're having to explain a thing you have always known, with no metric for comparison. I recognize my hearing aids are different, but to me they're just another part of my daily routine, a tool I use to get close to matching normal hearing.

I have to send a second part, so this is part 1, and I'll sign off as: ~ Abyss Anon

Part 1

—————

Thank you so much for sharing! The questions were more as examples and general prompts to get people thinking, they weren’t required if you wanted to share something else, but I understand your method! That’s smart actually, I didn’t consider people answering multiple questions at a time like that, but that’s rather convenient all things considered.

Don’t worry about your hearing loss counting or not! There is no qualifying basis, you are free to tell me about anything under the sun, you can answer all or one or any of my questions, or you can share something I didn’t think of when making my list, all I want is to hear your perspective and your story. So once more, thank you for sharing <3

I mentioned recently that my cat went through a sudden emergency that wound up costing me a few thousand dollars.

For a couple of weeks, it wasn't clear if he was going to fully recover. As it turns out, by buying him special prescription food that costs me about $5/day, he's doing much better now.

It sucks. I'm not happy that it's so expensive to feed him and keep him healthy. But that's how it is, and it can't possibly last forever. Since he turns 14 this month, it probably won't last more than a couple more years, frankly. But who knows. That's what I said about my other cat, who's been on slightly less expensive prescription food since January. She's 17, going to turn 18 at the end of the year.

They're both very old, and it's now costing me over $200/month just for food. It's absurd. I'm unhappy about it. I'm going to keep spending it just as long as they're both alive, because the alternative is to have them put down them for being expensive.

Which is what I'll do if either of them winds up requiring another surgery, because, while I can do my best to budget around $200/month for food, I simply can't afford another trip to the emergency clinic like I had in August.

This is where, if I had enough readers to justify it, I'd put a donation link where you could send me money. But it'd be to keep my cats alive. To cover my pet expenses. It'd feel wrong for me to ask for money for that, so I won't.

And yes, that does mean I feel a little conflicted about it when I see other people post those kinds of donation links. "Help me cover funeral expenses for my dog," that kind of thing. I just can't justify it. I know that pets are family members to a lot of people, and they're family members to me, too, but, in my case and only in my case, I feel that I'm the one who decided to take on the responsibility of pet ownership. I don't know the details of anyone else's case, so I'm just left wondering.

But, well, for now, both cats are doing alright, and, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to budget and save and be back to where I want to be in a few more months. November is one of two months in the year when I get three paychecks, so that'll help a lot.

We'll see what happens. I've been trying to find ways to earn more money this year, and, because I work in IT and tens of thousands of other IT workers were laid off at the start of the year, it simply hasn't happened yet. Maybe it'll happen soon. Who knows.

Or maybe, in a couple of years when I finish my book, I'll be able to start raking in that sweet, sweet passive income that I keep hearing about. I doubt it, though! I really, really doubt it!

That's enough of a life update for now. I'd like to get back to writing about writing again soon. My ad-supported Amazon Fire Tablet really pushed a book on me hard called Zodiac Academy: The Awakening, which I was able to download for no additional cost because I have some Kindle membership, and I made it about four pages in before the author's fixation on the first-person narrator's butt and their absolutely fucking awful punctuation (an inability to use commas, mainly) made me decide to stop reading. I'm not sure if I want to actually write about that or not, but I'm thinking about it.

I guess the series must be doing well, though. There are like ten books in the series? A lot of people must not give a shit about their authors being good at writing, which isn't shocking, but it is a bit sad for someone like me, who does.

I mean, just, like, hire a fucking proofreader. They're out there. They exist. Might even lead to enough additional copies of the books being sold to pay for the cost of it.

Okay. That's enough of everything for now.

Oh wow, do some of us have jobs?

Oooooh, my biscuits are on FIRE, I'm so fucking mad right now.

((Oh! Oooh ooh! Look at this!!! I cad add cuts!!!))

It's fine. This will be fucking behind me in literally just a couple days.

This time was not a waste of my time or my life. I learned a quantum leap worth of money skills and life choices. I learned how to be stable all on my own and how to build a great rental history. I've even built my own credit.

I tried to teach my spouse how to be a better roommate, how to not get evicted for living in a garbage can, and it really is their loss that they like to live in near-squalor. I can wish all I'd like, as hard as I can, that this ex had just been honest with me "I like living in filth; I will not clean up after myself; I expect you to clean up after me", but I can't read minds. I can't force people to be honest--even with themselves.

It is not my fault that my ex did not want to be in this relationship.

It is not my fault that my ex spent the entire relationship trying to grind me down so that I would give over to what they wanted.

It may partly be my fault that my ex targeted me for my shit self-esteem and not even pretending that I value and respect myself. But another thing this relationship has reinforced for me. I'm going to therapy, I'm going to resume doing the work after this move. I am going to be a better person, one foot in front of the other, one day at a time. It is not my responsibility to hold my ex to the same fire. Once they are out of my life, their lack of humanity is not my problem. Their cruelty is not my problem or my responsibility.

It is not my fault that this person did not like our respect me enough to compromise on things that I continued to insist and reiterate that were important to me.

It is not my fault I was a rebound and I was not valued by this person. This breakup has caused me to see that I am valued, and I deserve to value myself.

The cool thing is, I can totally sit on my ass all day and still earn a paycheck. Using my newfound money skills, I can still take my vacation to Omega Mart and get souvenirs and everything. Every last dime is now fully my responsibility. I decide how often I order or go out to eat. I decide how and what I'm investing into my home. I decide how and what I'm investing into my hobbies and pleasure and recreation.

I will figure out the fertility situation for my goddamn self. I was all but a full-time babysitter and nanny from the time I was seven years old. I learned more than I wanted or should have been learning then, and as a child, I already knew ways I didn't like being treated by adults. As an adult, I've been absorbing better parenting methods and techniques.

No one well ever convince me that I will be an awful parent. Not even people who could never fucking imagine the childhood I survived. My child will never be neglected, and my child will never be verbally abused or torn down. My child's body will be their own. I'm not afraid of being a parent. I have no reason to fear being a parent.

I do have reason to fear being stuck in this eternal cycle of abusive partners who will gaslight me and then yell at me about gaslighting them. Partners who refuse to compromise or show me that they actually love, treasure, cherish, value me. Not just their vision of me, their fantasy.

I am an adult, attempting to date adults. Unfortunately, not everyone old enough to live without their parents should be. I am not a substitute parent to adults. I don't have the energy to take care of other adults.

I was so fucking stupid for trusting my money to a liar, a suspicious, hate-filled person. Liars lie, and that's all they know how to do. Lie, take advantage of people, use them for all they're worth, and move on to the next, higher-value target. Every time I'm lied to and use just hardens me against the next person, and maybe this is a personal fault. And I guess I lied too. I never loved this person. I kind of wanted to, eventually. Every time I let them talk, they drove me away. Every time I tried to metaphorically trust fall into their arms, they failed me. My loss, is that I never followed my gut and rescinded what little trust had already been extended.

A Thousand Blinking Hazard Lights

1,300 words, ~4.5 mins to read

A shining endorsement of public transportation. A woman experiences imminent planetary demise on her commute to work.

I heard once that "may you live in interesting times" was a Greek curse but I didn't quite understand why. Not when I was younger, at least. Shouldn't we all want variety after all? Shouldn't we all lean in to change? Now, I wonder if we can only dare to desire what comes pre-packaged, shiny, and new. Is the real variety to despise such norms? Is it selfish to feel like I deserve more than a life of consumption until I can no longer produce?

I think about these things while I commute to work. The drive is about an hour, depending on traffic. I'd like to live closer, but I can't afford it. My job pays well enough, almost three times above $7.25. But anyone who's lived in poverty can tell you that poverty is a hole you have to pour a lot of money into before you earn the right to climb out. I've never had the ambition to climb out over anyone else.

I think about the poverty hole sometimes, while I commute. How much money I pour in to stay on top. What fraction of my paycheck goes to gas and car maintenance, inspection and registration and repair? How many hours of work- hours of my life- is it to get take-out for lunch? Why are those hours of life worth more than the hours of those who hand my coffee to me?

Sometimes I wonder what the other people on the highway are thinking about. Are they commuting too? Do they know I'm a person and not a car?

I question, whenever someone tries merging into me, where they're going that's worth putting both our lives on the line. It's wild to consider that my entire life is worth five minutes of saved time. Is that the same as corporations cutting corners for five extra minutes? Or for twenty extra bucks? I've always figured it's the same mindset.

The people that whip in and out of lanes are insisting that I rely on their skills. Really, they are trusting that I will keep a consistent speed. The people who ride my ass on an empty highway rely on me for the same thing.

Sometimes, it's easier to believe that the people who drive like that forget that I'm a person- instead of a car. Though, it is hard to think that I'm little more than an obstacle to the people who share in my misery.

I fantasize regularly that we all just get fed up and stop some day. The highway devoid of cars. Or a highway of stopped cars. With the few determined driving on the grass to make it to their destination.

At least I live in a place with seasons. Snow may be awful to drive in, but at least the scenery changes. Even if I can't stop to admire the views, seeing trees and mountains on my way is nice.

In summer, there is a part of the highway that borders a field that blooms with wildflowers. I don't know what they are but they bloom in white, purple, and pink. I wouldn't be able to see that on a subway. That's what I tell myself, anyway. Really, I'd rather have the subway. If I didn't have to drive to work, I'd have the time and money for flowers.

I wonder what the drivers around me would do with time and money. The hobbies they would cultivate if they weren't driving in the breakdown lane to reach their exit.

I complain and all, but I know the pressure that the pace of modern life puts on us. I'd like to think that we'd all be a little more considerate, if we all just had the time.

The sun isn't usually up on my way to work. In winter, the sun has set before I make my way back. Seeing the moon is nice, but I really hurt for sun come February.

The moon that hung above the dark tree line was just shy of full.

I put my directional on, ready to exit the highway. Unusual for my exit to have a line at this hour. I slowed to a stop, resting at the mouth of the off-ramp. The light at the end turned red.

I looked up at the moon absently.

For a moment, I thought I was seeing things.

I couldn't believe it, even as I watched. The radio played an emergency signal but it barely registered between the low volume and my astonishment.

Something hit the moon. Something big enough to be seen with the naked eye. There was no sound. For barely half a second, I saw it.

The moon was hit. Mostly from behind, at an angle.

I vaguely heard the radio playing the emergency tone again.

For a couple seconds, the world was still and quiet. The line off the highway inched forward. Behind me, traffic on the highway started to slow.

The side of the moon that faced us fractured. The cracks began to widen immediately.

Highway traffic continued to slow. The line in front of me had stopped.

Stunned with disbelief, I turned my radio up.

"- unknown origin. The size and velocity of the object was recorded scarcely minutes before collision. The impact of this event is expected to be global. If the scattered lunar debris are small enough, humanity may survive this calamity."

I turned the radio off before the emergency tone played again.

The person in front of me turned their hazard lights on. I followed suit. It felt right to do. We're all tired, probably.

Some people had gotten out of their cars to stand vigil for our increasingly fractured moon.

I stepped out of my still-running car into the damp and chilly morning air. The wind picked up.

I wondered, idly, if I should call my manager to tell him I would be late. The moon continued expanding, soundlessly. I'd be more than late. Should I call to tell him I wouldn't be there at all? Neither felt quite right.

Most people had stepped out of their cars and watched our moon fall apart in silence. Pieces ominously reaching for the tree line.

Some people were on their phones. Some were crying quietly. Some were crying loudly. Some were looking up in desolate silence.

I heard from someone's open window that humanity was not likely to survive. I heard through an open door that the stock market crashed. I heard the emergency tone again, layered many times over.

I got back into my car. I left my hazards on. Except for the gentle clicking of lights on and off, I sat in silence. I watched the moon. To my surprise, I found myself filling steadily with anger.

My stomach growled. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning.

Someone behind me started driving up on the grass beside the off-ramp. I watched them make their way up to the red light at the intersection of the main road. Still on the grass, they waited obligingly for the light to turn green. Quite considerate of them, given these circumstances.

I sat in the line of cars and watched a thousand blinking hazard lights in my rearview. I wondered how many hazard lights must be blinking and clicking and beeping all over the world right now.

I watched the asteroids that were once the moon grow ever-closer, half obscured by the tree line. None of the lunar chunks looked very survivable.

I couldn't keep processing my shock over my rising anger.

I've spent twenty two years of my life feeling like I'm running out of time just to face the actual end of days hungry and alone on a highway full of people.

I thumped my head back against the headrest and sighed shakily, resigned.

My stomach growled again.

I re-considered calling my manager. Just to have someone to call.

hi anna dear, i'd like to place an order for a white wine + charcuterie board + french onion soup + monte cristo? thank you <3

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Wordcount: 1.4K

Genre: Fluff, Romance, strangers to lovers

Rating: GP (general public)

This is for my sweet Beezy, and Beezy only. I’m sorry this came super late but I’ve been keeping it in my drafts for a while, I was so unsure about it!

Happy very late birthday!!! May you be safe and happy and loved 🥰💜✨You’re the most special aunt I could ever wish for. This world would be a better place if all kids on the Internet could have an aunt half as special and magical as you.

(before I leave you to your gift let me thank @hobiandsprite and @joheunsaram for their moral support and helpful advice, as always. I love you.)

Enjoy 💜✨

>This drabble was a request for Bangtan Bistro. Requests for this drabble game are now closed<

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of stress due to work; briefest mention of family loss (grandparent).

————— The Order —————

White Wine: Kim Seokjin

Charcuterie Board: Romance

French Onion Soup: “After getting caught in the rain you decide to spend some time inside a rather empty café, making good conversation with the attractive owner.”

Monte Cristo: cafe owner

————————————————

The late October day looked perfect for a walk along the beach, collecting seashells and watching seagulls soar the sky in the distance. Solitary boats broke the horizon, far far away, the lighthouse culminating the long walk and protecting the bay a few kilometres ahead of you. The sun was coming through the clouds here and there, creating amusing patterns on the sand just barely slightly moved by the wind. A man was playing fetch with a golden retriever and along the seashore you could see more people making good use of one of the last good days before autumn finally started giving way to winter.

The scenery was relaxing, liberating your mind from all the stress your job continuously put you through. Some days you even dared ask yourself if the slightly fatter paycheck was really worth your mental health.

Spending your health on earning money sounded stupid most of the days. Nevertheless, you somehow managed to keep loving your job, even when the cons heavily outweigh the pros.

A chill song was playing through your earbuds, and with a cloud momentarily hiding the sun, the lightest raindrops began to fall. You didn’t let the thin drizzle scare you and decided to keep walking, the lighthouse too tempting in its romantic solitude.

Stubborn and maybe ignorant, you persevered, though most people had already run to the middle of the bay, where most people had parked their cars or had found refuge in one of the local pubs and cafés. Only a couple people walked ahead of you, going all the way to the end of the walk, where the pier led to your destination.

You followed it like a compass, like the North Star, even when the drizzle turned in rain, even when you had to hold your coat over your head for the last two hundred metres, running desperately once the rain turned in an autumn shower.

You thanked all the gods once you reached the small awning protecting the entrance to the lighthouse, a lovely bell announcing the opening of the door.

“Hold on, wait there!” A man called from the counter. “Lemme grab something for you!” he mumbled, disappearing behind the dark wood countertop and reemerging with a plaid blanket. “Wait there,” he said, walking towards you quickly and taking your raincoat with a kind smile, hanging it out of harm’s way, where it could drip on the floor without causing anyone to slip and fall.

“Welcome to The Bow, you brave traveller!” the barman greeted you, immediately warming up your soul before offering you the blanket and letting you warm your body. “Please, sit where you prefer, I’ll let you take a look at the menu and then I’ll come collect your order.”

He bowed his head slightly, your eyes suddenly focusing on how low the wooden ceiling was, and how lean his physique was, heavily contrasted by his large shoulders, emphasised by the white and blue stripes of his sweater.

You walked to a table beside the counter, near the window that ran all around the circular room. The sky was clear in the distance, the boats still navigating peacefully while the coast had become hostage to the sudden storm, which had crept in slowly and then swiftly attacked.

You stared in the distance for a while longer, the man at the counter waiting patiently and cheerfully for you to get comfortable, leaf through the menu and close it before turning to him with a kind smile — which you eventually did, causing an unexpected effect, an entire flock of butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

He was drawn to you immediately.

“So what can I bring you?” he asked with the most courteous of smiles.

You giggled. The man was very handsome, but something in the air that surrounded him made him even warmer and more fascinating, as if compelling you to be kind and keep your eyes on him. “First, let me thank you for the blanket,” you said, holding it tighter around you.

“Oh, it’s okay. We keep those for old couples who come here for fall and winter walks. They tend to get cold on their legs. And some ladies want to wear pretty clothes on dates but then get cold once the sun goes down. Don’t worry, I wash them after use!” he clarified before you could get uncomfortable.

“That’s so considerate!” you exclaimed, honestly touched at such a kind thought.

“What can I say, I care about customer care,” he chuckled embarrassed, his laugh so unique and funny that you couldn’t help but join.

“I’m ____, by the way.”

“I’m Seokjin,” he introduced himself politely.

“Happy to meet you,” you replied with an interested smile. “May I order an Orange Spiced Hot Chocolate?”

“Yes, sure. Would you like some cinnamon on it?” he asked, twice as interested in pleasing his special customer.

“Uhm… No, just a plain one, thanks,” you confirmed, watching him leave with a quick step.

“Do you have many people coming all the way here?” you asked, your table close enough to the counter that you could chat with the man without having to disturb the other customers.

“Normally we do. There’s always a big rush in summer. Some people go to the beach and come all the way here to have lunch or grab a cold drink before going back. It’s mostly couples, or families with kids. On a summer day you’d have to wait for a table and book one for lunch or dinner. When it gets colder, some people still come here, but it’s slower. I prefer it. Winter weekends are the ideal match of calm and good money.”

You nodded. “I think it’s my first time here. I visited the town four or five years ago but I don’t remember this place.”

Seokjin nodded, the cocoa maker making a bit of a ruckus as it warmed up the milk. It lasted around two or three minutes before the café went quiet again “Yes, that’s because I opened the café two years ago, almost three.”

“This is your place?” You asked, quite amused.

“Indeed. My grandpa loved it here. He always came here with my grandma for walks. He didn’t have the money to buy the place but he wanted to open a restaurant here. My grandmother loved cooking.” Seokjin gave a gentle but sad smile. “When she left us, he gave up. He always says it was their dreams, together, and he would never do it by himself. So I made it my dream.”

The blue vibe faded and a radiant expression sparked up his features. “I must say that for now it’s been going pretty well.”

He walked to your table, your drink, sugar and a couple smaller bottles all balanced on a tray on his hand.

As he stood beside you, his head slightly lowered to avoid the lamp above, he placed down a cup coaster with a vintage lifebuoy ring drawn on it, protecting the beautiful wooden table below.

On the small placemat running across the table, he placed three tiny bottles. “Sugar, cinnamon and cocoa. To your liking.” He offered you a soft grin.

Hesitantly, you looked around again. He had only four or five people around and your table was close to the counter.

You licked your lips as you gathered all your courage and spoke. “Would you like to sit down and chat? I’d like to get to know you, you seem a very interesting person.” You felt heat radiate from your cheeks in stark contrast with the cold crawling through your bones.

Seokjin’s reaction was lovely.

His mouth curled up in a lovely pout, a small surprised ‘o’. His eyes went impossibly wide and so, so round and adorable before his suddenly pale face exploded in a technicoloured blush that expanded all the way to his ears.

And then he smiled the tiniest, most innocent smile. He didn’t show his teeth, just his rosy, plush lips curving up in an expression that was half hamster, half alpaca.

And the apples of his cheeks became impossibly round and squishable.

You felt your heart shot across your chest like a crazy bouncy ball, playing pinball inside your rib cage.

Joy filled your every blood vessel.

“Sure, I’d love to sit down and chat for a bit.”

Vent post

Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in a fever dream. Every morning I wake up with an anxiety attack 'cause when I was working from home last year the first thing I had to do in the morning was to run and frantically check if anything has gone to shit (it frequently did). I quit my job at the start of July. I still wake with anxiety attacks.

All smells are fucked up after covid and show no signs of going back to normal. I got tragically used to everything having at least a tint of shitty smell, made peace with never feeling the real smell of my favorite foods again. Fresh bedding smells horribly. Takes away the whole enjoyment of a clean bed. Party-pooper.

I'm running low on money. I work, but projects are slow and money runs out faster than I get paid. I still can't learn what my labor is really worth and I still have an imposter syndrome flaring up every time I'm given a job. What are you talking about, I'm not a professional, I'm three kids in a trench coat.

Except I am a professional and when my work is critiqued or I am refused a position I get angry. Prideful. Offended.

My childhood friend is married and has a kid. I paint the walls of my room and bought a skateboard. I've never had a relationship like that in my life. I don't know how much of it is my fault and how much is just a coincidence. I finally bought shoes that my mother refused to buy me when I was 12. Maybe I'm still a child. Maybe I'm stuck. I don't know if it's bad or not.

My other old friend comes to me in dreams. I tried to get in touch, 10 years after. We didn't have anything to talk about. For some reason I still dream of her.

I also dream of my best friend's abusive mother from whom I can't protect her. I'd like to ask her to fuck off from my head. The mother, but the friend.

So many bad things happen in the world. And on top of that, so many people choose to spread hatred under the banner of fighting for justice. And so many people are trying to be perfect and never misstep. I try to avoid people with disgusting life views and I find I can no longer feel safe in my old online spaces 'cause they are now full of those people. I find I spend more time fearing bigots than actually enjoying my time. I find that I don't let myself enjoy anything' cause instead I'm finding all the potentially problematic things about it and agonize over being not good enough. I hate it. I hate it with burning passion. Maybe I should just let myself be a bad person if it stops me from feeling nauseated and miserable all the time.

But even that would be hard. I didn't have empathy when I was little. I taught myself empathy. I learned the algorithms that make people upset and hurt in order to avoid it, but as a side effect I learn every suffering pattern as a fact and it gets stuck in my head. I'm not even "woke". I just learn what makes people upset at the other fucking side of the globe and keep it in mind with the same finality as "throwing stuff at people makes them angry". I've never even seen people from that part of the globe and I can't help them. Thinking about this shit with no resolution just makes me go mad. And if I just let myself not care about certain topics... Will I still be a kind and compassionate person to my friends? Or will all my empathy come undone as one?

I say that I'm still a child, but I'm wrong. A child me spent no more than a couple of hours a day online and kept perfectly busy the rest of the time. I forgot how to do that. I don't know what to do with myself.

I wish I could go offline but all my friends are here... So is my paycheck. When I'm concentrated enough to earn one, that is. I haven't felt any energy in me for a while now. And when I do - I suddenly want to do anything but.

My scalp fucking itches for no fucking reason. So much. It doesn't go away no matter what I do. I'm afraid I'll scratch a fucking bald spot eventually. It gives no relief it just ITCHES.

It's honestly the same with anger and frustration inside my chest. I want to scream and smash things, I want to rip my nerves out. I go to a rock concert despite all the restrictions - it's nothing to be proud of, but this country is shit at restricting anyway. I stand right near the stage and I scream until I'm hoarse and half-deaf. I finally feel at peace. Insides of my chest are finally blessedly quiet.

It lasts for three days, and then I once again wake up with an anxiety attack.

I don't know what I'm doing and I see no point but I'm too stubborn to admit it and too stubborn to give up so I'm just kicking in an ambiguous direction.

I'm afraid I'll forever be alone as in without a partner. It's not the end of the world and a lot of people are happy that way, but it does make me personally sad.

Being 25 is a real fucking treat, ain't it.

I'd like to preface this by saying that I love your blog and all the analysis that you've done on various characters, scenes and ships. You are one of my online heroes. I'm not sure if you're still doing the ship asks, but if you are, what are your thoughts on frelin?

Dude tysm! I’m not sure ‘online hero’ is a great way to describe someone who once made a post comparing dragonlords to furries, but I’ll take the compliment nonetheless!! Your kind words have given me enough dopamine to last until my next paycheck <3

Freylin is a decent ship - conceptually. They're two kindred spirits who found solace and intimacy with each other, drawn together by their mutual sense of otherness (possessing magic). However, I think Freylin does fall into some obvious trappings of Insta-Love, Heteronormativity, and Not Giving Female Love Interests Any Discernible Personality Traits.

For some people, that's not a problem. They like watching Merlin and Freya be cute and sappy with each other, and I'll agree that it was a treat to see such a fun side of Merlin. If that's the kinda ship you like, then great! Ship away. But personally, Freylin makes me feel bad for Freya. 

Not because of the death thing - lord knows I've done far worse to beloved characters without even a hint of remorse. But I feel bad for her because of her role in the ship. As mentioned above, her main purpose in the narrative and in Merlin's life is to give him some angst, then come back later in season 3 to give him some helpful advice as a sort of Freya Ex Machina. Her personality has no depth beyond what was necessary for the story. And even in fanon interpretations of her, she's essentially just a more shy/introverted carbon-copy of Gwen. 

And, okay, as a writer I can admit that there are some characters who don't need a lot of depth. Some characters are plot devices, and that's okay. Freya only appears in like two episodes, so under normal circumstances I'd begrudge that level of shallow characterization. But the rules are different for characters who have a close emotional connection with the MC, especially love interests - even episodic dalliances like Freya! 

Take Balinor, Will, and Daegal, for example. They were all important to Merlin, and all had distinct personalities. Balinor is cantankerous and reclusive. Will is pragmatic and confrontational. Daegal is earnest and youthfully naive. And we as the audience liked them too, because they felt like actual people, even though their main purpose in the story is mainly to serve Merlin's arc. They are, fundamentally, plot devices, but they don’t feel like plot devices because of how organically they’ve been written. 

Freya is a harder sell, because she doesn't have as much of a personality with which to endear us. I'm not saying we need to know Freya's favourite colour and her fondest childhood memory, nor do we need to witness her go through a seasons-long character arc. Not every background character needs their personality painstakingly detailed, least of all background characters. If well-written main characters are chicago deep-dish pizzas, then well-written background characters are hot pockets - easy to make, easy to love, easy to remember. Characters like Gilli and Elena and the love of my life Sophia are good hot pockets. But Freya as she currently is, she's not even that. She's like if we were told there was a hot pocket in the microwave, only to open it up and find it's just a lump of half-melted cheese. 

And it's sad, because Freya had the potential to be interesting. She could've had a distinct personality that made us fall in love with her right alongside Merlin - which would have made her death even more painful for both the characters and the audience alike. But even if you don't give her a personality, at the very least let her fulfill her purpose of furthering Merlin's character arc instead of just making him sad for a few minutes. 

While I'm by no means an expert writer, here's how I would've taken a crack at having Freya’s impact on Merlin's arc. 

So Merlin sees Freya again, but she's not some helpful water spirit. She's emotional and volatile and vengeful and deeply, profoundly traumatized by the nature of her death. And maybe it's his job to finally lay her soul to rest once and for all.

She gets upset at Merlin. She cries and shouts and weeps about her death, about the pain and injustice of it. How could he continue protecting her killer? How could he befriend the man who literally murdered her? Freya didn't want to die, she didn't want to be a monster, she didn't want to be alone (cue implications that she has been trapped inside the lake all this time, maddened by isolation). She just wanted to be left in peace. To be loved. Merlin naturally defends Arthur, saying that he is destined to be a good king, destined to free magic and bring about the golden age of Albion. But she insists that destiny must be wrong, because what has Arthur done for the magic community besides perpetuate his father's company line? He killed her, killed several others like her, and even to this day he condones the oppression of their people - what makes him think a man like that could ever change, could ever set them free? And even if he does, why should any of them be expected to forgive him for his war crimes? 

She tells him that deep down, Merlin knows this. Deep down, Merlin fears Arthur just as much as the rest of them. If he truly believed in Arthur's inherent goodness, in his destiny, then Merlin would not have kept his magic hidden for so long. 

Thus sparks a seed of doubt in Merlin's mind, and scenes like Morgana's speech in Tears Of Uther Pendragon Part 2, Arthur's drive to destroy the dragon egg in Aithusa, Kara's execution in Drawing in the Dark, and the confession in Herald of a New Age would only cause that seed to grow. 

Not only is this a natural and logical progression of his character, but it would also be compelling to see Merlin's unwavering loyalty to Arthur do exactly that - waver. It grants depth to his character, empathizes us to his cause and the cause of his people, and lets us see Merlin in a unique perspective. It also puts a new light on Arthur's actions, foreshadowing an eventual moment of reckoning where Arthur will have to face the consequences of his harmful rhetoric - thereby creating a subtle layer of tension as we wait for that moment to finally arrive. And there's yet another layer of tension that arises from Merlin's repressed yet growing doubts: will he finally admit that Arthur isn't the shining saviour Kilgharrah had promised he'd be? Will he snap like Freya did? Will he and Arthur drift apart? And if they do, what will bring them back together, if such a thing is even possible? How will they make amends? How will Arthur learn from his mistakes and earn back Merlin’s trust?

I could go on and on about how this would impact the story as a whole, but I'm not here to talk about my rewrite ideas. I'm here to talk about Freylin.

At the end of the day, while it's a good ship, Freya doesn't have much personality, which affects their overall chemistry, and I don't think they have enough going on between them to be an endgame pairing. My personal opinion is that Freya has less narrative potential as a romantic partner, and more narrative potential as a supplementary background character whose closeness to Merlin combined with her own trauma forces him to develop and grow in certain ways. She's less of a Gwen (long-standing love interest), and more of a Balinor (one-off character with emotional importance), and that's perfectly fine. But because of her lack of personality and overall narrative relevance, I have a hard time believing or shipping Freylin beyond the scope of her debut episode.

Thanks for the ask! <3

Hi, Sarah! I'd like some advice if you could dispense it. I'm an English and French major rn. My parents are telling me that graduate school is a must, but if I go into English, they won't pay for it because it's not a sustainable career. They're pushing for law school, and I'm tired enough to agree. So, I'd like to ask, what is law school like? And is the money worth it? Because the main reason I'm considering it is because I have a physical disability, and I hella need the money/healthcare

Answering this question is complicated by the fact that the legal sector has been hit with the same crushing blow as the rest of the economy. Most courts are shut down for all but emergency matters right now, and corporate clients aren’t doing any new business, so law firms are furloughing and firing staff in response. Given that in 2019, legal hiring was juuust returning to pre-2008 levels, the impact of this is going to be felt for a long, long time.

Something to think about.

Anyway, before I even get into law school and whether it’s a good idea to go to law school, I want you to take a step back and question some of your parents’ wisdom. Why is graduate school required? Do you want to go to graduate school? What purpose would an MA or a PhD serve---do you want to teach, and the school district requires an MA? In your fantasies, are you a professor of English Literature? How does that fit in with your needs? (As someone with a lot of friends getting PhDs right now, the academy tends not to be super supportive of folks with disabilities, and only a fraction of working professors are earning anything approaching hella money. Spending 5-7 years working extremely hard only to end up an underpaid adjunct is a reality many bright scholars contend with.)

Even if you agree with your parents and decide that graduate school is the way to go, I’d still caution you about going straight from undergrad to grad without a clear idea of what you want out of it. If it’s possible in your situation, I would try and find a job, and work for a year or two---working between college and law school was the best decision I ever made, and it was abundantly clear from the very first day of class who had spent some time in the real world, and who hadn’t.

But now to answer the question you actually asked:

I enjoyed law school. I’ve always liked learning, reading and writing, and law school has that in abundance; if you’re bright and detail-oriented and don’t mind reading lengthy cases, you’ll be fine. As someone who earned her own highly impractical Bachelor’s degree, I found that the only real difference between college and law school was law school’s emphasis on the professional---we were there to get a job. Yes, classes were important and legal theory was interesting, but only if you paired that with networking events, internships, and cozying up to professors who made job placements.

(I’ve talked before in my “some things rats won’t do” tag about the particular struggles of law school, I won’t rehash them here.)

I do make good money. I’m not at a large firm so I’m not making hella good money---some of the students I graduated with are pulling down six figures, easy---but it’s certainly more than I was making before I went to law school. However, I can’t say whether it’s “worth it” because this is what I wanted to do. I’m not enduring something for a paycheck, this is my chosen career; the paycheck is just fair compensation for my time and services. Wanting this, having chosen law school for myself, having chosen which law school, having fought for a career in health law...it makes it easier. I’m not sure how I’d handle the ups and downs of my job if this hadn’t been my choice in the first place.

I’m not saying that you can’t be a lawyer just for the money. But before you sign up for three expensive years of studying, networking, long hours, internships and hustle---before you sign up for a lifetime of billable hours, hostile clients, and high-strung, competitive peers---I would sit with yourself and really think about that choice. Seriously consider whether that’s something you’re prepared for. Understand that a JD isn’t a guarantee of benefits and a generous salary, as my underemployed or COVID-furloughed colleagues know. Spend time considering whether that’s a road you want to go down.

Once you’ve figured out whether that’s something you can see yourself doing---once you’ve figured out whether grad school is even the right move for you at this moment---then you can go back to your parents and have an honest conversation about what your future might look like.

Though of course you could always just show them this video:

In Sickness In Health

This is a part of a TRR A/U called Cordonians Gone Wild, a collaborative effort by @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @leelee10898 and yours truly. Catch up HERE.

Summary: Genevieve and Liam are home sick while Anitah and Rashad have fun in NYC. This was a prompt request from @speedyoperarascalparty: For Genevieve and whoever you want You have cold, you’re not dying.

Rating: Mature, bad language and awful decisions. And this turned out much longer than I intended.

Tag List: @fullbeaumonty @brightpinkpeppercorn @alj4890 @zaffrenotes @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @jlouise88 @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @lynne1993 @the-soot-sprite

Before the alarm clock went off, Genevieve woke up coughing. Rashad stirred next to her and turned. Looking at her concerned, he asked, “Are you alright, Gen?” She nodded her head still coughing. He got out of bed and brought back a glass of water. She took a sip and smiled at her husband, “Thank you, honey. I guess I caught that cold that’s going around. I feel fine other than this cough.” Rashad sighed, “Sweetheart, I really think you should go to the doctor. You’ve been tired the past week and this cough doesn’t sound good. What if you have bronchitis?”

“Baby, I’m fine...besides, I have too much work to do to be sick. Don’t worry,” she smiled at him trying to convince him that she was in fact alright. Just then, Rashad’s cell phone rang, “What’s up Liam? It’s early.” He heard a pitiful whimper on the other end of the phone, “Rashad, I'm dying!" Genevieve then started hacking again. She left the room so she wouldn’t interrupt the phone call. He heard Anitah laughing in the background before the phone was removed from Liam’s hand. “Hello, Rashad. The King is not on his deathbed, I promise. Is Gen alright? She sounds awful!”

Rashad replied, "He kinda sounds like he's dying, Anitah...Gen says she's fine and refuses to go the doctor. She said it's just a cold." Anitah tried to control her laughter as Liam continued to groan in the background like a wounded animal. She lowered her voice to a whisper, “Liam just has the man flu. Sounds like they need to switch places.” Rashad let out a heavy sigh,"Well they're both stubborn. So good luck trying to convince them. What does this mean for our trip to New York for the Climate Action Summit? Will your dying husband be able to make it?"

“No, he will not be going. Hope you don’t mind the Queen taking his place...”

"These trips are always fun when you're there. Hopefully no international disasters this time..."

“That was ONE time Rashad....but I won’t make any promises,” Anitah laughed. Rashad chuckled, "We're set to leave at 4:30. Maybe Gen should stay at the palace with Liam while we're gone. I don't want her to be by herself. My father is also traveling, and she’s not going to call the staff if she needs something. Plus, Liam probably shouldn’t be alone right now." Anitah agreed, “That will be more than fine. I will let staff know she’ll be staying.”

The two hung up the phone, and Rashad started packing a bag for his wife. He knew she would protest, so he was preparing himself mentally. He recited what he was going to say so that she would agree to go to the palace while he was out of town. He heard her phone chirp with a message, and he glanced at the screen. A smile formed on his lips after he read it.

She came back into the room freshly showered. “What are you doing, Rashad?” She motioned towards the packed bag. He took a deep breath already forgetting his prepared speech, “Before you say no, hear me out...Liam is sick, so Anitah is going to New York with me instead. Since you're sick, I thought you and Liam could keep each other company.”

She rolled her eyes, “So you're asking me to babysit Liam? I told you I feel fine. And I have to go to work, honey. I'll just check on him before and after work. Have Drake watch him during the day.” She grumbled under her breath, “He's such a baby.”

Rashad cleared his throat, trying not to laugh, “Sweetie, Pam already texted and said to stay home. Check your phone.” Sure enough, when she looked at her phone, there was a text from Pam that read, ‘Keep your sick ass at home. I don't want your cooties.’

“You guys are ridiculous!” She said loudly which caused her to have another coughing fit. He raised his brow at her. “Fine!” she stomped off to her closet to get dressed.

Meanwhile at the palace, Anitah was packing her suitcase for the trip. “Anitah!” Liam yelled. “Love, can you just stay home and take care of me? Rashad can go to the summit by himself…” Anitah tried to keep her face serious, “My King, one of us has to represent Cordonia along with Rashad, so they know we take climate issues seriously. Gen is coming to stay with you.” Liam looked relieved, “Gen’s staying with me? Ok, I feel better now. She can take care of me. And she cooks really good food.” Anitah giggled, “She's sick too, and Pam banned her from the clinic until she feels better. So you guys can take care of each other. She is in denial of being sick so she probably will cook for you. Now, can I get you anything before I leave? Orange juice? Soup? Your balls maybe?”

“Ha ha ha...you're so funny,” Liam replied. “I'd like some orange juice though.” Anitah brought Liam a glass of juice and kissed his forehead. Then she resumed packing her bag. “Good luck, Gen,” she murmured while she packed.

That afternoon, Genevieve and Rashad entered the royal quarters. Liam was laying on the couch covered with a blanket. He looked at his two friends, “Hey, guys. Sorry I didn't answer the door, my entire body hurts.” Rashad covered his mouth to hide the smile on his face, “I hope you feel better, Li. Gen will take care you of while we’re gone.”

“Thanks, Rashad. Make sure to keep an eye on my Queen. I don't want to have to clean up another international...achoo!” Liam pulled the covers up to his chin and whimpered. Rashad chuckled, “She will be fine. If not, I'll just pretend I don't know her.”

He looked at his wife who was working on her laptop at the dining room table. “Sweetheart, you need to rest. I know you're ‘fine’ but that can wait.” She turned to him and smiled, “I won't be on long. Just have to respond to some emails. Then I have to take care of...that.” She pointed to Liam who had fallen asleep on the couch with his mouth open.

Anitah tiptoed towards the door, “Alright let’s go before he wakes up and starts whining again! Gen, I know you're not sick, but I'm still not hugging you.” She giggled and waved to her friend as Brad grabbed her bag and they both left. Rashad turned to his wife, “I'll be back in a couple of days. Please try to go to the doctor while I'm gone. I'm sure Bastien wouldn't mind taking you.” She rolled her eyes at him, “Well if I'm so sick, I'm sure I won't get a goodbye kiss from my husband…” He pulled her up so she was standing in front of him. Rashad leaned down and kissed her sweetly, “I'll always kiss you, sick or not. I love you, Gen.”

“Have a good trip, honey. I love you too.”

After Rashad left, Liam woke up from his nap. “Gen…I don't feel good. I think I have a fever.” Genevieve walked up to him and put her hand against his forehead. “Liam, you don't feel warm. Have you taken your temperature?” He shook his head no. She walked into the bathroom to get the thermometer. She stuck it in his mouth and went into the kitchen, pulling out a large pot. She perused through the items in the royal couple’s fridge and pantry, grabbing the ingredients she needed to make dinner. When she heard the thermometer beep, she went back to the living room.

Genevieve removed the thermometer from Liam’s mouth, “As I suspected…” Liam looked at her with puppy dog eyes. “I told you! I'm sick.” She started laughing showing him the 98.6 temperature on the screen. This made her start coughing. “Don't make me laugh, Liam! This cough hurts. I’m going to make you some chicken noodle soup. If that doesn't make you feel better...seriously...nothing will, because you're fine.”

The royal jet landed in New York. Anitah and Rashad checked into The Surrey. “Let's meet for dinner in a half hour, Rashad. Then I think we should go for drinks at Kismet.” Rashad looked at her, “A nightclub, seriously?”

“Why not? It's the hottest club in the city. The first night I met Liam I was going to take him there, but I took him to the beach instead.” The two went their separate ways to get ready for dinner. Rashad pulled out his phone and called his wife. “Hi, sweetie. How is everything?”

“He's finally sleeping! Every little sound wakes him up, and he starts whimpering. I'm going to smother him with his pillow. Too bad Bas keeps checking on us.” Rashad chuckled, “We just checked in. We're going to have dinner and go to a club, I guess.” This made his wife start giggling and coughing. “You're going to a club? Poor Brad. He's going to earn his paycheck tonight. I love you, Rashad. Have fun.”

“I love you too. I'll see you in a couple of days,” he hung up the phone.

He met Anitah in the hotel lobby. “Gen said they're fine...but Liam might die before we get back.” After dinner, the two friends entered the nightclub. Music thumped, multicolored lights flashed all over, and the dance floor was packed with people. The pair walked straight to the bar and ordered shots. After a few drinks they started to feel the liquid courage course through their veins.

A tall, handsome man walked up next to Anitah and licked his lips as he looked her up and down. “What are ya drinking, gorgeous?” Anitah giggled while Rashad rolled his eyes and got between her and the man. “She's drinking what I'm buying. Move along.” The man held his hands up and backed away from the bar. A short while later a blonde woman sat next to Rashad. “What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?” Anitah pulled Rashad to side and stood real close to her, “You ever been to Brooklyn? If you haven't, you're about to see it if you don't walk away right now.” The woman’s eyes went wide, “I...I'm sorry, i didn't know he was here with his wife…” she quickly walked away. The two looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Anitah yelled over the music, “Let's get out of here! I'll take you on a tour of New York! But wait…” she pointed to Brad who was eyeing her suspiciously. “We have to ditch him.” At this point Rashad was half in the bag and agreed with the Queen. She beckoned her guard over to her, “Bradley, go get the car! We're leaving!” Once Brad left, Anitah grabbed Rashad’s hand and sprinted towards the door laughing, “Hurry, Cinnamon Roll! We have to get out of here!” The two drunken friends ran down the New York street as an unsuspecting Brad pulled up with the SUV.

A short while later, they arrived at Time Square. “You gotta see the naked cowboy!” Rashad looked at her confused, “Why...why would I want to see a naked cowboy?” She ignored him and continued to yank on his arm leading him towards the street performer. Rashad stared at him wide eyed, “wow...he's in his tighty whities...in the middle of Time Square...playing a guitar. This is the greatest thing I've ever seen!” He grinned at Anitah who was giggling uncontrollably.

Rashad continued to watch him perform, “He's like Fabio in a cowboy hat…” he reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, pulling out a few bills, “You know what? I like you, take it all!” He dropped his entire wallet into the cowboy’s guitar case. “Rashad! Let's go get pie! I know just the place!” Anitah began to pull him down the street towards the subway.

Meanwhile at the palace, Liam’s phone rang. Genevieve jumped up to get it so it wouldn't wake him. She saw Brad’s number flashing on the screen and she stifled a laugh. She walked into a bedroom and answered the phone, “Brad! Why are you calling Liam instead of Bas?”

“Your…Your Grace, I...I...lost the queen in New York…” he sounded frantic. She could hear the New York traffic in the background. “I knew this would happen!” She started laughing hard, again breaking out into a coughing fit. “Let me find Bastien. I'll have him call you. DO NOT call Liam again. I will kill you, do you understand?” She walked out of the royal quarters and found Bastien. “Bas, Anitah and Rashad ditched Brad and he's panicking. Can you please help him before he drives himself into the Atlantic?” She saw a smirk form on Bastien’s lips, “I'm on it, Your Grace.”

Anitah and Rashad arrived at the New York subway. A drunk Rashad looked around at the dingy concrete and tile. They boarded a train and noticed different types of people that Rashad had never encountered before. They took their seats on the train and looked around at their fellow travelers. Anitah nudged Rashad’s arm and nodded towards a couple that were locked in a heated kiss. The woman was straddling the man. Rashad’s eyes went wide, “Are they...no...they can’t be…” Anitah burst out laughing, “I’m pretty sure they are, Rashad.”

“That’s kinky, even for Liam,” Rashad replied. They turned their attention to a drunk man that was having an animated conversation with one of the poles. Clearly he was having a disagreement with it and wasn’t going to be proven otherwise. Then they heard a Spanish speaking couple having a heated discussion in front of them. They had Rashad’s full attention. “Can you understand them?” Anitah asked. He nodded his head, “Yes, the man said he knows that she’s been sleeping with his best friend, Juan.” Anitah gasped, “No!”

“Now the man is questioning if the baby is his and wants a paternity test.” The woman stood up and slapped the man across the face. “Damn!” Anitah yelled. “That looked like it hurt.��� Rashad continued, “She just told him that she slept with Juan because she knew that he was sleeping with him too.” Both of their mouths formed into perfect ‘o’ shapes. “Juan’s a slut…” Anitah whispered. The subway train came to a stop. “This is us, let’s go get pie!”

They walked into a mom and pop diner in the heart of Harlem. All eyes turned to the overdressed pair. Anitah didn’t notice and pulled Rashad up to the diner counter and ordered two pieces of apple pie. “Now, this is a real apple pie, Rashad!” Anitah took a big bite of her piece. Rashad looked at it unconvinced. He cut a small piece with his fork and took a bite. “This is delicious, Anitah! Who knew American apple pie was better than Cordonian apple pie…do not tell Liam I said that. I will deny it.” He quickly ate his piece and ordered another. When the waitress gave him the second helping, she dropped off their check. Rashad reached into his pocket and his heart dropped when he couldn’t find his wallet. He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and the wallet wasn’t there either. “Anitah, I lost my wallet!” Anitah giggled, “No you didn’t. You gave it to the naked cowboy.”

“Are you telling me that you two don’t have any money?” the woman asked sternly from behind the counter. Anitah patted Rashad’s hand, “I’ll handle this…” She turned to the woman, “Excuse me, I’m the Queen of Gordon and I would like you to bill this pie to my room.” She started walking towards the door. “Oh no you don’t, Queenie! I’m calling the cops.”

Back in Cordonia, Bastien was on the phone with his friend at the NYPD. “Yes, the Queen and Duke were last seen entering the subway...Ah, I see...I will notify her guard. Thank you for your help. Please just hold them in the back of the squad car until he arrives.” Bastien chuckled as he dialed Brad’s number. “I will text you the address to the diner. They ate and didn’t pay for their food. Make sure to bring some non-disclosure agreements with you. The police are holding them so they can’t get away from you again, Brad.”

Liam woke up from his long nap whining and whimpering. “Gen, I need water and I think I really have a fever now…” Genevieve got him a glass of water and touched his forehead. He was slightly warm. “I’ll take your temperature again, but it’s probably elevated because you’ve been under that thick blanket for hours.” She walked into the kitchen to check on the soup that was simmering on the stove. The noodles were floating which meant the soup was done. She ladled soup into two bowls, thinking she may as well enjoy some of it.

She heard the thermometer beep and gave Liam the bowl. She took the thermometer from his mouth and checked the screen. “Liam! Your temperature is 104.9! We have to get you to the hospital.” She dialed Bastien’s number and told him to get the car ready. Genevieve helped Liam off of the couch and out of the royal chambers. Bastien met them in the hall and helped support the sick King. Enroute to the emergency room, Genevieve called Rashad. His phone went to voicemail so she left him a message, “Honey, I hope you’re out of the squad car now…” she coughed and laughed. “When you get this, let Anitah know I’m taking Liam to the ER. His temperature is really high, but I’m sure everything will be fine. I’ll call or text once I talk to the doctor.”

With Bastien’s help, the pair of friends were checked in and shown to a private room. Shortly after a nurse came in and checked his vitals. “Blood pressure looks ok, oxygen levels are normal. Your majesty, what’s bothering you? Are you breathing ok?” Liam whimpered, “My body aches and I have a fever.” The nurse took Liam’s temperature and raised her brow, “Your majesty, your temperature looks normal...How high was it before you came here?” Genevieve looked at the nurse, “Are you sure? Because when I took it at the palace it was almost 105...unless...Liam, did you put the thermometer up to the lamp?” She turned to her friend, glaring at him.

Liam’s cheeks flushed, “Maybe...I don’t feel well and no one was taking me seriously. I just want to see the doctor!” The nurse clicked her tongue, “The doctor will be with you shortly, King Liam…” Genevieve got up and smacked Liam in the arm, “What is the matter with you? There are people with real emergencies, and we got you in here ahead of them.” Liam gave her a pitiful look, “Don’t be mad, Gen. Had I known the soup was ready, I would have waited to do that. Genevieve couldn’t help but giggle, “You’re stupid, you know that right?” Liam smiled in return, “And you’re the meanest care taker ever.”

The doctor came into the room and addressed the King, “What seems to be the problem, your majesty?” He checked Liam’s eyes, ears and throat while he listened to Liam drone on about all of his ailments. Genevieve started coughing while he was listening to Liam’s heart and lungs through the stethoscope, and he looked in her direction. The doctor smiled at him, “Based on everything in your chart, it looks like you just have a virus. It should clear up in a couple of days. Plenty of fluids and rest and you should be back to normal in no time.” He turned to Genevieve, “Now, you, your grace...I’d like to listen to your lungs. That cough doesn’t sound good.”

She waved him off, “I’m fine. I’m not even checked in, Doc. We’re here to tell his majesty that he is a big fat baby.” She grinned at Liam. The doctor walked towards where she was sitting, “I’m afraid that I can’t let you leave without checking you. You sound like you might have something serious.” She rolled her eyes, “Fine..go ahead.” He listened to her lungs for a long period of time, asking her to take a deep breath every so often. The doctor removed the stethoscope from his ears and put them back around his neck. “I think you have pneumonia. I’m going to order a chest x-ray to confirm it.” Genevieve grumbled under her breath, “I am sure I don’t have pneumonia, but do what you must.” She pulled out her phone and started playing candy crush. After the x-ray, the doctor came back in, “Well it looks like you have pneumonia. I’d like to check you in and have some IV antibiotics administered.” Genevieve looked at him skeptically, but agreed to stay at the hospital.

Back in New York, Anitah and Rashad met bright and early for the first day of the summit. Both were hungover and looked like they had walked to Harlem and back. Rashad told Anitah about Genevieve’s message and said that he was waiting for an update. They took their seats in the front row of the conference center when Brad approached Anitah. “Your majesty, Bastien called and said that Genevieve’s been checked into the hospital.” Rashad’s head snapped towards him, “Is she alright? She didn’t mention that in her message earlier.” Brad motioned for them to follow him. He explained what had happened and that the jet was ready to leave the airfield once they arrived. Once they were in the air, Anitah turned to Rashad, “Ok, I’ll take care of Gen and you can take care of Liam. I mean she’s one of my best friends and he’s one of yours…”

“She’s my wife, Anitah. I will be taking care of her. I just hope she’s ok and that she’s actually listening to the medical staff.” After they arrived at the hospital, Anitah pulled Rashad to the side in the hallway, “Listen, rock paper scissors. Best two out of three. Whoever wins gets to stay with Gen. The loser deals with Liam.” Rashad rolled his eyes, “No, she’s my wife…”

“Please Rashad, I’m begging you. Please!” He let out a sigh, “Fine. one, two, three…” They pounded their fists into their palms. Anitah held out rock and Rashad held out paper. “Dammit! Again!” Anitah yelled out. “One, two, three…” Anitah held out rock again and Rashad, again, held out paper. “I’m taking care of my wife.” He started walking away before she could argue. “No you don’t, Cinnamon Roll! I’m getting to her room first and you can go to Liam’s room!” She ran after him and grabbed the back of his shirt, ripping it. She kicked him in the shin and ran down the hallway. “What the fu...Anitah!” He ran after her as the staff yelled at the two of them.

They made it to Genevieve’s hospital room and burst through the door. Liam’s head snapped up as he watched Anitah fall to the floor, and Rashad trip over her, both of them sweaty and out of breath. “My love, you came for me!” Liam smiled at his wife. “Li...Liam...I thought this was Gen’s room? Is she ok?” Anitah asked, trying to mask the shock on her face at seeing her ‘sick’ husband wearing a hospital gown and laying in a hospital bed. The curtain next to Liam got pulled to the side. “I’m right here. What is all that noise?” Genevieve asked annoyed. She had an IV in her arm and machines beeping and buzzing around her.

Rashad rushed to her side, “Sweetheart, are you ok?” Genevieve smiled at him, “I’m fine. I should be able to go home tomorrow. You didn’t need to come home early.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I got worried. I’d rather be here with you.” The door opened and the doctor walked in, “Ah, Duke Rashad. It’s nice to see you. Your wife will need to stay tonight and then she will be discharged in the morning. We just want to make sure that she’s hydrated and that the antibiotics are working.” Liam groaned from his hospital bed and the doctor looked at him surprised, “Your majesty, we discharged you hours ago from the emergency room. Go home.” Anitah let out a loud snort and started laughing.

Rio & Buster

Rio: Hey Rio: how've you been Buster: I'd have been better if you'd warned me Buster: Some of us are still in lessons & have more to go to, like Rio: Sorry but had to mark the occasion Rio: that's practically PG to most the other ideas I had shot down Buster: 'Course Buster: & You just had to show me everything I'm missing Rio: It's a bonus, yeah Buster: Nah, it's the goal, distract me 'cause you don't wanna talk to me Buster: If you did you would've told me Rio: You know I think school s'a waste of time Rio: for me Rio: I've said it loads before Buster: & I've said come here & fuck me, it don't mean it's gonna happen Rio: Might have to wait a few paychecks Buster: You'd get a higher paycheck if you stayed in school Rio: And do what Rio: be a fucking lawyer or doctor Rio: unlikely Buster: It's not unlikely, just unwanted Rio: Same difference Buster: No, you're smart enough to do anything Buster: So what is it? What do you want? Rio: Lots of things Rio: I've got plans Rio: and I don't need school for them Rio: and if I did, I'd get my diploma as and when, I need to not be wasting 6 hours a day 5 days a week right now Buster: So what do you need? Rio: The time Rio: and the money Rio: I'm not stupid, I'm sorting it, I've already got jobs secured Buster: I literally just said you weren't stupid Buster: You don't have to prove shit to me Rio: I'm just saying Rio: I didn't have a shit day at school and say fuck it, like Buster: I know that Buster: Not talking to Nance, I'm talking to you Rio: It's gonna work Rio: I just can't tell anyone yet Buster: It'll work if you make it work & put the work in, yeah Buster: You can tell me anything though Buster: Look at how many secrets we already have Rio: I am Rio: I was before, School was literally just getting in my way Rio: it's Rio: it sounds worse than it is Rio: actually Buster: Say it Buster: If its not that bad there's no reason not to Rio: I don't think it's bad Rio: you probably will Buster: You think I'm gonna be a judgey cunt about it Buster: What are you selling for Drew? 'Cause Nan will kill you Rio: No I'm not Rio: God Buster: Then tell me Rio: You can't dob me in, even if you don't like it Rio: it's like, there's a lot to it Buster: Fuck you, I've never been that cunt, have I Rio: Just saying, I would get in so much shit and not just with my 'rents Rio: or nan Rio: basically, I do these streams and I usually just do like normal shit I'd do anyway and people pay to talk to me Rio: and then some of these people pay more or buy me things and they get like private chats Rio: I've not shown my face or nothing so no one knows it's me Buster: Don't they check your age on that shit when you sign up? Like I know they don't give a fuck who watches it but Rio: Nah, it's like signing up for any social media really Buster: You could be 12 though Buster: Thank Christ you aren't Rio: Exactly, I don't look 12 Rio: hopefully someone would report you if you were underage looking but Buster: What's the site's cut? They aren't doing fuck all by the sounds of it Rio: Whatever you earn is yours Rio: they're in it for the clicks Rio: there's premium memberships, all that nonsense Buster: Alright Rio: Is it Buster: I ain't your boyfriend or your dad Buster: I can't tell you what to do & you wouldn't do it anyway Rio: Neither can they Rio: can have an opinion Buster: Yeah Rio: You can tell me Buster: What do you want me to say? Am I jumping for joy? No Buster: Can I stop you? Also no Buster: & Anyway, I can't tell you how smart you are then treat you like you're stupid Buster: You know what you're doing Buster: You know the risks & rewards Rio: It's just the starting point Rio: not the end goal Buster: If the end goal is fucking for money, don't tell me Rio: It isn't Rio: I knew you wouldn't get it Buster: I get it, you're young & hot & you can make money off that Buster: Nudes are basically currency already anyway Buster: I'm just asking you how far you're planning to take this Rio: It isn't that Rio: I'm not even showing anything more than I would anywhere else Rio: it's about being good with people Rio: company Rio: that's what I'm good at, why is that less valuable 'cos I'm not gonna spend 30 grand on it when I've got it naturally Buster: It's about turning people on Buster: You're not chatting about the weather Rio: I chat about all sorts of things Buster: If you can fleece people out of cash, go ahead babe Buster: We're all just trying to find our hustle Rio: Fuck off Buster: Come on Rio: You don't get it Rio: there's no point chatting about this Buster: What don't I get? They wanna fuck you that's what they're chatting to you for, whether you do it or not Rio: Yeah well who don't Buster: Exactly Buster: So take your money Buster: But don't act like it's something it's not Rio: Don't try and tell me what it is Rio: You don't get to do that Buster: You're the one in control yeah? Buster: Good Rio: You're a dick Buster: If giving a shit about you makes me a dick, fine Rio: You don't care, you're just taking the piss Buster: Of course I fucking do Buster: You don't get to say that I don't Rio: I'm not doing anything risky Buster: I know Rio: Then you don't need to worry Rio: judge me all you want Rio: I don't care Buster: Shut up Buster: Don't start being stupid now, like Buster: You were doing so well Rio: You're so fucking patronizing Buster: Fuck that Buster: You know what I mean Rio: Whatever Buster: Not whatever, I can worry about you if I fucking want Rio: Why would you want to Buster: Forget it Rio: You Rio: I ain't who you reckon Buster: Well I ain't either, clearly Buster: Obviously just a selfish cunt aren't I Rio: At no point have I said or even implied that Buster: Why would I wanna spare a thought for you ever? Buster: I must only be bothered that you might start charging me for chatting to you Buster: So go on, how much do you want? Rio: I choose who I talk to Rio: and I don't want to talk to you Buster: Then don't Buster: Time's money, babe Rio: And just let you talk to me like shit? Rio: I don't think so Buster: Like I said, not one of your punters & not forcing you to entertain me Buster: Go Rio: Yeah and I ain't one of your little friends or anyone else you speak down to so don't Buster: Who the fuck are you then? Buster: I'd love to hear what you think Rio: You know Rio: or are you taking that back now Buster: Taking what back? Rio: That we know each other Buster: You already did Rio: So it's my fault then Rio: cool Buster: You can't have it both ways, either I know you or I don't Buster: It can't be a sometimes thing Rio: I only said that because you think I've thrown a career away for this and I haven't Rio: what else was I gonna do Rio: nothing Buster: You said it 'cause you want me to know you when it feels good but not when it doesn't Buster: I never said you'd thrown anything away Buster: I don't doubt you're really good at this Buster: & If you don't want it anymore there's loads of other shit you'd be good at too Rio: You're just disappointed, that's why I said it Rio: you want me to be someone else Buster: No I don't Buster: I want you to remember who you are, someone who's the same as me & can have anything & everything Buster: Not someone who says what else was I gonna do Rio: Do you have any idea how much I could make doing this Buster: A fortune, I'm sure Rio: Then how is that not everything Buster: I never said it wasn't Buster: This isn't a bad idea Buster: It's just one that makes me jealous Rio: It's nothing like this Rio: us Rio: what we do Buster: You can say that but you've never touched me Buster: All we can do is watch or talk Rio: That's not the only difference Rio: or the most important one, remotely Rio: I don't talk like this with anyone else, never mind strangers Buster: I know Buster: But you know how big my ego is, it gets in the way of loads of shit, that's all Rio: This isn't a job, it's not fake Rio: I actually want to talk to you Buster: Still? Buster: You must like me then Rio: Alright, shut up 😏 Rio: just 'cos I don't scare easily Buster: I hope not, some of the shit those cunts are gonna say Rio: just preparing me, were you Rio: I know Rio: but like I said, no one knows it's me Rio: plan on keeping it that way for a while yet Buster: Yeah Buster: I'm sorry, alright Rio: It's alright Rio: you are allowed an opinion Buster: I don't need to express it like that Buster: I shouldn't Rio: Alright Rio: apology accepted Rio: can we still be friends or what? Buster: Thank Christ you can't tell my mum, she'd actually kill me for talking to a girl like that Buster: You know I don't wanna be just friends though Rio: Has she met you, like Rio: You know what I mean Buster: Yeah but she also raised me so she can always demand better, like Buster: You know what I mean Rio: I do like you, alright Buster: Good, 'cause I really fucking like you Rio: Still? Buster: If anything I like you more Buster: You don't let me be the worst version of myself Buster: Everyone else reckons there's only the one Rio: See what they wanna see, yeah Rio: it's easier than admitting there's reasons, and that a lot of the time, you're right Rio: even if you are dead rude with it Buster: Fuck off, I'm always right Rio: 😂 Rio: Let's not get carried away Buster: Why not? It sounds fun Buster: Get carried away with me, babe Rio: When you put it like that Rio: okay then Buster: Whatever else I might think about what you doing, that pic was Rio: Distracting? Buster: Yeah but I feel like I need a better word for it Buster: You're always distracting but I literally haven't been able to think about anything else Rio: Hmm Rio: Might not be in school but I'll dedicate some time to thinking of one Buster: As someone who is, it's the least you can do Buster: This class might as well be gibberish for all I'm following it Rio: Maybe it's the accent Rio: What more can I do, then? Buster: Or maybe that my head is full of you & there's very little blood flow left to be intellectual Rio: 😏 Rio: You're smart enough, it's okay Buster: It's not okay how stupid I want to be right now in front of everyone Rio: Okay ain't the word Rio: I agree Buster: Exactly Buster: Stupid doesn't feel like the word either though Rio: Hot Rio: dangerous Rio: there's a few Buster: I like the way you think Rio: One of the many perks Rio: What else do you like about me Buster: You're flawless, remember, there's nothing I don't Rio: I like everything about you Rio: but there's certain parts of you that are getting more thought right now Buster: I'd be lying if I disagreed with that Rio: And don't lie Rio: ever Buster: Not to you Rio: You can lie to anyone else Rio: you're gonna have to if you get caught, like Buster: I already am, I ain't turned to page 34 & I don't intend to Rio: Not gonna be as interesting as this Rio: who could blame you Buster: Everyone other than you but I don't care Rio: Good Rio: be as focused as me as I am on you Buster: You've got my full attention, I promise Rio: I think I can get you to concentrate even harder Buster: Do you? Rio: I told you I took more photos Buster: Shit Buster: You did say that Rio: I did Buster: So, do I have to earn them or? Rio: Could make you Rio: at least send them one by one so you don't get overwhelmed Buster: I don't get overwhelmed Rio: 😏 Buster: You're building these up a lot, babe Rio: You think you're gonna be disappointed Buster: Show me & I'll tell you Rio: [k I was looking but I couldn't find any decent pics w mixed girls but I wanted some in the uniform obvs like kissing on her friends 'cos #bants] Buster: I'm not disappointed Rio: I'd know you were lying if you said you were Buster: It's even hotter 'cause you say shit like that Buster: Girls here practically beg me to tell them how good they look all the time Rio: Insecurity's a turn-off Rio: sad but true Buster: Yeah Rio: It's worse in lads Rio: why I like you Buster: My ego's really big, yeah, you're welcome Rio: 😂 Rio: that remains a double-entendre I can't back up Rio: sadly Buster: Oh you want pics too, yeah? Buster: Hold on Buster: [sends some from the bathroom cos that bitch] Rio: Buster Buster: Rio Rio: Come back Buster: Come here Buster: You can seduce other lads from anywhere Rio: I told you, if I had the money, I would Buster: You can have it Buster: I'll do a transfer right now Rio: No, don't Buster: Come on Rio: You're not paying Rio: anyway, that's not all I do here Rio: I have a fulltime job, and Indie Buster: I know, I just want you here Rio: I wanna be there Rio: anyway, I've got a boyfriend to dump Buster: I'm sure that post did it for you Rio: Well I've got to go talk to him Rio: end it properly Buster: Text him Rio: I can't do that Rio: he'd just say he never got it Buster: He'd get the message if you didn't reply to any of his Rio: I'm gonna sort it properly Rio: 'cos trust, that doesn't work Buster: You've been saying that since I left Rio: It's complicated, I said that as well Buster: I can uncomplicate it for you really easily, I've said that even more times Rio: You don't think that'd look slightly weird Rio: getting you to fight my battles for me Buster: I don't care how it'd look Buster: Who would take your recent ex's word over mine anyway? Rio: I can do it Rio: like you said, he's really pissed off Rio: he could dump me Buster: He is that much of an idiot Rio: Fingers crossed Buster: It's not complicated 'cause you like him, is it? Rio: No Rio: I don't even like him as a person now Buster: Okay Buster: Like, it's obviously not, but Rio: I don't like anyone right now Buster: You like me, you already told me Buster: No taking it back Rio: Apart from you Rio: exception, like Buster: 'Course Buster: I often am Rio: Mhmm Rio: so cocky Buster: Says you Rio: Yeah Rio: I like it Buster: I know Buster: But I like that you keep telling me Rio: It's refreshing Rio: big ego usually equals fragile ego Buster: Like you said, I'm the exception Rio: Yeah Rio: and you're just fit so you know Buster: I take exception to your 'just' Buster: They gave me this face but I gave myself this body Buster: I work out all the time Rio: Okay, I'm sorry Rio: you're fit and you work hard Rio: better Buster: Yeah Buster: How sorry are you then? Rio: So sorry Rio: anything you want Buster: I want you Rio: You've got me Rio: how do you want me Buster: Do you reckon you could fit under this desk? Rio: Obviously Rio: I can fit lots of places Buster: In summer, you're proving that Rio: Could probably break into my school Rio: if you want that full experience Buster: I do Rio: You can have everything Buster: So can you Buster: Anything you want Rio: You know what I want Buster: It's yours Rio: Say it again Rio: please Buster: It's yours Buster: I am Rio: Fuck Rio: we've gone this long without talking before why is it so much harder now Buster: 'Cause you keep getting more fucking beautiful Rio: You mean hot Buster: I mean beautiful Rio: Shh Buster: No Rio: You're nice Buster: I'm not Buster: I'm honest Rio: It's just different Buster: Yeah, there's a distinction between hot & beautiful Buster: That's why I said it Rio: I'm hot too Rio: and you know what I meant Buster: You're so hot Buster: & You know what I mean Buster: I don't say this shit to be nice, I say it 'cause it's true Rio: I don't not like it Rio: it's just unexpected Buster: What, that I'd wanna compliment you? Rio: Not because you're you Rio: 'cos that's not the way it usually goes, you know Buster: I keep telling you to get better boyfriends, babe Rio: Well, I like it don't I Rio: you could tell, they can tell Buster: You don't have to only like one thing Rio: I know Buster: If you don't want me to say it, I won't but it doesn't change the fact that you are & that's what I think Rio: I didn't say that Rio: Never mind Rio: forget I said it Buster: No, tell me Rio: I dunno what I even meant Rio: seriously Buster: Come on Buster: Try & explain it to me Rio: It makes me feel out of my depth in a way I never have Rio: you could call me anything else and I'd know what to do Rio: doesn't mean its bad its just Rio: you know Buster: Yeah Buster: It's like when you say I'm nice or decent or whatever Buster: It feels like bullshit 'cause it's the opposite of what everyone else is saying Rio: Exactly Rio: but you know I mean it Rio: and I know you do too Buster: I just want you to know that you are different Buster: You're hot & I wanna fuck you but you're also beautiful & I wanna talk to you and everything, like Buster: That's all it has to mean, okay Rio: Yeah Rio: okay Rio: it's cool, I'm cool Buster: You are Rio: 😂 okay that's too far Buster: Proper 😎 Cavante, honestly Rio: I miss you Rio: everyone's doing my head in and I've not even tried to talk to my parents Buster: You sure you don't want that plane ticket? Rio: Oh, I want it Rio: all I want is to be under or on your desk in various positions Rio: but I can't Buster: I'm not saying stay til August, just give me a week Buster: Two Rio: Baby Buster: I'll make you forget all about it Buster: You know I can Rio: If I'd have stayed in school I'd just bunk Rio: but I've got to work Buster: I'll fake you a doctor's note Rio: saying what Rio: I'm hysterical and I need lots of sex to cure me Buster: Yeah Rio: if it were the 50s, we could Rio: though if it were the 50s, I wouldn't be working, you would Buster: I can still pay your bills Buster: Quit your job & find a new one later Rio: 🙄 That's responsible isn't it Buster: You said yourself you're gonna make a fortune at streaming anyway Rio: Yeah, but I can't tell anyone I'm streaming so if I've got no 'normal' job my parents will think I've just quit school to what Rio: randomly jet off to somewhere I can't actually tell them either, like Buster: Tell them you've got a job interview & you're jetting off for that Rio: You miss me that much, huh Buster: Please Rio: That's not fair, you know how weak that makes me Buster: Give in & I'll stop Buster: You know what's not fair is months more of this Rio: You're not gonna stop wanting me once you've fucked me, you know Rio: it'll only get worse, that's a promise Buster: Fuck, don't say that like that when I already need you this bad Buster: I can't just go back to the bathroom, I'm supposed to be learning Rio: Exactly, how would I entertain myself all day whilst you're in lessons Buster: I'd be there to entertain you, I'd call in sick Rio: Two whole weeks, yeah Rio: just me and you Buster: Just say yes Buster: I'll do everything else Rio: I must be stupid Buster: We both know you're not Rio: Why am I actually considering this then Buster: 'Cause it's a good idea Buster: I've told you before, I don't have ideas that ain't Rio: Don't you live on a campus or something? Rio: You can't pay for a hotel as well Buster: It's a host family thing right now, so yeah I can. I don't have to pay them, they're lucky to have me Buster: Their daughter especially Rio: Why do you always Buster: What? Rio: Tell me about your conquests Buster: You've got a boyfriend Rio: I don't chat about him Buster: I haven't said anything Rio: Good as Buster: You might not chat about him but you've been with him for months, I don't do that Rio: You're clearly doing repeats now though Rio: aren't gonna be able to avoid someone you live with, are you Buster: Why not? Buster: I'm not living there until I leave, they're making us do all sorts Rio: anyway Buster: Anyway what? Rio: let's not talk about it Buster: Fine, it's not worth talking about Buster: I don't do repeats for a reason Rio: Still looking for the one, yeah Buster: Still not looking for that, which is the entire point Rio: Don't blame you Rio: this is messy Rio: maybe I'll do that too Buster: At the very least dump your complicated boyfriend Buster: He sounds exhausting & not in a good way Rio: You have no ide Rio: a Rio: going over tonight Buster: I'd wish you luck but you make your own Buster: Good or bad Rio: You still could Buster: That isn't what you need from me Rio: What do I need Buster: Distraction Rio: What if I want more Buster: If you can ask for it, you can have it Rio: don't be mad at me okay Buster: Why would I? Rio: about him Rio: I've tried to dump him loads of times Buster: It's none of my business who you fuck Rio: doesn't matter Rio: I still get jealous Buster: You've got nothing to be jealous of Buster: No one Rio: I do Rio: they've touched you Buster: When you touch me, I won't remember any of them Rio: You won't Rio: I've thought about you touching me so much since it happened Buster: & You know I've touched myself thinking about you even more Rio: Yeah Rio: I like thinking about that Buster: I would now if I could Rio: What lesson are you in now Buster: History Rio: Ooh, sexy Buster: It's so American & I'm so uninterested Rio: Is it the civil war Rio: they bang on about that Buster: I don't know, I'm not listening Rio: You're still distracted Buster: Of course I am, I'm with you Rio: I'm gonna come see you Rio: before you leave Rio: we can make it happen, can't we Buster: We can make anything happen Rio: Yeah Buster: There's nothing I wouldn't do for you Rio: You know I feel that too, right Buster: Yeah Rio: Your sister is throwing me a party Buster: Fuck off Buster: She hates parties Rio: I know Rio: I thought she was taking the piss Buster: You sure she isn't? Maybe you'll show up & there ain't no celebration Rio: Just an intervention? Rio: Oh dear Buster: Fuck knows Rio: Maybe if I'd told her the rest but bit dramatic even for her just 'cos I wanna do bar work Buster: So what she's a party animal now I've left, like there can only be one? Rio: Nah Rio: I just bring out the worst in her, obviously Buster: You bring out the best in me so it makes sense Rio: You're so cute Buster: Shut up Rio: but you are Buster: Nah, I just look it Rio: 😈 on the inside Rio: I remember Buster: Don't forget Rio: don't let me Buster: [sends pics from his desk] Rio: Oh God Rio: making me miss school with how bad I wanna be bent over that desk right now Buster: We'd definitely break this one Buster: I barely fit in it, fucking ridiculous Rio: You're so big Rio: it is ridiculous Buster: You could still get on my lap though, it'd just be a tight squeeze, you'd have to stay still if you didn't wanna get stuck Rio: I wouldn't mind being stuck with you Buster: You just don't wanna stay still Rio: 😏 it shouldn't be want it should be can't Buster: There's no can't, I'd make you Buster: If that's what I want Rio: Daddy Rio: make me Buster: I will, I'm strong too Buster: You know that Rio: gotta be Rio: not making it easy for you Buster: I don't want easy Rio: I know what you want Buster: You know what I need, baby Rio: Me Rio: why I'm yours Buster: Jesus, every time you say that I just Rio: Wait 'til I say it and you're inside me Rio: that's heaven Buster: Fuck Buster: I had to just pretend cough then Rio: I'm sure it was very convincing, babe Buster: I don't care Rio: You don't? Buster: Only about you Rio: Buster I Rio: when can I come see you, really Buster: Now Rio: Serious Buster: When am I not? Rio: Fair Rio: is this insane or Buster: No more insane than Indie nearly killing a kid on the night we were finally gonna be together or my Dad & Granddad showing up exactly when you did or me thinking I could avoid you for the rest of my life Buster: & That's not even half of the shit that's happened or hasn't Rio: Yeah Rio: I feel like I might go slightly insane if we keep having to live like that, year after year Rio: this is a sensible solution, really Buster: I won't do it Buster: If you don't come to me, I'll fly back Rio: You've gotta stay Rio: I'll do it, I'm coming Buster: When? Rio: Give me a couple of days to square this with everyone Rio: I can pay for half of it Buster: Fuck that, you need money, I don't Rio: Come on Rio: I can't let you pay for everything Buster: You come on Buster: My parents are so happy I'm here & haven't fucked it up yet that they've really outdone themselves Rio: Are you happy too Buster: Irrelevant Buster: I'm here & I haven't fucked it up yet Rio: I wanna know still Rio: but it's good Rio: you should be proud Buster: I'll be proud when I've done shit to be proud of Buster: All that's bare minimum Rio: Yeah but your bare minimum is better than most's best Buster: Doesn't mean I should settle for it Buster: I don't ever wanna settle for anything Rio: You don't have to Buster: That's one thing America has got going for it, go big or go the fuck home Rio: That's the dream, init Buster: If I stay until August I might even find egos that come close to the size of mine Buster: Work ethic too, like Rio: I knew you liked it Buster: I won't find the latter among these rich kids though, Christ Buster: I thought I liked spending my parents money but fucking hell Rio: I can only imagine how spoilt they are Rio: but I'd rather not Rio: not a turn-on Buster: I'll show you when you get here Buster: It'll make you really love me Rio: Yeah? Rio: Surprised you can think about spending any time outside the hotel room but I'm up for the challenge if you are, babe 😉 Buster: You've turned me on in so many classes, it's only fair that you get a taste of your own medicine Buster: The more public the better Rio: Fair probably ain't the word Rio: but failing me right now so Buster: You leave school & your vocabulary goes to shit, yeah? Buster: Poor baby Rio: If you don't wanna own what you've done to me Rio: we can say it's that Buster: I'd rather do more to you but until you get here, I'll own it Rio: Wait Rio: what's the date Buster: 28th Rio: Fuck Rio: I have to be here Rio: it's Indie's birthday and I have to stop that from getting out of hand, much as she'll love me for that Rio: I promised I'd take her shopping somewhere good instead Buster: Fuck's sake Rio: I know, I totally forgot that was coming up so soon Rio: I'm sorry Buster: For all your mothering you didn't actually give birth to her, it ain't your fault Rio: If I thought I could count on Drew, like Buster: You can't Buster: Just come after Rio: 'Course Rio: gives me more time to hopefully get it right with work anyway Buster: Yeah Rio: It's my brother's birthday tomorrow Rio: how did I forget Buster: Which one? Buster: Must be hard to remember them all Rio: Shut up Rio: Gus Rio: my head's all over the place Buster: Do you want an apology or what, like? Rio: Are you likely to give one Rio: anyway, don't worry, some other guy, like Buster: Good to know Rio: Not really but you know Buster: It's a relief for me, I'd hate to be under the illusion that my attention is all consuming Rio: Well he's persistent Rio: as I said Buster: He's a headfuck is what you mean Buster: Nice to know I ain't the only one Rio: Is it Buster: 'Course Buster: Not gonna take his share of the blame, only my sins Rio: Tah Buster: Sort your head out & get back to me Rio: Are you serious Buster: I already told you, when am I not Rio: You also said you gave a shit Rio: but alright Buster: I give more of a shit about myself though, don't I? Buster: What do you expect Rio: Not asking you for otherwise Buster: Don't Rio: I won't Rio: may as well go over now though Rio: talk later Buster: Alright Rio: [Later] Rio: It's done Buster: Good Rio: Yeah Buster: Tell me you're okay Rio: I'm good Rio: it's sorted now Buster: Come on Buster: Talk to me Rio: You don't wanna know Rio: you don't need to Buster: Rio Rio: What Rio: I told you it'd be bad Buster: How bad was it though? Buster: Seriously Rio: I didn't know who to call Rio: Drew was the only person I could think of Buster: What happened? Rio: He was just really angry Rio: he'd been doing lines like all day so Buster: Did he hurt you? I'll fucking kill him Rio: No not really Rio: he was just trying to scare me Buster: & Did he? Buster: 'Cause I'll scare him well worse Rio: He doesn't scare me Buster: I'm sorry Rio: Why Rio: not your fault Buster: I told you to go & sort it Buster: & I'm not even there Rio: I couldn't stay with him 'til August Rio: it's been too long already Buster: I know but I'm still sorry Rio: Drew came so Buster: Of course he did Rio: Don't Rio: I don't know how that would've ended up if he hadn't Buster: Tell him that Buster: He'll love hearing it Rio: You really think he'd use something like that for his own gain Buster: Why not? Rio: Because that's sick Rio: and I'm an absolute mess so it isn't the turn-on anyone is after Buster: Oh so he does one half decent thing & now he's a saint, yeah? Buster: Like what he did to Indie's mum weren't sick Buster: Like she wasn't a mess Buster: Okay Rio: That was a complicated situation Rio: that we don't know nothing about Rio: we weren't there Buster: Not from where I'm standing Buster: Don't treat people like that. Simple as Rio: She asked for the drugs Rio: he's a dealer, that's what he does Rio: debate the morality of it all you like Buster: She didn't ask to have a kid Rio: Well he didn't want her either Buster: Then he should have done something about it Buster: It weren't the Middle Ages Rio: Maybe he did Rio: you can't force someone to get an abortion Buster: Shower him with these compliments, babe Rio: I don't need to Rio: but I don't need to villanize him either Buster: Ask your sister if she agrees with that when she gets to our age Buster: You know, your actual one who don't exist to him Rio: Don't bring my family into this Rio: this whole conversation is irrelevant Rio: I needed help, he came, simple as Buster: They already are in it Buster: If he wants to play the hero so bad he could start there Rio: Edie doesn't need him, she's got a dad Buster: Indie does, but you're the one helping her Buster: What, even now are you? Rio: Exactly, why do you wanna put that in Edie's life if he's so shit Rio: you don't care, you're just mad Buster: Obviously Buster: Why would I care? We're only related Rio: And that means something now, yeah Buster: Fuck you Rio: Sure Buster: You know me when it fucking suits you Rio: You're gonna have to go harder if you wanna insult me today, sorry Buster: It's clearly a fact not an insult Rio: Facts are only facts when it suits you so what do I care Buster: Why don't you just fuck him & get it over with? Rio: Because the build-up is my favourite part, obviously Rio: suit your narrative well enough Buster: My narrative? You're the one who won't vilify him but are so quick to judge me Rio: Literally when have I judged you? Rio: Just 'cos I don't let you talk like shit to me when I've clearly had enough for one day Buster: Literally just now for not holding my sister's hand tightly enough or whatever the fuck else that thinly veiled implication was meant to mean Rio: Literally not even what I meant Rio: so you've gone there yourself Rio: I was referring to the way you've barely spoke to any of my siblings in years so it's rich to act like you care Rio: try and deny that Buster: That's why I can't Buster: 'Cause I care about you more & I don't need the reminders that we're all supposed to be one big, happy family Rio: Well, we ain't, are we Rio: and me and you, specifically, we're fucked up Buster: Don't Rio: That's what he said Rio: and he don't know the half of it Buster: Fuck him Buster: He doesn't know anything Rio: Nah Rio: some of it rang true Buster: Don't mean it is, it just means he got to you Rio: Same difference Buster: No Buster: He knows how to hurt you, what to say, that's it Buster: I've done it, I'm fully aware what the difference is Rio: Yeah, I'm easy, thanks Rio: double entendre Buster: Shut up Rio: Don't tell me to shut up Buster: Don't talk like that & I won't Rio: I'll talk however I want Rio: you do Buster: Christ's sake, Rio Rio: What Buster: Just stop Rio: I have Buster: You know what I mean Rio: Fine Buster: Don't lie Rio: It ain't but what are you gonna do about it Buster: Anything I can Buster: Anything you want Rio: You can't be here, I can't be there Rio: what's the point Buster: The point is, I wanna be Buster: I told you, that should count for something Rio: How long 'fore you're bored of that Buster: Well, it's already been years Buster: I'm still waiting, ain't I? Rio: Like you said, how was avoiding me forever gonna work out for you Buster: Just tell me what you want me to do Rio: I don't know Rio: if I did, it wouldn't be a problem, would it Buster: So I'm a problem Rio: Oh my God no Rio: not everything is about you Buster: I know that Buster: Literally nothing is about me Buster: Your boyfriend or Drew or Indie but not me Rio: What are you on about? Buster: It's self explanatory Rio: We can't prioritize each other Rio: you can't me, I can't you Buster: Then what's the point Rio: I don't know Rio: you said that's not what you wanted Buster: All I've ever said I wanted was you Buster: But that's not gonna happen Buster: Not if I'm the last option on your fucking list Rio: You aren't Buster: Bullshit Buster: Do you know how many girls would love to prioritise me & do? Rio: Then let them Buster: Fine Rio: Are you kidding me Buster: As big of a joke as all this has become, no Rio: All because I can't come to see you right this second Buster: 'Cause this isn't me. I don't wait around & I don't come last Buster: Who the fuck do you think I am or you are? Rio: If that's what you want Buster: That's the point, I'm not getting what I want from you Rio: Whatever you say Buster: What I'm saying is, I'm done fooling myself that this can be something it's not Rio: Thanks for wasting my time Buster: You too Buster: But my dad would say anything that gets your heart racing is worth doing, so maybe hit him up next time Rio: Will do Buster: Alright Buster: I'll unavoidably see you around Rio: You're still no better at this, huh Rio: tragic Buster: You wish, babe Rio: I don't waste 'em Buster: Starting now? 'Cause I've got news for you otherwise Rio: Nothing you're saying right now is news Buster: Good, it's no surprise then Buster: You'll get the fuck over it quicker Rio: Keep telling yourself that, babe Buster: I'm not the one who has to talk myself into things Rio: Just out Rio: Cool Buster: At least I know when to get out Rio: Fuck you Buster: Go fuck yourself Buster: Or better yet, Drew Rio: Stop living vicariously and make something happen Buster: Not my type Buster: All yours Rio: Yeah Rio: Obviously Rio: I know how to pick 'em Buster: Yeah Buster: Obviously Rio: Well thanks, this really made me feel better Buster: Not everything is about you, Cavante Rio: You have no idea Buster: 'Course not Buster: I don't understand anything Rio: You aren't trying to so Rio: don't feel bad Buster: I don't Rio: Mhmm Buster: Are you done? Buster: We've both got other priorities, remember Rio: Whatever Buster: I'll take that as a yeah Rio: You've taken everything else the wrong way Rio: why stop now Rio: you've committed to the bit and everything Buster: Gotta commit to something, babe Buster: Speaking of, I have to go Buster: This match ain't gonna play itself Rio: Later Rio: 🍀

I'm mad! I'm mad as hell and I don't want to take it anymore!

But I don't know what to do about it.

I tried talking to my scheduling manager about getting some more regular hours and she said basically, she couldn't. I'm currently working about four shifts a week, generally about four to six hours a shift. Over the course of the next two scheduled weeks, I work twenty-two and twenty-four scheduled hours, and I'm only making about ten dollars an hour. She isn't even offering to give me like, a consistent slot, to make it easier to pick up a second job. All I can think to do is to start looking again and hope I find something that at least pays better.

It just pisses me off that the food I serve is about nine to twelve dollars a plate but my employer can't afford to give me a livable wage and would rather hire a bunch of employees at part time and they get incentives to do this. I would almost rather be jobless than a statistic for jobs "created". It doesn't make any sense to me--you still have to fill those hours, why not fucking give people hours they can live on? I'm not fucking making it anywhere on less than a thousand dollars a month. Thank god I don't have to pay rent because it wouldn't happen. I feel like I'd almost be better off unemployed.

In theory, I appreciate having the time to devote to my craft. Working less than forty hours gives me a little money to live on and the kind of time I can really put into sculpting charms, pins and earrings and such. I can probably easily build a decent stockpile of charms for Valentines day and I'll still have money coming in to put toward a display for in-person events, toward finishing details like glaze, other jewelry findings like studs and pin backs, backer cards, and little zip pouches. I can probably even afford more clay when I ran out.

I shouldn't have to rent a room in someone's house or live with seven friends to be able to afford to live my life.

It makes me furious that this would never, ever be a job market that I would ask to be part of. If you're not going to give me hours I can live on, an employer should be required to give me earnings I can live on. I'm not even asking for something wild and unreasonable--I honestly think $1000 to $1500 a month is kind of still low-balling people. I think a lot of employers would sing a real different song if they had to choose between giving employees ten dollars an hour for forty hours versus fifteen an hour for twenty hours.

I deeply resent that this job market was decided for me before I had a political voice.

I deeply resent that my political voice is more a token than real power.

I don't have words to describe how much I resent having to marry my passion and love for a thing with my need to scrabble for some kind of financial betterment.

It guts me that I'm choosing between underemployment or a job that couldn't pay me enough to make up for the chronic depression I would suffer either working third shiff or factory.

I didn't ask for this. I feel like all I can do is hope that I can make enough of the right decisions that eventually, I'm not just hoping for pocket change, but I no longer have to rely on being underemployed and barely making it paycheck to paycheck. But a creative career takes the kind of time and stability I simply haven't had for almost four years now. All I can do right now is maximize on the stability I have for the moment.

My friend's step-grandma says he's not going to choose between me and his girlfriend because he doesn't have to. She says she's lived with his girlfriend and she's fake. As soon as she finds a man who can give her more than my friend can, she'll be gone. My friend's step-grandma wants me to know and believe that if there's better for me elsewhere, I have to believe enough that I deserve it, and go get it. She doesn't want me just waiting around for her grandson to decide he wants me.

I want to believe that he's starting to hear me, and to believe that I want to be with him, but that I have the strength to leave him.

Last night, as I was laying down to sleep, he thanked me for helping, he admitted that he gives me a hard time, but he appreciates having me around. That meant a lot to hear. I don't just want him to want me for the stability of getting to live in his parents' home or the stability of having two incomes. I've been through a lot with him and because of him. I've put a lot into getting to understand and know him as more than just some character from a forum or some internet friend. It's not every day that the more you get to know someone, the better you like them. It's not even every day, the more bad things you get to know about a person, that you continue to be okay with who they are.

It would be the deepest shame to not even give him a chance to see that there must be a reason his family likes me better than her. It would also be a shame to just leave because I'm not immediately getting what I want. It would be such a waste to just leave and realize I really will never feel the same about him again because he's let me go too many times. But I have to admit to myself that the biggest waste would be giving him the time to see me, and continuing to stay when it becomes apparent that he will never.

It may come to fruition that I leave and explain to him, I'm leaving because I've worked so hard to be good enough for you, but you still want her and I need to do more with my life than just wait for you. I may tell all his friends, it was her or me, and encourage them to try to get through to him, and he will still make my leaving whatever he wants it to be.

If this is the way it has to be, then maybe that's how it was always meant to be.

Where to keep Emergency Funds

We all know how important it is to have an emergency fund, but actual execution is slightly more complicated. For example, where do we keep that fund? Cold cash under the mattress, a spending account, a savings account, CDs?

The ideal emergency fund is one that is liquid, easily accessible, and maintains its value over time.

First: Liquid. When something is liquid it means that it's easily convertible to cash. Many trading securities are considered liquid because it's easy to sell them on the open market. Though some securities with very little trading may be considered less liquid as it's harder to sell. When it comes to emergency funds I generally use a higher standard for 'liquidity' sure I could sell all my Logitech on Robinhood, but it would take a couple days for that sell to settle, then a couple more for the money to transfer to my account. So while stock is usually liquid, it's not generally liquid enough for emergency funds.

This point ties into the second factor of how easy is it to access your money? Things like checking and savings accounts at your bank are going to be at the top of the list of accessibility, as is actual cash. This is where my mind starts spinning all sorts of possibilities.

What if you leave your wallet at home? Along with all your cash and cards?

What if all your cash is in your savings account with the slightly higher interest rate, and you don't have the (phone) data to move it to your checking account for an emergency purchase?

What if an increasingly unlikely event happens so you don't have access to money when you need it!

My point here is that, anxiety based stressing aside, there are a few situations you want to be prepared for.

The third point you want to watch for is an account that will maintain the value of your money over time. Inflation is reducing the buying power of our dollars all the time, so any account holding the money will ideally have sufficient returns to offset inflation. Unfortunately this is an ideal, and I don't know of an account type with all three benefits yet.

CDs (certificates of deposit) are an investing type that I've heard some people suggest for such an account, however there are some drawbacks in attempting to use them as an emergency fund. The biggest one is liquidity, you want access to your emergency fund just in case there's an emergency. And with the inflation rate around 2% a year CDs just can't compete. Even a 2 year CD only has returns around 0.75% (this is just based on me looking for CDs - I'm sure there's higher ones). But a 2 year CD ties your money up for 2 years!! And the shorter 1 month ones have rates closer to 0.1% - and Chime has those beat without tying your money up at all.

Long story short, good luck finding an account that's easily accessible and will keep up with the inflation rate.

As with all investing, the safer you are the lower returns you're going to get. I keep three main emergency fund sources, and balance the cash to return across those three. Here's my balance of accessibility versus 'returns':

I keep about $50 worth of $2 bills in my car at all times. I like $2 bills so it's unlikely that I will ever spend them unless I absolutely have to, and if I ever get into a position where I'm running low on gas and don't have my wallet on me I can pay with cash. I, of course, worry about getting some young kid who thinks that $2 bills aren't real and refuses to take them - but I have hopes that I can either prove it via google or sell them to other customers in the store. So I think that risk is acceptable. The downside here is cash earns no returns, and loses value to inflation. That $50 is worth about $4 less in purchasing power now than it was when I put it in the car. And had I invested it would be worth $75 (based on the returns of the only investment I had at the time). Nevertheless, it's a small amount, and it could save my ass someday. So it stays in the car. This was the first 'emergency fund' I ever had, and I started building it from the day I started working at a pizza place, every time someone paid with a $2 bill I bought it out of the till.

I keep about $1,000 in my account (plus my paychecks). This money doesn't earn any interest, so similar to the cash it's actually losing value the longer it's in the account. If I were better at tracking my personal finance I would have a much lower safety cushion and would have enough money in my checking account to pay the bills, and immediately transfer out excess cash into higher interest savings accounts. But I'm not, it's something I'm working on. And for now, I will leave a pile of cash in the account just in case a bill hits that I forgot about. This was my second emergency fund, if you could call it that. Initially I just transferred out $10 or $20 a month from my checking account into my savings account, then as time passed I slowly built enough in my savings account to start making deliberate decisions about how much I kept in my checking account versus my savings account.

I keep about $6,000 in my Chime high-yield savings account. This isn't the best investment, and while Chime has a great interest rate for a bank account my returns could be much higher in real investment accounts. However, $6,000 is about 6 months of expenses should I lose my job, or it is enough to cover major car repairs. And because of the way I was raise I'm very risk adverse when it comes to daily money and spending. I could probably have an emergency fund of $3,000 and invest the other $3,000 with very little to worry about. But I prefer the peace of mind I have knowing that I have that fund. This is my most recent account, it was just last year that I started shifting my normal bank's savings account funds to Chime instead and started earning 5x the interest rate.

Everything else goes straight into the stock market. I'm young so my portfolio is 100% stocks and funds. I started my first investing account when I was 18, but didn't start contributing consistently to a retirement account until I was 20 and had a 401(k) match.

Your own emergency fund may look very different from mine. Maybe you're willing to only have 3 months in emergency funds. Maybe you're willing to keep that in funds, and risk the volatile market and delay in getting the cash.

Maybe you use a different account type, or different cash allocations. I'd love to learn about how you save.