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fairycosmos · 4 years

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3. I know i have to 'get out there' but it's hard when you've felt your whole life that nobody likes you. i literally only have one friend. i just feel really hopeless... i feel like im not meant for this kind of life, everything feels wrong and like im waiting for something's never gonna come, some kinda magic. i want of life of adventure and paint and write but instead i have to study because i'd feel like a loser w/o an education. i dont mind working i just dont want to study.

hey love, i'm really sorry to hear that. i think it's totally normal to be disappointed and even more so to be unsure about your future - it's not an indicator of failure, it's a natural part of growing up and finding your place in the world. i'm probably ignorant and don't know what it's like to actually be in your shoes, so i apologize if i come across as frustrating at some points. this is just my perspective. but i'm wondering if maybe taking more time away is an option for you? maybe working somewhere, focusing on your mental health for a while.... because the thing is your level of education has nothing to do with your worth as a person, and even more than that, there's no set time scale for this sort of thing. you could go back to college at 35, and it wouldn't matter. your life doesn't have to follow that stereotypical linear trajectory we're all forced to chase, in order for you to find happiness and success. and you don't have to justify your own personal choices to anyone, least of all to yourself. i just think it's important to try to focus on the factors of living that are in your control, that will bring you a sense of stability and peace. i know it's hard to let go of the internalised capitalistic idea of having to prove yourself through academia and getting a 'good job', but it's always useful to remind yourself of just how exploitative and made up that entire construct is. you're here and you're experiencing the world and with that you are fulfilling your point, you are doing enough. you are enough. everything else is background noise, that we're forced to muddle through, but background noise nonetheless. you don't need anyone's permission to prioritize your own needs and wants.

however, if you're dead set on studying this topic you don't like (which, i totally understand why you'd make that choice bc i know it's not that simple), then i reckon it's alright to just let yourself feel shitty for a while. any sadness, anger, disappointment, pain you feel about it is to be expected - and even though it fuckin sucks to have to carry it, its intensity definitely won't last. one way or another, you will adapt and so will your ability to cope. just don't use those emotions as an excuse to engage in self destructive behaviour, cause that'll only perpetuate the cycle and keep you in a dark place. having to force ourselves to do shit we hate is always going to feel like an everlasting burden we're never going to escape from, even if that's not the case in reality. and i had a lot of experience with that in school too - the main tactic i can remember making a difference, was like you said, finding little things to make the weight of it more bearable. i think that often starts first and foremost with our own mental health before anything else, because it controls the filter through which we see the world. if you don't like it in yourself you won't like it anywhere. when it comes to your social anxiety, are you receiving any support/would you be open to that? i think consistently seeing someone while you're in school - whether that's a counselor, a therapist, attending a support group or even just calling a hotline to begin with - could really help you manage the stress you're so afraid is waiting for you. having someone to talk to and learning why you are the way you are, and what tools could help you specifically in terms of coping mechanisms and finding a support network can honestly do wonders for your self esteem and the way you approach others. and of course it takes time, maybe that brand of self care is a lifelong process, but it's still important to engage with it. so balancing school with prioritizing your own wellbeing might be something that lightens the weight of the experience. anxiety tends to have us anticipating worst case scenarios and drawing on old insecurities to convince us we'll be alone and in pain forever, but what you've been through is truly not a mirror image of where you're going. making friends especially as an adult is fuckin hard, and struggling with it doesn't mean there's something irreparably wrong with you. just means it's hard to get to know ppl, but that's not a personal failing on your part. it's just a fact. most of them are too worried about their own 'flaws' to take note of yours. but that doesn't mean there aren't ppl out there you haven't met yet who will love you, even if that's hard to believe rn. also a side note, it could be a good idea to build up a routine where you're engaging in something that actively makes you happy at least a few times a week. can literally just be watching netflix, or taking up a hobby, meditating, going for a walk - i know college is v busy and it may not always be possible, but having small pockets of deliberate down time to look forward to is crucial. im not saying it'll cure everything or anything, just that it might make it all feel less overwhelming. but lastly, i want to say that it's ok if you give it a go and then decide you can't do it. that's an option, too. it doesn't have to be black and white. don't fault yourself for not wanting to spend 3 years doing something you hate, but also know that it's possible to get through it if it's a means to an end for you, especially if you seek the help you need. and whichever choice you go with, neither of them are 'wrong.' it's just your path.

anyway, i'm sorry this got super long. i think discussing it with someone you trust might be a good move, just to know that they have your back whether you work through uni or not. you're honestly doing so much better than you realize and i'm proud of you for continuing to try and strive despite how painful it all is. but i really hope that you can catch yourself when your brain is being unnecessarily unkind to you, and that you can then make the conscious choice to change the narrative and approach it from a place of patience and self appreciation. i think your life is still worth living even if it doesn't match up to where you think you should be, which is something i've been trying to accept lately too. that so much is beyond our control and we can literally only focus on the silver linings of the factors that are in our hands. that we can still be okay, living like that. and none of this is permanent, not the way it often seems like it is, but especially not the confusion. it just takes time to live the answers to all the existential questions you have. take it a day at a time. ANYWAY im rooting for you with all my heart and if you want to talk about this properly feel free to message me!! my overarching point is that you're not as alone as you feel. and you won't be in college, and you won't be if you look for work instead. so many of us understand where you're coming from. much love to you, take care 💗💗

#one day i will learn to stfu. not today tho❤️#long post #anon

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

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Second First Meeting (Sally x Reader Part 2)

Someone one on wattpad wanted a part two for so I decided to write this cuz the series stories are taking forever to get write.

Part 1

I’m gonna shove some prompts into a generator to get numbers so I can work on some shorter stories while I work on the longer series.

Also let me know if this was alright because I usually don’t post straight after writing a story.

So, what now?

A ghost and a human trapped in a room together. One bound to the hotel, the other free to escape at any point. One was free to age and what it’s like to grow old, the second, frozen in time. Who had better off?

People always wished they could be 18 forever, was this a similar concept? Though she wasn’t 18 and hadn’t been for years, she’d live on long after your buried in the ground.

You had the ability to age, to change with time and the ability to go wherever you’d like.

Immortality was a curse, as was mortality. It was the same end of a shitty knife. Possibly, some people were better off with one rather than another, but who chose the person that got what? Was it the work of a benevolent god or the devil?

“I could never move on Sal,” you said, more for yourself than her. “You’re one of a kind.”

She scoffed. Rolling her eyes at your cliché words. They were true. You’d never fallen for anyone harder than you had with her and never anyone since. Why was it so hard to believe?

“I’m glad you’re not dead- well you are but- you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” She did but she wanted you to say it anyway.

“Okay, I’m happy to see you again, even if it’s for a moment and under these circumstances.”

You felt the mattress tip as the woman your back faced crawled closer. Within a second, you felt a knife pulled to your throat. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere, any time soon,” she whispered into your ear.

“Sally-” You gasped out. The blade cold against your skin.

“Oh, hush, I’ll make it quick then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Okay.”

“What?” She was taken aback. No one ever said yes or wanted to stay. There must be a catch, there always was.

“You can do it but if do you do, I’ll never talk to you again.”

There it was.

“That’s not how this works-”

“Yes, it is. You may have power over me this instant but once I’m dead, there’s nothing stopping me from ignoring your ass.”

Sally ran your threat through her head before retracking her knife.

“I don’t need you anyway, you old bastard,” She pulled away from you completely and went back to her spot against the headboard. “I can find someone better.”

She couldn’t. When she found out it was you, she set her sights on getting you back. You were everything once and the taste of you lingered throughout your absence. The love she had for you left a whole in her heart that no amount of killing could solve, even if that person was you.

“Give me a week.”

Sally was confused. You didn’t notice as you had yet to turn around and face her. Looking at her made everything harder. All rationality out the window. You’d lived on, why would you give it away for some high school sweetheart you had? High school flings never lasted how long yours did, they usually end once the two become adults. Maybe you were good for each other or at least compatible.

“A week to get my affairs in order,” you continued. “I go out the right way.”

“And that way is?”

“The way it should have been all those years ago.” You stood up, checking your wallet was still in your pocket. “You got a phone?” Sally nodded. You scribbled down your phone number on a random piece of paper before leaving it the vanity. “I’ll see you next week.”

Sally didn’t stop you. She believed your words; they were the first words she’d believed in years. She waited a week unsure of what to expect from when you returned… if you- no you would, Sally convinced herself. You had to. You wouldn’t lie again.

She had your number; she could text you at any time. She saved your digits into her cell. Her pointer finger occasionally hovered over the call button, never actually pressing it. Who was she kidding? You wouldn’t return.

She sat slumped at the bench drinking some whiskey, Liz had served her. The two had spoken about you countless times since you left the show early. She complemented Sally for not killing you though she wanted to. Sally was lost once again by your absence. Liz suggested she use her emotions and put it towards a song, but Sally couldn’t be bothered. She’d rather wallow in her own self-pity at the current time than use her pain constructively.

“Can I get a (alcoholic beverage) also a refill the pretty blonde?” Someone said as they sat down beside Sally. Once Sally got her refill, she swigged the drink down, then turned her attention to the person next to her.

“Y/N?” Sally went wide eyed. “You’re early.”

“Better than late,” You said taking a sip of your drink. “Also, I needed to make it up to you.”

“What do you have planned?” Sally asked still wondering what you meant but the way you should have gone out long ago.

“I’ll explain in our room,” you said pulling out your room key. She cocked her brow at ‘our’. “I doubt I’ll need the key after today but no one else will be needing it either.” You bought out the room so no one will ever be given out again. You payed enough for the hotel to be able to run for centuries on the money you gave alone.

“We can go to my room now.”

“There’s no rush. I only just sat down.” You looked her up and down sensing her impatience. “Fine,” you sighed and downed your drink. Your next sentence was directed to Liz, “you might want to warn the maid that we’ll need a clean-up in-” You looked down at your Rolex, “an hour, maybe two.” You would have told Iris to warn Ms Evers, but she wasn’t at the reception desk at the time.

Neither spoke until you got to Sally’s room. Your belongings were still there from when you up and left less than a week ago.

There was the addition of a few shopping bags of gifts you got for Sally, another suitcase of belongings and a questionable black leather purse (of sorts) tied together shut with leather. You allowed the blonde to enter the room before yourself. You shut the door behind you, closing off the world from your lives for a short time.

You headed over to the black bag opening it to reveal a clean needle and enough china white to knock someone dead.

“Oh~ That’s what you meant.” She understood now. It was the way it should have been. They way you both would have gone if it weren’t for her leaving.

“That or the window,” you said.

“I prefer this way.” It was more personal and fit your former life well.

“Would you like to do the honours?”

Sally took the needle you held out to her. You stepped out of the way and allowed her to prepare your death sentence.

Death may be for some people but not for either of you. In your last few minutes, you’d come to conclusion that though your life was about to end, it only just begun.

You wished you visited the Cortez sooner. Wished you were younger, more appealing not that she minded. You wish you never ran; you wish you ran for longer. Stayed away and also never left when you found her here. You wanted everything you couldn’t have. You were okay with that. It was to late not to be. This was the best outcome. She finally had you after all these years. So many people died as she searched for a replacement when only one person really had to die, you. Now you could be together forever.

So, what was next, you asked. The start of your life.

#sally mckenna x reader #hypodermic sally x reader

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cynicaldesire · 3 years

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I am constantly worried for a friend of ours that he doesn’t have a healthy relationship with this wife, or that his wife is somehow not... healthy for him. Like he seems happy and I don’t talk to him or them enough to have a good understanding, but the limited view I do have is setting up a bunch of red flags. My husband keeps reminding me that I need to relax and it’s not really my problem and like... they both seem to have trauma that they are trying to ameliorate and, like, fine, no therapy works the same for everyone and just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean it isn’t actually good.

I didn’t want to make this a long post, but I’m thinking about it, so I’ll post what I want to feel less crazy about and then Read More the rest.

He was talking about how he needs a job because they can’t really survive on her income alone. He said he didn’t want to get a job doing something like driving a truck because it’s hell on your body and you run the risk of getting in late. The example he used was he doesn’t want to get in at like 6am and not want to wake up his wife because she has to get up and go to work and she needs her rest so he’d have to sleep on the couch so he doesn’t bother her.

I have been going over this scenario repeatedly trying to figure out why this was.... one of the issues with it and like... my husband even asked on my behalf if the scenario was from our friend’s own compassion and not his wife’s idea of how that would go down. He was cool about it, which I thought was weird, and said of course, it’s his own compassion.

As a military brat and my father having driven a production truck, I cannot fathom the idea of being angry that my husband came home and woke me up to get into bed after a long, harrowing drive. I cannot comprehend the concept of not welcoming my husband into bed, cuddling and kissing and getting him warmed up in winter, spooning, and going back to sleep with my partner. It doesn’t make sense to me. And that our friend’s wife doesn’t also say WTF, babe, just come to bed! boggles my mind.

I’m paranoid, of course. Because we drove about an hour after this conversation to Costco and my husband told me, after like the 4th time I had talked this over with him, that I was something odd. I asked what he meant and he said I was a pretty consummate military wife/brat. I didn’t understand what he meant but, I mean, I watched my parents deal with both military and trucking.

But I guess how paranoid am I?

I said it would be short, Haha.

But like, our friend quit his job a couple years ago at the behest of his wife who said he should become a personal trainer. He got certified in it and everything. He quit before he had a new job despite our protests and then was unemployed for a while, turning to try to become something of a streamer while he was job hunting. Because even though she encouraged him to quit his job with his Tr*mp-supporter boss, they can’t really afford their lifestyle on just one salary. But also trying to be a streamer wasn’t happening so he was forced to be the only white guy at a construction job provided him by his abusive Tr*mp-supporter father. He got let go from that due to COVID and has been mostly unemployed since, after a brief stint as a face character at Six Flags. And now he’s learning code so he can get a job doing code because she doesn’t want to work and finish her degree and would rather just do her job that involves monopolizing his time and his computer. Her job requires some graphical work and his desktop is the only one powerful enough to help her do it, so he just... works on his shitty laptop doing minimal stuff on the internet like learning code from codecademy.

Where this ties in to my own personal traumas and I think I’m projecting onto him, is where my family would demand I get a job because, they said, they worried I would be able to make it in the world without them because I had no skills, no job, nothing and I would probably end up under a bridge if they ever died suddenly. Or maybe I wasn’t doing enough around the house, didn’t do the dishes often enough or didn’t keep the house clean enough and therefore I needed to do something to earn my keep because family of 5 fats can’t work on 1 salary and whatnot. So when people start demanding I get jobs, the only time I ever really looked for jobs was in A State after a big fight with my parents. I get like... triggered now whenever my husband is like Hey, maybe if we teach you Japanese you can get a job in Japan! Just immediately want to panic, get angry, and/or cry. So I worry that our friend’s wife is giving him a different kind of complex about jobs and work. Especially after she’s the one that encouraged him to quit his job, since she’s now pissy about the fact that he doesn’t have one.

But then there’s the small things like her being a manic pixie dream girl like coming over while he’s on a discord voice chat with us to say my husband is a Cheeto. When my husband is understandably confused, says he is like the Essesnce of Cheeto. Or when Classic WoW first dropped, our friend was trying to get back into it with us because it’s a bit of a unifying nostalgia game for our friendgroup, she kept showing up and being annoying in the background like showing up with their cat in a dinosaur costume. He even sounded mildly annoyed and asked her to stop because he doesn’t get to spend much time with us.

Which, you know, isolation from friends is classic abuse. But he has access to other friends that are not us. So its possible that she just doesn’t approve of his video game hobby when it involves us. Which, our friend isn’t a big fan of me personally, so I assume she might just be trying to save him from hanging out with me. I have achieved low self-esteem lately, having the clarity to replay interactions and say Ah, I was sounding real aggressive and bitchy, maybe that’s why people hate me. Or, in the middle of telling a story when I am met with silence, my brain works fast enough to say THEY CAN’T EXTRAPOLATE, YOU GOTTA FINISH STRONG, so I do and I get the laughs and I say I did it, I won, I’m going to get a good grade. But my sister also monopolized my time in a way that made it impossible for me to make or keep friends, and even got pissed when I was trying to make new friends because the friend I was trying to make was a guy that she was trying to fuck and my presence was a cockblock. Story for another time.

Or the time that our friend, because of his construction job, worked very early in the morning and thus was very tired in the evening. But his wife wanted to go to a screening of The Room and rather than let him stay home or maybe just don’t go, they went to this screening and our friend had to stay up for like 24hours. She’s the one that encouraged him to quit, pushed him into getting a new job, and then still asked to go to the movie knowing he was exhausted? Like... I wouldn’t have even considered it a possibility or I would ask a thousand times if he was sure or if he wanted a nap or something.

But, you know, I’m biased. I have a hard time being friends with women that are significant others of our friendgroup. I want everyone to be supportive and kind, into the same hobbies, willing to engage, maybe not be super weird. But I think I just want that in everyone. Which is probably my I have so few friends myself. I have high standards. I’m trying to lower those by being aware of them. Which means people like Amber are now counted among my friends.

Point of this post, though, is to ascertain my level of incorrectness. How wrong am I about their relationship? Lemme know.

#about me #delete later #i have some concerns

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colbybrocksmolder · 5 years

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Arizona – Colby Brock x Reader PART 1/3

“Y/n!” Mike yelled into the car’s speaker. His phone was connected via Bluetooth.

“Hey, hey, hey, little brother. You guys actually make it out of LA before noon?” you asked, putting your phone on speaker. You were currently putting away all of the groceries you had purchased for Mike and his friends.

“We’re actually pulling into phoenix right now.” He answered, the rest of the boys in the car cheering. “With traffic, we’re right under an hour away.”

“Wow, and everyone sounds awake.” You laughed. “Are you guys coming straight here or are you going out? If you want, I can have some bomb ass Mexican food waiting for you.”

“Don’t make me drool in the rental.” Aryia said.

“We’ll head straight there.” Mike answered. “Just make sure to make some super white boy shit for Colby. He can’t handle spice.”

“Hey! My momma taught me better than that.” Colby reached forward to smack Mike. “I’ll eat whatever you want to cook for us.” He assured you.

“Oooo the new kid sounds like he has some country manners.” You laughed. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t make all of it spicy.”

“Thank you.” Colby said, Aryia poking and teasing him for his blushy cheeks.

“We’ll see you soon.” Mike said, hanging up the phone.

A few years ago, you’d bought a huge house just outside the city and for the most part, you lived alone. More often than not, someone was crashing at your house, though. It’s how you liked it. Whether it was your friends, family, or your family’s friends…you liked having a place for the people you cared about to escape to. Mike made this trip a few times a year. Sometimes he’d come alone and sometimes he brought a few friends. The last few times he had dragged Kevin and Aryia along, but for the first time in a while he was bringing a new friend.

You heard the car horn in the driveway when Mike and his friends pulled up. You pulled the plates out and got everything set up for them to eat. When the door opened you ran to hug your little brother. “Put me down!” you laughed, Mike letting your feet dangle for a few more seconds.

“I don’t wanna. I missed you.” Mike pouted.

“It smells like heaven in here.” Kevin said, pulling you in for a hug when Mike finally let you go.

“Foods ready.” You said, moving to hug Aryia. “There’s even beer in the fridge.”

“You always spoil us.” Aryia said.

“And you must be Colby.” You said, moving to pull him into a hug.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you.” Colby said, hugging you back. “And it does smell delicious in here.”

“Same to you! And thanks. Living out here, you get spoiled with good Mexican food.” You laughed, leading the boys back to the kitchen.

“I’m from Kansas.” Colby laughed. “I don’t even know what to look for in authentic Mexican food.”

“So you ARE a country boy.” You said, grabbing Coronas for everyone while they made their plates.

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled.

“Mike, don’t put that on his plate.” You scolded him. He had put spicy serrano sauce on Colby’s food. “The last time YOU ate that, you cried and jumped in the pool.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Kevin busted out laughing. “I think I actually have that recorded on my old phone.”

You grabbed Colby’s plate and set it down on the counter, making him a new one with food you knew he’d enjoy. Colby laughed. “I need to see that video.”

“Here.” You handed him the new plate. “Nothing on there should be THAT spicy.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at you, grabbing a beer and heading to the living room where everyone else was sat eating.

After getting everyone settled in their rooms, the guys decided to go out and hit a few clubs. They spent the next two days doing pretty much the same thing. Hanging out at the house, drinking, relaxing, hitting up some clubs and bringing whoever they met back with them. On the third night they showed back up at the house at around 1 am. There were a handful of girls and a few of Mike’s local friends with them. Like usual, you were giving them their space. The boys had tried to drag you into their parties in the past, but you rarely joined them. You had another building in your back yard that you’d turned into an art space. You had all sorts of supplies. You could make jewelry. You could paint or draw. There was even a computer set up. Just your little escape.

You’d left the door and the windows open, letting the night’s breeze blow through. “Whoa” you heard from behind you.

“Hey!” you greeted Colby, turning back to work on the necklace you were making for Mike.

“This place is rad.” He said, walking around and looking at all of the obscure finished pieces and supplies. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

“I’m glad you like it.” You laughed. “Why aren’t you in there relaxing on your vacation?” you asked, tying the final knot in the necklace.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” He stumbled towards the door.

“Colby.” You called, smiling over at the tipsy boy. “You aren’t a bother. Come sit.”

He hesitated at the door for a second. “You sure?”

“You’ll learn pretty quickly that I say what I mean.” You stood to hang the newly finished necklace up on a peg and sat back down. “Give me some of that.” You pointed towards the bottle.

Colby nodded, sitting down on the bench next to you and handing you the bottle. “Whiskey?”

“It’s my favorite.” You smiled, taking a decent swig from the bottle and handing it back. “Now are you going to answer my question?”

Colby just sighed.

“Here.” You started sorting through crystal pendants in a small box. “What is your favorite color?”

“hmmm.” Colby took another drink from the bottle. “Blue. And black.”

You grabbed a grey quartz pendant and strung it on a black suede cord. “This blue or this blue?” you asked, grabbing another container of stone beads.

“This kind.” He picked a light smoky blue.

“Perfect.” You said, starting to construct him a necklace of his own. “Now talk. What’s on your mind, country boy.”

He watched you work for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m just different.” He sighed. “Mike is hands down one of the best friends I’ve made in LA, but all of them…they just.” He couldn’t find the right word.

“They cope differently than you?” you offered, looking into his soft blue eyes.

“That’s a good way of putting it.” He nodded, setting the bottle down.

You took another swig of whiskey, picking a few black beads to accent the stone ones he had chosen. “I’ve heard you’re quite the party boy yourself, though.”

“Can be.” He nodded, agreeing. “Sometimes it’s better than being alone. Sometimes it’s worse.”

“I feel that.” You agreed.

“They all came down here to hook up with girls and get blackout drunk.” Colby said, looking through a little box of things you had recently made.

“I saw you with that redhead last night. You seemed pretty interested in hooking up with girls and getting blackout drunk too.” You teased.

Colby blushed. “I uh…I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Colby, I wasn’t judging you.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “I was just teasing you.”

“She kind of invited herself to come back with us.” He said, turning to watch you work on his necklace.

“Well, we’re right next to a college town. There’s some wild kids living around here.” You held up two different beads to have him pick.

“I like those ones.” He pointed towards little black stones. “Don’t get me wrong, I do plenty of ‘socializing’” he laughed, using air quotes. “I just usually vibe with the person I’m taking to my bed. I haven’t really felt that with anyone in a while.”

“Well, I live alone for a reason.” You said. “I like people, I like company…Hell you guys are welcome here literally any time you want to come…but I feel you. I haven’t found anyone worth keeping around in a long time.”

“Mike said I’m jaded.” Colby laughed, taking another swig from the bottle.

“Mike just wants to cheer you up.” You smiled over at him. “He doesn’t like when people aren’t having as much fun as he is.”

“That’s true.” He nodded. “Your brother is a good dude. I’m glad he’s finally getting recognition with his music and stuff. He totally deserves it.”

“Well from what I hear, a big reason that is happening is you.” You said.

“Nah, it’s all him.” Colby shook his head.

“That’s not what he thinks.” You argued. “So, if you didn’t come down to the desert to party, what did you want to do down here?”

“Get the fuck out of LA.” He laughed. “A lot of amazing shit has happened for my friend Sam and I, but so many little shitty things have been just picking away at me.”

“Like?” you encouraged him to continue.

He sighed. “Everyone in LA wants to be your ‘friend’” he used the air quotes again, reaching for the bottle of Jack. “But the problem with that is you end up having more acquaintances than friends and if you let one of them in you take the risk of them completely fucking you over.”

“I could see that.” You agreed.

“Some people that I would have just sworn on anything that they’d be good people proved me wrong in the worst possible ways.” He sat, watching you work on the necklace. “Like, I had a friend…” he laughed, shaking his head and taking a swig from the bottle. “I shouldn’t use the word friend. I had someone spend two whole years telling me they appreciated me and that I was one of the only people in LA not to fuck them over…and the second they got a girlfriend they just switched. They started telling people things that I had told them in confidence. Shit that he knew I didn’t trust anyone with. His girl went and started talking shit about our whole friend group. Causing drama and treating fans poorly. And because we have a lot of the same fans, I can’t just call him out, you know? I can’t make a rant video telling people what a backstabber he is because then I look like the shitty person. I don’t even WANT to be the kind of person that throws him under the bus, I just wish he didn’t end up being a dick.” Colby sighed, letting his head fall back. “I just…I rarely get what I give. And it gets fucking old.”

“I can see why you and my brother get along so well.” You said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. “We’ve both been there. I think it’s just a little stickier for you because you have so many people watching you. If I want to tell someone to fuck off, I don’t have to worry that it’s going to be recorded or turned into a drama series on someone else’s channel.” You laughed. “And that isn’t really fair.”

“I don’t want to give up on people. It takes a lot for me to cut people out.” Colby said, leaning his head on your shoulder. “My mom keeps telling me not to entertain fools. I wish it was that simple.”

“I can already tell I’d love your mom.” You laughed. “First, that’s great advice and second, she’s raised a great son.” You messed up his hair with one of your hands. “But I agree. Nothing is ever that black and white.”

“Holy shit.” He said, lifting his head and looking down at his finished necklace. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You laughed. “Here” you slipped it over his head.

“Wait, this is mine?” he asked, turning the crystal in his hands.

“Duh.” You said, adjusting the length to fit him better. “I think it suits you.”

“Dude, how much do I owe you?” he asked, still in awe that you had just thrown it together.

“You don’t owe me anything.” You said. “Just try to get out of your head and have fun while you’re down here.”

He looked over at you with a soft expression. “Thank you.” He leaned in and gently kissed your cheek.

“No problem.” You smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

“You’re finally going to join the frat boy shenanigans happening in your house?” he gave you a smirk.

“That depends. How’s your beer pong game?” you laughed.

“I already spanked your brother and Aryia like 4 times.” He bragged, grabbing the bottle and standing up.

“Then I vote we aim for a 5th. Maybe even a 6th.” You stood, turning off the studio lights and heading inside.

“Y/N!” Aryia cheered, stumbling into Mike.

“You guys really aimed for ‘white girl wasted’ this trip, didn’t you?” you laughed, reaching for a Corona and sitting on the counter next to Aryia.

Mike walked up to Colby. “I wondered where you disappeared to.” He said, playing with the necklace that hung against Colby’s chest.

Colby blushed. “Is that a problem?” he shyly asked.

Mike shook his head. “I’m keeping an eye on you, though.” He laughed, walking back over to Kevin and a group of girls.

Aryia was telling you some wild story about a girl that tried to get naked in their Uber earlier when you turned and saw a girl hanging all over Colby. When she went to touch his necklace, he snatched it into his hand first. “I’ll be back.” He said to her, hurrying away and walking towards you and Aryia.

“You looked scared of that tiny drunk college girl.” You laughed, watching him take another swig of Jack and hop up on the counter next to you.

“She said she always wanted to sleep with a youtuber and then asked to wear this.” He adjusted the pendant to lay back against his chest.

“Oooo, big party fail. She’s probably too drunk to realize how trashy that sounded.” You laughed.

“Nope.” Aryia laughed. “She said the same thing to Kevin earlier and she was completely sober.”

The three of you started laughing, beer dribbling out your nose as you had just taken a drink. You started fanning your face, laughing even harder. “Paper towel!” you yelled.

Colby reached behind him grabbing the roll. “Here.” He laughed, ripping a few paper towels off and handing them to you.

“Thanks.” You tried to clean the beer out of your nose and off of your face.

“Mike!” Colby yelled. “Wanna see if your sister and I can beat you and Aryia at beer pong?” he asked, lifting his hands to challenge them.

“No fair! She hasn’t been drinking!” Mike whined.

“She’s had about half of this.” He said, raising the bottle of Jack.

“Wooooow, you trying to get my sister drunk?” Mike teased him, shooting him a fake glare.

You grabbed it out of Colby’s hand and took another swig. “You afraid, baby brother?” you asked, hopping off the counter and handing the bottle back to him.

“You kick my ass every time.” Mike laughed, moving to set up another game of beer pong.

Watching Colby relax and laugh while you absolutely destroyed the other two boys in beer pong made you happy you decided to join the party. “That’s three games in a row.” You teased them, turning to high-five Colby.

He threw his arm around your shoulders, giving Mike and Aryia a smug look. “You guys want to go another round?”

One of the girls that had been watching rolled their eyes. “You should let someone else play.”

“Grab a partner.” You said. “I bet you guys will beat them too.”

“I want to be on Colby’s team!” she quickly replied, trying to squeeze between you two.

“Nah, I’ve already got my partner.” He said, pulling you back from the table with him.

She rolled her eyes again. “I don’t know why you’re hanging all over THAT bitch.” She said under her breath.

“What?” Colby asked, knowing exactly what she had said.

“Colby!” Mike called, shaking his head no. Mike knew you could handle yourself.

“But she just…” he started, stopping when he felt you step away from him.

“Sweetie, listen here.” You said, staring the girl in the eyes with a smile on your face. “First, women being shitty to other women because they’re jealous of them is ugly. It’s not a good look. And honestly, it just lets the skeezy men that find it attractive off easy because they get to pick which disparate girl they want so they can hit it and quit it. You deserve better than the attention you’re attracting.” The girl’s face had gone ghost white. “SECOND, this is my fucking house. Everyone gets two chances. You just lost one. I suggest you grab a beer, find a friend, and have a good time because if your intentions were anything other than having a good time, I can order you an Uber.”

She had dropped her head and was staring at her feet. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“Thank you.” You replied. “Now would you like to help me kick my brother’s ass in beer pong?”

Her eyes shot up to yours. “Really?” she asked with a skeptical look on her face. “You aren’t mad?”

“Oh, honey. You really are new around here.” You laughed, handing her a ping pong ball.

When you had spanked Mike and Aryia in beer pong for the 4th time, you left the girl and Kevin to play the next round. You walked back into the kitchen to grab a cold Corona from the fridge. “That was impressive” you heard behind you.

Colby had hopped back up on the counter, bottle of Jack still in his hand. “Making that sorority girl nearly piss herself or single handedly winning that round of beer pong?” you laughed.

“Well, both.” He chuckled, dropping down to stand in front of you. “But mostly the part where you turned that girl’s night around.” He pointed over at her. She was laughing, trying to chug the cup of beer Mike had just landed a ping pong ball in. Kevin was cheering her on. “She’s been a bitch all night and now look at her.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the beer you had just opened. “I have my ways.”

“I saw that.” He moved a bit closer to you. “I really want to kiss you.” He said, smiling down at you.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He stood there, refusing to make the first move.

“Well, you’ve got some choices to make, Kansas. Some things to consider.” You put on a pondering expression. “I live about 5 hours away from you, I’m quite a bit older than you, I’m stubborn, and my brother is currently staring at us.”

Colby tilted his head back and forth like he was considering everything you had said. “Yeah, it’s worth it.” He said, catching you off guard by smashing his lips against yours.

“Cooooooolllllbyyyyyyyyyyyy” Mike growled, trying to squeeze through the crowd that was watching them play beer pong.

“I’d run.” You laughed, pushing him away from you.

“SHIT!” He yelled, running around the kitchen island trying to dodge Mike.

“I told you I’d be watching you.” Mike said, not actually angry. This was more the ‘I’m a protective brother and I’ll beat anyone’s ass who messes with my sister’ formality.

“I know. And I’m probably going to get my ass kicked.” Colby squealed, running into the dining room when Mike lunged over the island. “But it was worth it.”

They were stood on either side of the table. “You sure about that?” Mike asked, moving to run around the table.

“YES!” Colby yelled, running out the back door of the house and around the pool, kicking his shoes off and chucking his phone in the grass knowing he’d eventually end up in the water.

You were laughing your ass off the whole time, Aryia and Kevin following them with you. “Why is Mike chasing Colby?” Aryia asked, not having witnessed it like Mike and Kevin.

“Colby kissed me.” You laughed, watching Mike tackle Colby into the pool.

“WHAT?!” Aryia practically shrieked.

“Mike said you two would hit it off.” Kevin laughed, taking another drink of whatever was in his cup.

“Really?” you gave him a weird look.

“Yup. He told me that before he even invited Colby.” He nodded at you.

“Don’t drown the boy!” you called out, seeing Mike pull Colby back under the water.

“Save me!” Colby laughed, reaching out for you.

Aryia took this opportunity to push you into the pool with the two boys. “Oh, you’re dead when I get out.” You threatened when you surfaced. “Mike!” you yelled, laughing.

Colby swam to hide behind you, his arms circling your waist. Mike was looking back and forth, staring at the both of you. “I don’t know if I like this.”

“Mike.” You laughed, swimming to hug your brother. “There’s not even a ‘this’ not to like.”

“He kissed you!” Mike chuckled.

“And? You’ve banged like 6 girls in my spare bedroom this year alone.” You laughed, kissing his cheek and swimming back to Colby.

“I’ll still kick your ass if you do anything stupid.” Mike pointed at Colby.

“Dude, your sister is way scarier than you are.” He laughed.

“Hey!” you smacked him.

“You may have chosen to be nice to that girl earlier, but you looked like you could have destroyed her.” He laughed, pulling you against him.

“My jeans are making it hard to swim.” You laughed, reaching for the edge of the pool to pull yourself out.

“Don’t leave me!” Colby pulled you back to him. “Oh, shit! I got this wet!” he said, pulling his necklace off.

“It’s fine.” You laughed, grabbing it from him. “It won’t ruin it. Kevin!” you called, handing the necklace to him when he walked to the pool’s edge. “Can you sit this on the table in there.” You pointed towards your art studio. You realized quite a few people had joined you in the pool. “I should go change into my suit.”

“Nah.” Colby smirked, his hands moving to unbutton your jeans.

“Wow, what happened to your country manners.” You laughed, batting his hands away and slipping your sopping wet jeans off.

“Jack Daniels happened.” He laughed, pulling his own shirt off and throwing it on the ground outside the pool.

“I’ll have to thank Mr. Daniels one of these days.” You quipped, pulling your own shirt off to join Colby’s.

Colby pulled you into a much softer kiss than your first one. “Do you come up to LA much?” he asked, as your hands were unbuttoning his own jeans.

“On occasion.” You smiled against his lips. “You’re gonna sink if you don’t ditch the denim.”

“I’m sure.” Colby said sarcastically. “That’s totally why I should take my pants off. It doesn’t have anything to do with you wanting to get me naked. Not at all.”

“What if it does?” you asked with a straight face, seeing Colby glance over at Mike while he stripped out of his black skinny jeans.

“I’d ask you if there was a lock on your bedroom door because I’m pretty sure Mike is going to try to suffocate me in my sleep.” Colby answered, looking back at you with wide eyes.

“He won’t.” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And yes, there’s a lock on my door.”

“Mike said he’s coming back down here for a family thing in like a month.” Colby said, trying not to look directly into your eyes.

“You should definitely tag along.” You said, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, a bit breathless.

“definitely.” You smiled into the kiss.

When the boys were all packed up and getting ready to head back to California, you made sure to pack them a bag of snacks and force a few water bottles into their hands. “Drive safe, please?” you asked, Mike picking you up and spinning you around in another hug.

“We always do.” He answered, kissing your forehead. He looked over at the group of boys standing by the SUV. “You know, I really hope that works out.”

“What works out?” you asked.

“You and Colby.” He smiled. “I had a hunch you two would be good together.”

“Well, thank you for introducing us, then.” You laughed. “And yeah. I hope it works out too.”

“COLBY!” Mike called. “Don’t leave a girl hangin’.”

You shoved him, waiting for Colby to come say bye. “Don’t look so sad, Kansas.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“But I am sad.” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“You can visit anytime you want.” You said, kissing him. “And I’ll come visit you guys before your next trip down, so it’s only going to be like two weeks before I see you again.”

“Really?!” he said, pulling you into a slightly rougher kiss. “Thank God.”

“Aww, it’s like you’re gonna miss me or something.” You teased, grabbing his hand and walking with him towards the other boys. “Between this one thinking my boring ass is cute” you said lifting your joined hands, “and Aryia barely coming up for air with that Charlotte girl all week…I think you guys are going to have to come down here a bit more often.”

“I agree.” Mike said, tossing the keys in the air and catching them. “Alright. We’ve have to head out.” He said, walking towards the driver side door.

“It’s always good to see you.” Kevin pulled you into a hug.

“You too.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Charlotte lives in a dorm, so I may be crashing on your couch a lot.” Aryia laughed, pulling you into a hug.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, dork. There’s like 4 bedrooms you can claim.” You laughed, kissing his cheek as well.

“I’ll call you when we get there safe. Mike said he always forgets to.” Colby said, leaning down to kiss you one last time.

“Thanks.” You smiled up at him, fiddling with the necklace that was back around his neck. “I’ll see you soon, Kansas.” You said, turning to walk towards your front door.

PART 2

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock oneshot #colby brock fluff

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quicktelling-blog · 5 years

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Amira’s Vanished Hustle, Perceptions of Missed Opportunities, and What Everyone Should Consider About the Story So Far

[deep dive under the cut]

Some messages I got over the weekend were along the lines of: “No Damira again on Friday whew you must be heartbroken huh?” But, y’all, I wasn’t surprised. And to be completely honest, my reaction on Friday was very different from the ones I saw in the tag. Yeah, I was super happy for the adorable Amira and I was also side-eying the glaring absence of Carlos’s besties at his own housewarming -- but my main thought after the clip was: “LOL OH SHIT HERE WE GO.” Because in my mind Friday was an ENORMOUS RED FLAG that the only substantial thing left to do in Amira’s story arc is the cute Bon Voyage party to send her off on her dream trip. Even before this big POV shift happened, Druck hadn’t given us any reason to expect much more than that in her remaining plot, and I’ll elaborate on that here.

I don’t wanna jump to the conclusion that Druck can’t possibly stick the landing, because hey, they might! We have no clear idea what will happen between now and the final goodbye party, so maybe good things are coming that will subvert all of our worst imaginings! But I feel like this is a hinge point in the season to do a little reassessing of expectations... and to come clean about one big reason why I’ve mostly spoken superficially about this season up until now.

The very first red flag, for me, was when I realized Druck was planning to basically pretend Amira never had a job. That oversight might not seem like a big deal to most, and it’s not like her job was the first thing Druck ever made disappear unceremoniously (remember when Leonie and Sara had other close girl friends? lol) but to me it was a signal that my expectations for Amira’s story (based on her previous strong characterization) had maybe been too high. And I immediately felt a bit cheated.

Amira was already so fleshed out coming into her season. She was demanding, quick-witted, and nurturing. She was fiercely protective of her friends, and even more fiercely ambitious, with a willingness to work harder than anyone to get ahead in life. She was sunny but tough-shelled, with a well-established resistance to trusting any men. And, loving her as much as I do, I felt strongly that she deserved to have plenty of brand new story elements that reflected all those things. To have her own story shaped around her, rather than she herself being reshaped to fit Sana’s story.

But then it was finally her turn to shine, in a Summer season, when it would make perfect sense for her to be on a job grind to earn cash for her trip, and... she’s not working? Huh? She managed to work all through a tough school year, but not her free summer vacation? Why? Because of Druck’s low budget? Because they lacked cohesion in the writing process? Some combination of the two? Yikes. Who knows. But suddenly, nonsensically, they had flushed away the perfect framing to showcase her work ethic, her daily perseverance, and her varied interactions (good and bad) with lots of strange customers around Berlin.

It felt like a bad omen to me somehow. Which wasn’t a great mindset to start the season with. And that was the beginning of me trying very, very hard not to be confused and salty about every little thing I began to perceive as missed opportunities to give Amira a new kind of substance in her story.

For example: While David, Matteo, and Sam began having fun off-screen, working on an bold alien movie, Amira inexplicably had no involvement. She kinda scoffed at the idea when it came up on-screen, then immediately lost interest in the conversation because her man was texting. Fair enough, right? That scene was moving her story forward while generously giving a little shoutout to the meta insta storyline, right? The problem is: the off-screen story ended up seeming much more interesting than watching Amira chilling on her own texting a bunch, and we weren’t even given a reason for her to not be part of it after the whole crew was invited to join in. Imagine if we had followed her onto a shitty little makeshift movie set and seen her reacting to the chaos and strangeness of it. Imagine her finding a resourceful solution to a production hiccup or mediating a creative disagreement while trying to hide her own inner turmoil from her friends. And imagine her having an extremely important conversation with David (and/or Matteo and/or Sam) about the film’s deeper themes of alienation and otherness that they can both sadly relate to.

That’s just one weirdly specific scenario, but there are sooo many other ways I fantasized about Amira bonding with her friends (particularly the ones who aren’t cishet white kids or brand new characters). Talking with one or more of them about what it means to be dangerously marginalized, or to be afraid of letting someone get close to you, or to feel torn in two different directions in life. Maybe something like that could still happen before the season ends, but I’m not counting on it. And I think the time has passed for it to have the biggest impact. It could’ve been amazing (and really narratively useful!) if it happened before the resolution of Amira’s brief conflicts with Kiki, Erva, and Mohammed. We saw a lot of scenes with her looking angry and sad, but we weren’t really privy to much of her thought process during all that reflection, so it felt uncomfortably unearned when problems she once saw as insurmountable were shortly waved aside. I would’ve really appreciated even a short conversation with some good change-of-heart exposition.

And while other people were cheering about all the controversial Sana season conflicts being blessedly truncated or completely stripped away, the whole time I couldn’t stop thinking: “Okay, awesome, but what are they gonna replace that storyline with? Nothing?” And, for the most part, that seemed to be true.

But the problem clearly wasn’t limited to a shortage of well-integrated story threads with Amira at their center. It was arguably also a failure to capitalize on the stories they did use. Instead of getting to watch the emotional fight with her mother about punching someone, and witnessing Amira faced with the threat of losing Australia, we only heard about the drama afterward. Just like we only heard about her family’s religious holiday together. Just like we only got a few texts between Amira and Jonas about the refugee event. And just like how, as I sat typing this, Amira’s mother re-blessed the trip off-screen. On and on goes the list of examples of this unfortunate tell-don’t-show approach, and I’m sure a lot of it can be attributed to low budget and tricky cast scheduling, but the time limit excuse probably doesn’t apply if Amira’s main plot really has been efficiently pared down to 7 episodes.

Don’t get me wrong, I want to reserve final judgment on the season until the credits roll, and there are plenty of good things to say about it in the meantime. Yes, it’s been lovely to see so many gorgeous shots of Tua praying, and boxing, and expressing everything from attraction to anguish to helpless rage. Yes, she and Hassan both did some really strong work selling the magnetic pull between their characters, even in the face of (what I consider to be) an underdeveloped narrative that didn’t totally sell me on the relationship overall. Yes, it was wonderful to have some aesthetically pleasing scenes of the girl squad loving and supporting each other, even if they mostly talked about boys the way Amira hoped they wouldn’t. And obviously just having a story about a strong, kind, devoted hijabi girl is vitally important visibility. So I really haven’t wanted to say anything negative in the face of all that...

... but now I have to say: if you’re feeling cheated and mad about the POV shift, then take some time to consider what else specifically you think should’ve happened to Amira before we entered this resolution phase of her story. It seemed like most people were perfectly happy for her to not face any complex conflict, and not have any lingering hardship to dramatically and triumphantly overcome. Every obstacle getting a relatively swift and easy solution felt underbaked to me, but it was a big relief and source of praise for most people in the tags right up until Amira disappeared from clips. So: in hindsight, how would you have added not just length, but also more compelling drama and greater social impact to her story, so that the extra length felt well-used? It’s really worth thinking and talking about that, even if you’re hesitant to voice any criticism of Amira’s part of the story (even after the season ends, and even if it’s totally constructive) -- because thinking and talking about it is how we’ll get that kind of richer, fuller story in the future.

#druck #amira thalia mahmood #representation #storytelling #amira baby i love you and you deserve the world okay #that's been at the core of my issues all season

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janiedean · 4 years

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Haha yeah let's make fun of Americans for their shitty education system that's failing them, we're so European and enlightened! Next we can make fun of their school shootings and all the people that die because if the bad healthcare system. They totally deserve it!

…. anon for fuck’s sake I’m the first person on the face of this planet to not make fun of americans for their shitty education system which y’all know because I talk about it all the fucking time and I spent the last year reading nonfiction books about exactly the issue because oh guess what I’m interested in the topic and I would never make fun of school shootings or their healthcare except when pointing out that no first world country shouldn’t have public healthcare, but y’know what?

ALL THESE PSEUDO-ACTIVISTS ON TUMBLR DON’T GET TO PLAY THIS CARD.

because, my dearest darling anon who assumes I don’t know shit about how the us of a works when it’s 90% of what I’ve been reading about since I was twelve, the shitty education system in the US of A mostly affects… hmmm… poor people, and waaaiiitttt, what are the teen poorest states in the US?

Mississippi

New Mexico

Alabama

Louisiana

West Virginia

Kentucky

South Carolina

Arkansas

Georgia

North Carolina

now, nvm that I just read a book on cotton pickers in alabama this summer that gave me nightmares to the umpteenth degree which if was at all read by tumblr would cut off the white people/incest jokes by a good half, let’s check a moment. for whom did those states vote during the last elections?

Mississippi > trump

New Mexico > clinton

Alabama > trump

Louisiana > trump

West Virginia > trump

Kentucky > trump

South Carolina > trump

Arkansas > trump

Georgia > trump

North Carolina > trump

hmmm. waaait. what do y’all say on tumblr about people who vote trump and states where trump won? that it’s all racists who should die and if they lose their jobs fuck them because they should have known better to vote for trump? hmmmmm. oh, yeah, the US school system is so great that this is the literacy level:

aaah, 14% plus 4% of non literate people means that 18% of the population pretty much can’t read functionally, and hmmmm how much is 18% of the US population? 327,2 million. how much is 18% of 327,2 million?

58.8.

hmmmmm… where do most of those almost sixty million illiterate people live according to you? I’ll spoil you: most likely in poor areas. hmm, what jobs did most of these people do in the 70s/80s? I’ll tell you because I read on the topic, they worked manual jobs in factories ie steel mills and similar places… which ah, wait, all closed because either economic crisis or whatnot, and no one thought that a lot of those people didn’t have other marketable skills. and aaah wait what did trump say? let’s make america great lIKE IT WAS, FUCK THE PARIS AGREEMENTS, LET’S GO BACK TO COAL -

ah.

yeah.

I absolutely can’t understand why would any of those people vote for trump, huh?

now: guess what, I absolutely understand why they would, and mvho is that if the US left would concentrate on, hm, reforming the public school system so literacy rates go up and people don’t fall for trump, it would solve 99% of their problems, buuut what do I see on tumblr? all people saying that whoever voted for trump is a neonazi and should die.

and now we get to the point: MY PAL, YOU CAN’T BE AN ACTIVIST OR CALL YOURSELF AN ACTIVIST AND NOT LISTEN TO OTHERS AND KEEP ON STEWING IN YOUR FUCKING IGNORANCE. I don’t laugh about the poor people failed by the public US educational system - my problem is kids on tumblr who all go to college or some private school paid by their parents who also pay for their internet and most likely their computers and who SAY THEY’RE ACTIVISTS who not only don’t know fucking shit about the issues in their own country, but presume and have the arrogance to push US social categories on OTHER COUNTRIES while not even knowing how the fuck their own social categories work because if y’all entitled people on tumblr had a fucking clue of why people make incest jokes about alabama you wouldn’t be laughing at them and you would stop not including classism in your precious social analysis of your country’s issues which almost never includes categories y’all wanna laugh at. AND YOU CAN’T BE AN ACTIVIST NOT CARING FOR THE RIGHTS OF PEOPLE THAT DON’T VOTE WHERE YOU VOTE, INCLUDING THE POOR WHITE PEOPLE WHO VOTE DONALD TRUMP.

and on top of not even knowing how your fucking country works and only wanting to fight for the rights of people who think like you - because if you look at the notes on the post for the fundraiser in favors of the miners of harlan county kentucky from this summer it’s full of people saying they deserve to die because kentucky is a red state, and btw as I just got some birthday money I gave them some fifteen bucks too but hey, keep on telling me I make fun of poor americans anon -, you show up on posts where people discuss their issues in their countries according to their societal standards and you presume to know better than us how our countries work and sorry but my pal, I say that the school system failed SO-CALLED COLLEGE STUDENTS WHO, GOING TO COLLEGE IE FUCKING HIGHER EDUCATION, SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ASSUMING THE ENTIRE WORLD REVOLVES ALONG THE US SOCIETAL CONSTRUCT.

now: I 100% have a lot more sympathy for poor americans who can’t afford going to the doctor and most likely die in shootings and whose teacher didn’t bother with them in obligatory school because they decided they weren’t smart enough than for fucking entitled college kids on tumblr who declare themselves activists and then proceed to read the entirety of world history through american lens and prove the stereotypes about US americans way more right than any person actually affected by crappy public schooling might.

if you go into fucking debt to go to college - which btw I consider a total travesty and y’all should just fucking vote sanders and get on par with most places where you don’t have to join the army to get a chance at an education - I would assume that college gives you an education good enough to give you enough reading comprehension to understand whatever the hell I say in posts that I used to make extra-long and extra-detailed so that people who don’t have the context might get it.

since y’all obviously don’t have it, then your overpriced, crappy sub-par higher education failed the shit out of you. and it’s high time someone informed you of that.

now please go troll someone else and possibly go find dale maharidge’s books including the ones out of print that I went to hunt down on abebooks because they’ll enlighten you re all the things you, as hopefully an activist, should do to avoid trump 2020. now I’ll go back writing my novel in which I’m taking care to point out that y’all’s calvinist society is a damned dystopia and I sure as hell hope you think before messaging people this stuff next because I’m really fucking tired of y’all purposefully misreading everything I say.

sayonara.

#now y'all really missed me off #quanto mi piaci mai semplicità #va bene va bene va bene in verità #us centrism for ts #good god i don't presume to know everything that's wrong with y'all #but sure as hell I know enough to see your approach to activism sucks #Anonymous #ask post

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 5 years

Text

10,000 Follower Special: The League’s Path to Victory! The Time Plan?

In this thrilling installment of the League of Villains tale, Ganondorf and his team of dastardly devils make their big move, playing their cards big! Ganondorf’s ultimate plan is revealed, and the Super Smash Bros must race to both stop it, and save their friends!

Bioshock Universe: The Floating City of Columbia

For Booker DeWitt, life had taken a nosedive down the rabbit hole and just kept going and going all the way to looney-ville. As if a fascist/fundamentalist floating city in the sky wasn’t enough, a teenage girl with time-hopping powers whom he had begrudgingly come to care for topped tings off. Add in weird magical powers from drinking magical coca-cola and apparently machine-men and... yeah he was pretty sure that life would never make sense again.

How he had ended up on this quest to save the world from a psychotic religious zealot he’d never know. But by whatever God there might be he was going to kill him as painfully as possible.

And now, here they were. At the precipice of destiny, ready to end the son of a whore once and for all.

“Stand back.” Booker growled to Elizabeth, mentally deciding if he should split Comstock’s skull with his knew zipline claw, or just blast his head off.

He was leaning towards the skull splitting.

Elizabeth shot him a look. “Booker, no.” she said firmly. “This is between me and him.”

Booker shook his head. “You are WALKING into a TRAP.” growled the former soldier.

“I NEED to do this.” she said, the stubborn jut in her jaw announcing an end to the argument. The look was strangely familiar to Booker, but he mentally chalked it up to the girl being more stubborn than any human had any right to be.

The door swung open, Comstock awaited, in all his self-righteous glory.

The room was beautiful, illuminated by a stained-glass window with a small basin in the center, presumably for baptism.

Comstock smiled, looking for all the world like a loving grandfather. “Come here child.” he spoke with a smile as they approached. “Well come on! I don’t bite.” he said with a laugh.

‘He’s jolly for a man who’s been consistently getting his army killed. Is he just that arrogant?’ thought Booker to himself, not releasing his grip on his gun.

“My, oh, my how you’ve grown.” said Comstock gently as Elizabeth approached.

“...Tell me.” said Elizabeth. “What- what am I?” she asked.

Comstock extended a hand and Elizabeth allowed him to take it. “Look at you child, you’re a mess.” he said, removing the sponge from the full basin.

Feeling a surge of protectiveness and anger Booker ground out “Hey! Let go of her.”

Comstock ignored him. “Elizabeth, everything I’ve done is to keep you safe.” he said as he washed her hand.

“Safe from what?!” snapped Elizabeth.

Comstock sighed. “”The Seed of the Prophet shall sit upon the Throne and drown in flame, the Mountains of Man.”” quoted the self-ordained prophet. The his eyes turned grim. “But the Archangel revealed something else: “Beware, Prophet. Beware the False Shepard, Booker DeWitt, for he shall be as a Wall between her and Destiny.”

“Why?” asked Elizabeth, practically begging for an answer. But Comstock no longer had eyes for her, he was glaring at Booker and Booker was matching it.

“Booker, I’ve been a fool.” he declared. “I’ve sent mighty armies to stop you! I’ve rained FIRE FROM ABOVE!” he cried, slowly walking around the basin. “I did all of that, to keep you from her, when all I had to do was tell her the truth!” snarled Comstock.

“That is the thing about lies, isn’t it.” drawled a smooth voice from behind them. “They have a short self-life. They go bad, and quickly.”

Booker spun around and his already weird day took another dive down the rabbit-hole.

The silver haired man in all black was the strangest man Booker had ever beheld. And not just his outlandish clothes and ridiculously long hair. He also held a weapon, a Japanese-style sword as long as a man was tall.

Booker leveled his shotgun at the man. “Who are you?” he growled out. “And how did you-” he began, but was shoved aside by Comstock who fell to his knees before the man.

“The Archangel!” he cried. “The Angel who came to me! The Archangel: Sephiroth!” cried Comstock, tears in his eyes. “You’ve returned.”

Booker felt like his hear had dropped into his stomach. There was no way. An Archangel? Really? It was impossible!

But... with all that had happened...

“You?!” cried Elizabeth incredulously. “You’re an Archangel?”

The now named Sephiroth chuckled. “I’m an Angel... after a fashion.” he said, before turning his attention back to Comstock. “You’ve done your duty well Prophet. The time has come. You shall be rewarded.”

Booker began to unconsciously backing up to stand with Elizabeth, putting the basin between himself and the ‘Archangel’.

“Yes, mighty one.” said Comstock. “I’ve... I’ve worked so long. I’m ready.” he said.

“Yes.” said Sephiroth, placing his palm upon Comstock’s forehead. “Your reward.”

“A quick death.”

There was a blinding flash of light, a blaze of unholy heat, and Booker instinctively grabbed Elizabeth and tackled her down, using the basin as a shield between them and the explosion.

Slowly, after the heat had dissipated, Booker and Elizabeth stood, looking towards Comstock and the Angel. Elizabeth screamed and buried her face into Booker’s chest. Booker could only stare dumbly.

Where Zachary Comstock had been, was a charred and black skeleton, bits of flesh still clinging to it, ablaze. The ground beneath it was blasted to high, holy hell, leaving Sephiroth staring dispassionately.

“Well, that’s done.” drawled the Archangel, for what else could he be but an angel, “Now,” he said, pointing his massive weapon at Booker. “Give me the girl, and this will go smoothly.”

Booker didn’t think. He didn’t wait. He grabbed his shotgun and blasted at the Angel, or Demon, or whatever it was.

Sephiroth deflected the bullet with the flat of his blade. Sighing, Sephiroth spoke. “Very well. We’ll do this his way.” And with that, Sephiroth snapped his fingers.

The stained glass window behind them exploded, and a monster entered the room.

It was huge. A twisted dragon-like purple monster even bigger than Songbird. The creature landed, crushing the basin beneath it. Booker raised his shotgun to shoot the monster, but it knocked him aside with a single back-hand.

“Booker!” cried Elizabeth.

Booker slammed into the wall, his vision becoming blurry as pain dominated his body. He was vaguely aware of the monster grabbing Elizabeth and taking off in flight. The Archangel followed, a single black wing flowing behind him.

As unconsciousness claimed Booker, he was aware of a massive mechanical monstrosity stomping towards him.

Columbia was burning.

Rebel and loyalist alike found themselves crushed under the furious attack of nightmare creatures. Mechanical nightmares, twisted mutated creatures that had once been human, and demons straight from Hell itself swarmed the streets as they slaughtered the all within the city.

Elizabeth saw all of this from the clutches of the flying demon as it flew beside Sephiroth.

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop! Those people are innocent! Just STOP!” she cried.

The demon laughed. “There are no innocents girlie. By morning, this place will be a smoldering ruin, sinking into the ocean.” it said in a mocking tone.

“Now, now, Ridley, no need to mock.” said Sephiroth to the now named Ridley. “Besides, we have a job to do.”

And that’s when Elizabeth saw their destination. The Angel Statue, her prison. All about the structure smaller ships flew, attaching strange machines to it, readying it for... something.

Sephiroth spoke. “You see my dear, we needed your father for this task. To build us the Angel. To construct us this colossus for our own use.” his eyes flicked to her. “And to rear you. Our precious Lamb.”

Elizabeth glared at the so-called Archangel, tears in her eyes. “Why!? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?”

Sephiroth chuckled as they landed atop the Angel’s head. “Why, for exactly the reason we said. To rain fire down upon the mountains of man.”

There was a blinding flash of blue energy, and they and the Angel were gone.

Arcadia Bay, Life is Strange Universe

“This is my storm, Chloe.” said Max Caulfield quietly as she and her friend- no, they’d been through too much for Chloe to be a mere friend anymore- stood by the lighthouse, staring at the veritable hurricane bearing down on Arcadia Bay. After all, it had to be her storm. What else could it be? All that screwing around with time, it had all led to this.

The world was a cruel place. To bring her and Chloe back together like this, only to have this happen. She felt rage in her heart at the raw unfairness of this whole shitty deal. Both hers and Chloe’s. First Rachel, then that monster Jefferson, now this?! It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

“Max-” began Chloe, but she was interrupted.

“Oh my sweet summer child or some shit. You ain’t seen a storm yet.” sneered a voice that reminded her eerily of Nathan Prescott at his worst, and yet infinitely more malevolent.

Chloe and Max spun around, seeing the new arrival. He was about their age, maybe a little older, with ashen gray skin, blood red eyes, and bone-white hair. He was dressed like he was going to a Renaissance Fair, complete with a sword in his hand and a shield on his back. Except the sword looked very, very real.

“What’re you talking about dipshit!” snapped Chloe, moving protectively between Max and the stranger. “And who the fuck do you think you are!?”

The stranger cackled, somehow over the wind. “Me? I’m a shadow. A reflection. The punchline to the bad joke you call existence.” he cackled. “And I’m the guy who’s here for your little girlfriend bitch.”

Chloe snarled and put her fists up. “Try it fuckwit.” she growled. Max felt her heart swell for Chloe, her brave punk warrior.

The dark stranger cackled. “Oh sweetie. It’s not me you have to worry about... it’s him.”

Thud.

Chloe and Max turned their heads, seeing their new adversary.

A towering mountain of metal armor and what seemed to be raw malice was marching towards them, a massive flesh-covered sword in one hand and a demonic looking claw flexing in the other.

Max was not afraid to admit that she voided her bowels in that moment,

:What the fu-” began Chloe, but the creature lashed out, seizing her in it’s clawed hand. Chloe screamed in pain, Max screamed in horror, and the monstrous knight roared as he pitched Chloe off the cliff.

“NOOO!” screamed Max, instinctively reaching out with her powers, but there was a sharp pain to the back of her head, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

Dark Link spat as Nightmare picked up the girl. “Well, that was easy. Hope Seph got his as easy.”

“Sephiroth was chosen by the Master. The Master does not fail.” proclaimed Nightmare.

Dark Link rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go big guy. We got a schedule to keep.”

Nightmare nodded and Soul Edge pulsed with power. A massive red portal opened for them and they stepped through.

Neither noticed the winged mechanical monstrosity grab Chloe Price before she hit the sharp rocks below.

Songbird, the mechanical guardian of Elizabeth Comstock landed on the beach of Arcadia Bay, Booker DeWitt and Chloe Price in it’s arms. Before the mechanical beast were three people. A grown man and woman sharply dressed in khaki’s, and a small child in a blue and purple striped sweater.

The woman placed a hand on both Booker and Chloe’s limp form. “Excelsior. Both perfectly fine. Well done.” remarked Rosalind Lutece to Songbird. she turned to her brother, Robert. “You see? I told you it would work.”

“I never said it would not work. I merely predicted a 97.836% chance that the plan would fail.” he said. He glanced from his sister to the child. “You did well to come to us Frisk.”

*Frisk tells the Lutece’s that they’re happy the plan worked*

“Well there’s still plenty of room for failure. Don’t you worry about that.” said Rosalind dryly.

Robert picked up Frisk and placed them upon Songbird’s back. “Now, to the Smash Mansion, all of you. Tell the Smash Brothers that there is more at stake than they realize. Worry not, we will abate the storm.” he assured Frisk.

*Frisk thanks the Lutece’s again for their help.*

“Well given that we exist within time itself, we had better help you.” said Rosalind. “Now off!”

Frisk nodded and patted Songbird. The mechanical beast flew off, disappearing through one of Frisk’s shortcuts, learned from Sans of course.

“Do you think they will win?” asked Rosalind lightly.

Robert shrugged. “For once... I cannot see. And I rather like the not knowing. That’s more fun than I remember.”

“Indeed.” remarked Rosalind. “Now, the storm? Shall we?” she asked.

“Indubitably.” remarked Robert.

The Twins of Time began to glow with power.

Arbiter’s Grounds, Legend of Zelda Universe

Ganondorf stood before the mostly reconstructed Mirror of Twilight, painstakingly reassembled through massive effort after Midna had shattered it. Ganondorf stood upon the scaffolding, built around the massive Angel of Columbia, placed here by Sephiroth and Ridley after their mission. The Mirror now sat with the chest of the Angle, nestled between it’s collarbones.

“So that’s it?” asked Chara. “The Gateway?”

Ganondorf nodded. “Aye. The Mirror was a gateway between this world and the Twili Realm. But now, with the Angel to serve as a conductor and amplifier, it shall open the doorways between all worlds.”

Chara nodded, an evil smile spreading across their face. “And with the Time Power of those two brats within it...”

Ganondorf nodded. “All of Time and Space will be ours for the taking. And you, Chara, with your own Temporal abilities, shall be the one to open the way.” he said, lovingly ruffling the demon child’s hair.

“I’m ready father.” said Chara proudly.

Ganondorf laughed. “Of course you are.” he said proudly. “And soon the Angel will be as well.” Ganondorf laughed as he turned from the mirror to face the rising sun. “Rejoce, my child, for Convergence is upon us. And our final victory.”

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hjertetssunnegalskap1 · 5 years

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The Skamdom, the good parts and bad parts and what to do with it

I love Skam. The Skam fandom has been and still is, joy in so many ways. It’s amazing to meet other fans who love the show and love everything connected to it. The Skamdom has been more than a weird obsession, it has given me a feeling of family and friendship, too. I have learned a lot about myself and my own prejudices and about my identity and preferences. Skam has been an inspiration to create fanwork, I have gotten lots of positive feedback and it has helped me to have fun with creating stuff again.

However, I have discovered that there are some parts of the fandom that are quite toxic. Yeah, I know, water is wet, hah. I guess it’s well known that there are negative sides to all fandoms. I’m pretty new to fandom life, though, and I suppose it has taken time to get fully aware of how bad things can get. Skam has a positive underlying message, after all, and I have often thought that it “should be too good for hate like this.” Well, it isn’t. We all know it. It’s even possible that parts of Skam somehow ignite certain forms of toxic fandom processes, too, although I have no idea what that could be. Could it be that the show feels so real? That the characters are so young? That the show handles important issues? I really don’t know, but I would love to hear all the theories.

Anyway, I have noticed that even though people spreading hate usually are a small fraction of the fandom, they have the power to do significant damage. Hate drives people out of ships, and out of the fandom. Hate makes fanfic writers stop writing and artists stop making art. Fans are being frozen out or silenced because they have the wrong opinion.This is sad, and the worst part is, that it has happened more than once.

What makes a fandom toxic, then? Why does it happen in the first place? And what can we do about it? I have tried to read up on some ideas about it and mixed it with some of my own thoughts about group processes. I won’t pretend to know anything about fandom life previous to Skam or on earlier fandom sites, but I would like to say something about the things I do know of. The reason I write this is purely selfish, by the way. I need to understand this. The Skam fandom is constantly evolving (as it probably should) and I need to keep my own fandom experience good, and to do that, I need to get what this negativity is all about, and how to deal with it.

So, what is it about?

First of all, I should mention that I’m kinda hesitant about talking about good vs. bad fandom behaviour. Life isn’t black or white like that and I don’t like to describe processes as if they were. However, there are fandom actions that are bad, and toxic, and I think it can be useful to talk about it in the open. Just remember that I’m not trying to call out anyone here. I think we’re all more or less guilty of negative fandom behaviour.

When I start to talk about what is toxic in a fandom, I suppose it can be smart to start with what it isn’t. Well, obviously, sharing your love for something isn’t. Also, I think that fans disagreeing and discussing stuff isn’t toxic. Making arguments for what you think is a good thing, just as expressing how you feel about something, or critiquing something constructively. Open discussions keep the fandom alive. Talking is good!!!

Attacking others with threats or extreme actions, however, not so much. Here are some examples of what I think are toxic sides of the fandom:

Possessiveness: some fans feel like they own the content they're fans of, that it belongs to them, and only to them. Fans are stalking the actors, for instance, and trying to control them. Sending hate and threats to Henrik’s girlfriend, is a good example. Or spreading hate about Tarjei when he withdrew from some fans and sat boundaries for them. Ulrikke has experienced a lot of hate because she doesn’t follow the wishes of some fans, as well.

What if the actors or creators do some really shitty things? What if they express prejudices or ignorance or maybe they do something they shouldn’t do? Well, it’s not possessive to point out that the creators or actors do shitty things. It’s possessive to try to control them.

I suppose a lot of fans can feel a hint of possessiveness at times. Like, when someone expresses “I almost don’t want this fandom to grow bigger, I want it to stay our small precious treasure”. It doesn’t have to be harmful, only if the fans exclude others or act in a harmful way because of it.

Entitlement: some fans think that the creators must do what they want. For example, the fans may demand a particular romantic pairing or 'ship' to happen in a show, and be furious enough to send death threats to the authors if this doesn't happen.

Everyone can get disappointed in things happening, of course, and expressing that is okay. But there’s a difference between expressing disappointment and spreading hate.

Feeling superior: some fans feel superior to more casual fans, and shout loudly about it. Or they feel better than other fractions of the fandom. Some fans might not feel superior, but maybe special. They have their self-concept shaped by the fact that their fandom makes them an outcast. Maybe they even feel bullied. But in some cases, they are the ones who hate on others for things they like. This can often end in fan wars (”this remake is better than that”).

I think a feeling of “others don’t get this show like we do” is familiar to many in the fandom and in many different groupings. I can’t say that I have felt superior in any way, but

I have at least once expressed my opinions on characterization in a way that other fans found offensive.

Us and them: This toxic culture of possessiveness, entitlement and feeling superior develops in so-called “internet echo chambers”, spaces where dissenting opinions are not tolerated. This means the group has a conformist mentality and everything is about “us” and “them”.

Outsiders are usually rudely educated or just simply banned. This conflict creates a sense of self and community that is tied to the in-group, the 'safe haven' of the fan community. Online, these groups pat each other on the back for liking the right version of the show, or the right ship or whatever, and not only that, but having the group's particular opinions on it, and for participating in conventions, contributing art and fan fiction, and so on.

Losing their identity: When people are part of a group, they often experience a loss of self-awareness. They are less likely to follow normal restraints and inhibitions and more likely to lose their sense of individual identity. Groups can generate a sense of emotional excitement, which can lead to behaviours that a person would not typically engage in if alone.

I think a lot of fans can recognize this feeling of getting swept away with some amazing ideas in a group. When it leads to spreading hate, it becomes toxic.

Addiction: People also get addicted to the attention and validation these online niches can give them, especially if the outside world is less friendly. That leads them to extreme in-group loyalty and extreme out-group hatred. They can get so caught up in their fandom that they stop caring about people outside of it.

And yeah, uhm. I can actually recognize the addictive part of fandom life. I need to check Tumblr and AO3 every day, for instance, as well as check in on fandom friends. I live for every kudos or like I get on the things I make. I know, addiction is maybe not toxic for others than yourself, but I still wanted to add it. Addiction can also lead to toxic behaviour towards others in the fandom.

So... What to do, then?

It’s not easy to handle these things. One problem is that attempting to confront toxic fandom processes results in the groups withdrawing into their echo chambers and feeling superior. I have tried once or twice to answer hate like that with reasoning but often it’s mostly to sort my own thoughts on the subject (I think better in writing). I have rarely experienced to get through to anyone.

Sometimes, or pretty often, ignoring toxic behaviour might be best. Confrontation may just result in circular arguments, after all. If you ignore the behaviour, you're not giving it attention. Also, you can let them think what they want to think. You can block, delete, or ignore negative people or behaviour on most social media networks. I have filtered and blacklisted words on Tumblr and it has helped a lot. That’s maybe one of my best tips. Scroll past stuff that isn’t for you. Remember the phrase “don’t like, don’t read.” Make the content that you’re passionate about. Talk about the things you love. Share your opinions. Focus on the stuff that makes you happy. That’s my goal, anyway.

When should you confront someone, then? My opinion is that it can be okay to confront if they're going beyond simply having an opinion, into the world of threats, harassment, and stalking. When the stuff being said can be hurtful or discriminating, too. Then it’s right to both confront and report, really.

Is this fandom stuff worth all this hassle?

I hope this long rant doesn’t bring you down too much. Despite all of this negativity, I believe fandom is a very positive thing. Most fans just want to enjoy the things they love with others who love the same things. That’s my main goal, too. Skam has been important to me and I want it to continue to be that. I want to keep the fandom as a space to share my love for the show. Thinking through these processes has helped me see a little more clearly how to do that.

Ultimately, the Skam fandom is what we make of it, and we all can make it better. We can talk and share opinions and remind each other that we don’t support harassment, especially over ships or different versions of Skam. We can be decent to each other. I am not saying “be kind, always”, because in my opinion that phrase was never meant to stand alone without “being an asshole isn’t something you become, it’s a choice”.

But yeah, that’s another discussion. My point is, if we all work together, we can manage to have a fandom that is open and tolerant and spreading love instead of fear and hate. And if that’s a little too optimistic, I’m gonna filter and blacklist and stick to “don’t like, don’t read” and see if it helps.

#skam #fandom #fandom processes #skamdom processes #toxic fandom #good fandom

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dramaqueeenamby · 6 years

Text

The Tulips Are Too Red

A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me.

Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.

So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer.

Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling.

Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.

----

It Is Winter Here

Chapter 1

It is Winter Here.

There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.

But I’m not most people.

I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.

Like I said.

Not most people.

I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.

“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”

“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.

Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”

“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.

She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.

“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”

Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.

“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”

Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”

She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”

“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”

“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”

“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”

I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.

On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.

She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.

Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?

Like I said, hawk.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.

He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.

“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”

I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”

Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.

The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.

After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.

“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”

“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”

“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.

“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”

I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.

I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.

She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.

We’ve come a long way.

“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.

As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.

With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.

Creep.

When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.

Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.

My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.

“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.

“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”

When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.

“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.

Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.

“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”

“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”

I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.

“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.

Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread, and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.

The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.

Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.

“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”

Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”

“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.

“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”

“Your tits or your ego?”

She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”

Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”

“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.

“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”

“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.

When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.

“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”

“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.

We all are.

Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”

“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”

She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.

I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.

Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.

“I’m here for night check.”

I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.

He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”

I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”

With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.

Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.

Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.

#personal #DQAFics #PLEASE do not steal

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catty-words · 6 years

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true happiness is so neeeeaaaar

a special thanks to @bethanyactually for reading this over and @notbang for talking some of this out with me. 💖

During my latest watch of Crazy Ex, I kept an eye out for the first time each character breaks into song without Rebecca present or directly involved. It’s well-covered ground that her arrival in West Covina sent ripples through our cast of characters. Inspired by Rebecca’s pursuit of happiness, they started asking themselves—consciously or subconsciously—what would make them happiest. So when does each of them adopt her musical lens, and how does the song they sing inform their journey toward happiness?

Greg – Not surprising considering he wears his unhappiness on his sleeve, Greg is the first one to break into song without Rebecca in episode 1.06 with “What’ll It Be?” The song isn’t really a revelation because there’ve been plenty of hints at just how dissatisfied he feels with his life. Greg hates West Covina (as evidenced by him telling Rebecca it’s not a compliment that she’s starting to fit in around town) and he hates the circumstances that he feels keep him from making any meaningful changes (at the party in the first episode he wastes no time complaining to Rebecca about missing out on Emory because of his sick dad).

Still, “What’ll It Be?” acts as Greg’s thesis statement for that unhappiness. Despite knowing exactly what it is that’s causing his unhappiness, he feels powerless to change it, instead blaming outside forces for keeping him in his current situation. “Hey, West Covina, look what you’re doing to me.”

The unfortunate part is that Greg himself is actually the largest obstacle standing between him and happiness: not his dad, not his job, and not the people of West Covina. His dad, while he seems to appreciate Greg’s presence and care, has clearly decided he’s going to pursue his vices instead of actually maintaining his health. Since he doesn’t actually need to be looked after—he’s made the conscious choice to be unwell—he gives up Greg pretty easily when the time comes in 2.02. Though Greg asserts that he’s going to be upset by his leaving, Marco’s behavior (i.e. chastising Greg for wasting his savings on him because he was supposed to use it for school) actually point to the fact that he’d be happy to see his son leave even back in 1.06.

As for his job, yes, all food service professions suck on a certain level, and Greg’s certainly not getting rich for the drudgery he has to endure. However, in 1.06, we see that Greg’s attitude is really what makes the job such a drag. Kevin, his boss, is in fact a pretty understanding and amiable guy. He takes feedback well and genuinely wants his employees to succeed. The fact that Greg feels so smothered there has as much to do with how he approaches the situation as it does the nature of the job itself.

Finally, the people of West Covina/the town itself only seem like they’re keeping Greg trapped because he actively dismisses and looks down on it all. In reality, the people he associates with most closely—White Josh, Hector, Rebecca, and again, even his father—actively encourage Greg to make changes with an eye toward pursuing business school, as well as call him out on his most destructive behaviors. It’s just that Greg can’t take their encouragement at face value because he’s dwelling on the negativity in his life and can’t seem to break that habit.

Of course, alcoholism plays its part in the unhappiness equation, and that’s no small thing. But, again, that’s something Greg has to deal with and overcome internally. It has little to do with his external circumstances, as the Greg who’s singing “What’ll It Be?” would have us believe.

It makes sense, then, that when he finally takes ownership of his hand in his own shitty situation, he’s able to break the pattern and actually pursue the career of his choosing. He removes himself from the environment that tempts him back into stasis and takes control of his life. No longer feeling powerless, Greg is at least on the path to knowing happiness.

Paula – Paula’s the next one to get caught up in the music with “His Status is Preferred” from 1.07. On the surface, this song seems like a trite expression of unhappiness, of simply wanting a more exciting life, but, as we know, the situation’s a lot more nuanced than we think.

During the course of season one, it becomes clearer and clearer that Paula’s over-involvement in Rebecca’s pursuit of Josh has more to do with her than it does Rebecca and Josh being genuinely good for each other. I believe 1.03 is the first time we see Paula and Scott interact and boy is it uncomfortable. Scott is distracted, Paula’s passive-aggressive, and the kids are a mess.

The further we move into the show, the more we understand Paula’s state of mind. She’s been raised to believe that starting a family is the most important thing she’ll ever do (“My dad was right, I’m a breeder not a leader”), but she feels very disconnected from both her kids and her husband. Part of the reason is that she thinks she missed out on her fairy tale romance, so how is anything she actually built supposed to compare to that? On some level, Paula’s always living in a fantasy realm where everything worked out with Jeff and she’s truly happy.

It should be pointed out, though, that while Jeff gives Paula’s yearning for something different a face, the problem itself is not specifically that man. Any fantasy would do in keeping Paula from fully accepting how her real-life relationship played out. In point of fact, Calvin fills that role here in 1.07. He’s just another expression of Paula chasing a fantasy to avoid dealing with her reality.

As such, Paula’s just as much a product of the damaging “patriarchal love narrative” as Rebecca. The notion that real and true love is all about the spark, that it’s a force of nature you can’t possibly fly in the face of, that it’s something easy and all-consuming keeps her from doing the hard work necessary to maintain a relationship with her husband and family. And, because she feels the spark with Calvin, she gets caught up in the fanciful notion that being with him will make her feel happy, important, and valued — “My whole life has been stuck in economy, I have waited and waited to someday be upgraded, to spread my wings and fly…”

Of course, we have Rebecca swoop in and point out that Paula’s pursuit of Calvin isn’t an authentic or healthy remedy to her true unhappiness before anything regretful happens. Because it’s Rebecca imposing her own revelation on Paula though, this is far from the last time the issue comes up. At this point, Paula hasn’t learned the lesson herself, and she needs to fumble a little more before she does.

We still haven’t seen the final resolution to this conflict, and I don’t think there will be one scene or moment that wraps it up with a nice bow. Deep-seated issues like Paula’s unhealthy relationship to what it means to be a mother and a wife don’t simply go away. 3.07 showed us that she’s mindful of what her patterns are, but we have yet to see evidence that the work is being done to avoid falling back into them. She’s finally let go of the fantasy, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to feel content with reality.

Valencia – In 1.09, Valencia is the next character to break out into song by herself with “Women Gotta Stick Together.” When I first sat down to write this meta, the fact that Valencia was the third most affected by Rebecca’s pursuit of happiness seemed surprising. They have such a complicated, antagonistic relationship at this point, it’s kind of jarring to imagine Rebecca having a hand in connecting Valencia with her happiness.

Upon further reflection though, it makes perfect sense. Valencia has constructed a life that makes her so deeply unhappy, of course Rebecca swooping in and going after the foundation on which Valencia’s built her on-paper fantastic life would bring all her dissatisfaction to the surface. “Women Gotta Stick Together,” then, is Valencia’s acknowledgement of everything that keeps her feeling trapped, just buried under a few layers of satire and subtext.

You see, Valencia is a classic case of how female socialization teaches us to view all other women as threats because we’re competing for male attention, and this perceived competition has kept her from truly connecting with other women. However, as we know from her interactions with Rebecca in 1.02 and her eager initiation into the #GurlGroup4Evah, Valencia actually craves female friendship above all else. She regrets losing her high school friends because she was given male attention instead of them (read: sexually assaulted, yikes). She is willingly wooed by the potential relationship with Rebecca even though she was clearly skeptical about ulterior motives. And she throws herself into the group activities—embracing everything from going to the bathroom in pairs to awkward sex toy parties with vigor.

So, even though she’s using satire to mask it, Valencia definitely desires the picturesque, supportive relationships she describes in the beginning of the song: “Females helping females for the greater good. Sisters helping sisters, that’s called sisterhood.” Unfortunately, at this point, she’s also unable to get past her compulsion to attack and belittle every other woman with the end goal of proving she’s the most desireable.

It should also be noted that Valencia’s wholehearted acceptance of the competition narrative is born of her need to ignore her attraction to other women. Though I personally think Valencia’s coming out arc was a travesty because it was handled so poorly, it still confirms in canon that her relationship with Josh was a big, honking example of a woman struggling with compulsory heterosexuality. For evidence, look to V’s 2.05 speech about how she knew the relationship was dead a long time ago—she felt it necessary to keep pushing this relationship forward without love and affection from Josh because a) love and affection was not actually what she wanted from any man and b) she feared having to adapt to the change and examine her life if her and Josh broke up, forcing her closer to the truth that she’s a lesbian—and the scene between Valencia, Josh, and Beth in beginning of 3.12 where it’s revealed that Valencia had a problem with Josh touching her but has no such reservations when it comes to Beth.

That being said, her constant putting down of other women and their appearances functions as a way for Valencia to distance herself from her attraction. It’s easier to remain locked in competition and criticize other women’s bodies than it is to accept her attraction. (Valencia’s clear overcompensation is the reason it’s totally OOC for her coming-out process to be easy and easily glossed over.) But, of course, without acknowledging her true self, Valencia can never be truly happy with her relationships.

Finally, “Women Gotta Stick Together” hints at the unhappiness Valencia feels trying to live under the pressure to look physically appealing to men. There are clear mentions throughout the series of Valencia’s disordered eating (in 1.06 with the “I’ve been starving since 1998” line and plenty of dialogue in 2.05 and 2.07, to name just a few examples). Not only is she overcompensating for her attraction to women by dissecting their appearance, she’s overcompensating for her clear discomfort with her own body by building herself up in relation to how much skinnier she is than her “competition.” Not only is she starving her physical body of sustenance, she’s starving herself of the chance to be content.

Darryl - In 1.10—consequently, right after he spends time with Rebecca socially for the first time by crashing her bus trip to the beach—Darryl gets his solo number. “Having a Few People Over” is far from the deepest song the show’s ever done, but it is still a very clear statement of Darryl’s unhappiness.

The man is obviously lonely, and he tries way too hard to manufacture interpersonal relationships he feels will assuage his loneliness. He’s constantly pushing a friendship with Paula despite her implicit and explicit desire not to have one. He inserts himself into Rebecca and Paula’s private conversations because he wants so desperately to be involved. In 1.10, he hires a bunch of escorts so the guys won’t be bored enough to bail on the evening. He even goes so far as to bully Maya because he sees the same unflattering desperation in her.

And the fact that he tries so hard, that he uses flashy bells and whistles to attract people to him, shows a deep dissatisfaction with who he is at his core. Darryl doesn’t think that his personality, alone, is enough to earn the bond and acceptance of friendship. He feels he has to dress up his company in something fancy—like, say, an EDM song—to be good enough.

Because this is such a consistent character trait of his, I was disappointed with the framing of his season three storyline. At this point in his life, Darryl has forged more meaningful bonds than he had before with White Josh and the people at Whitefeather. I wish the writers had taken the opportunity to let Darryl explore why he still felt so unhappy with his interpersonal relationships, gone more of a “if I still feel lonely with WhiJo around, if i feel like I need to manufacture a more serious relationship with a baby, what would it actually take for me to find happiness?” route.

Heather - Heather is just about the last person to break into song without Rebecca present with “Don’t Settle for Me” in 1.13. As possibly the most self-examined character on the show, her expression of unhappiness has nothing to do with internal conflict. Instead, she expresses dissatisfaction with her situation. Heather knows her worth, and won’t allow Greg to keep them both in a relationship if he’s not being honest about his intentions.

Interestingly enough, though Heather has an identity crisis in season three because she likes being a student, the arc of her conflict centers on her not knowing what the world has to offer her besides the opportunity to learn. While the character feels unmoored from her identity, she still approaches the situation with a kind of self-assuredness everyone else lacks. Her unhappiness in season three, again, has more to do with external circumstances than deep-seated emotional trauma or hangups.

And it’s fitting, then, that the resolution to this specific storyline is that Heather creates her own place in the world. She sees an opportunity and takes the chance to become gainfully employed at a job that still allows for creative expression through the various hobbies and special interests she wants to pursue.

Josh - Pretty much for the opposite reason as Heather, Josh is the last main cast member to get his own musical number with 1.17’s “Angry Mad.” The reason he’s so late to join everyone else in their examination of unhappiness is because Josh is typically pretty satisfied. He’s not looking for any deeper meaning or purpose. All his conflict in season one is surface stuff, like feeling too adult to celebrate Christmas.

And even when he does start to feel unhappy about something—i.e. losing Rebecca’s affirming attention and affection when her focus shifts to Greg—he doesn’t have the self-awareness to really explore what’s at the root of that emotion. He’d rather not acknowledge or face the problem head-on. As a result, “Angry Mad” expresses that Josh is unhappy because he’s unhappy instead of taking a closer look at why seeing Rebecca with Greg makes Josh uncomfortable.

This inability to take stock of his life definitely bites Josh in the ass more than once. It’s what gets him in over his head with Rebecca in season two. It’s what leads him to leave Rebecca on their wedding day instead of calling off the wedding (or perhaps never proposing in the first place). It’s what stops Josh from taking action to halt his downward spiral in season three because the poor oaf doesn’t even realize he’s spiraling until it’s too late.

That being said, season three did a major disservice to what little interiority the character had. I hope season four regains some focus when it comes to Josh, and he’s at least set on the path toward understanding himself and his needs better.

Nathaniel - Finally, we have our late-comer Nathaniel. It takes him eight episodes to get a solo without Rebecca being there with the 3.03 number “I Go to The Zoo.” This puts him right between Paula and Valencia in terms of how long it took Rebecca to influence his worldview enough to get him breaking into song.

Not surprising considering he’s one of the most emotionally stunted characters, his big number is essentially about retreating into childhood comforts when he’s feeling upset. The thing is, while Nathaniel’s trying to find solace in the simplicity, his upbringing is also the source of his unhappiness. His withholding parents never gave him the tools he needed to process his feelings and deal with them healthily. The effects of this have reached well into his adult life as he seems incapable of forming lasting, meaningful bonds with any person—from his disinterest and mistrust of long-term relationships in season two to his series of dick moves with Mona in season three.*

Even his interactions with Rebecca, the person who he confesses makes him want to be better at feeling his feels, lack authenticity eighty percent of the time. His confession of love in 3.04 is an inarticulate mess that devolves into a tangle of misused cliches. He’s clearly working off the Patriarchal Love Narrative, trying to be the definite-article Love Interest, instead of allowing himself to have a genuine moment with Rebecca. In the season finale, their duet is, at least on one level*, a big long joke about how little progress Nathaniel has actually made in accessing his emotions and feeling more empathetic.

Though he’s made progress toward being more open—look to the final scene of 3.06 or even his confessions during the masquerade—he still can’t seem to consider how his actions or emotional needs might affect others. Once, he might have considered this machiavellian approach to interpersonal relationships a strength. Now that he’s found some people he really wants to form lasting emotional bonds with, though, it’s the weakness that’s standing between him and happiness.

*I’d like to clarify that I’m not trying to make the argument that Nathaniel’s upbringing in any way justifies his behavior, especially when it comes to the affair, but it does give us at least a better understanding of his motivations, a clearer lens through which to view the character. And I think that’s another important element of Nothing is Ever Anyone’s Fault. While taking empathy for people’s trauma to the extreme makes it almost valueless and a mockery of itself, the ability to understand why people behave the way that they do is fundamental to liking any of the characters on this show. The line that you have to walk, then, becomes messy and complicated, but it makes for a truly fascinating look at human nature.

#crazy ex girlfriend #crazy ex meta #greg serrano #paula proctor #valencia perez #darryl whitefeather #heather davis #way too badass to be someone you settle for #josh chan #nathaniel plimpton #yes i gave my meta a cutesy title #what of it?#also #now i can stop talking about how i should finish my crazy ex happiness meta #because BAM #i finally actually did it

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ittybittypbandj · 6 years

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The Internship - Chapter 1

Trying my hand at a multi-chapter Bittyparse fic! 5 chapters, weekly updates. Also on ao3. <3

Summary:

Eric Bittle arrived in New York two weeks ago, newly single and ready for a fresh start. This internship was just what he needed to jumpstart his life.

Kent Parson loved his life in New York. He was at the peak of his NHL career. He had friends, the world's greatest cat, and everything he thought he needed.

He never expected a small Southern blonde to burst into his life and turn everything on its head.

Bitty frowned hard at the red bowtie. He twisted away from the mirror, tugging it off as he reached for the lavender one. Lordy, lavender was just as bad. How had all his favorite ties had become gauche overnight?

His mama had reassured him over Skype last night, "Don't worry, Dicky. You'll do great. You'll charm the socks off 'em. Before you know it, they'll be movin' you over to that food magazine you love so much." And he was gonna prove her right. He just needed to put in a little time, show them what he could do.

But how could he do it in a tie that screamed I don't know what I'm doing and by the way I’m bad with animals?

Okay fine, maybe it wasn't the tie's fault. If this were Jack’s first game of the season, Bitty would be reminding him to breathe right about now. He would be alright. He was Eric Richard Bittle. He could land a double Axel with his eyes closed and bake a flourless chocolate cake in Georgia in July. He could do this.

Bitty had moved to Brooklyn two weeks ago, eager to start his new internship in Manhattan. For the next three months he would be a Social Media Associate for Fancy Feline cat food. The job paid a stipend - not much, but enough to finance his matchbook-sized bedroom and name-brand butter - and there was a possibility at the end to extend his contract. It wasn't exactly his dream job, but what was a boy supposed to do? A year out of college, a degree in American Studies, and no experience? Employers weren't exactly banging down his door with offers.

A year ago, Bitty thought Jack was his future. At graduation, he had plans of moving in with Jack, finding a job in Providence, and settling down into their shared life.

After Bitty moved to Providence, he’d sent resume after resume to employers but couldn’t find a job. Jack was out of town frequently and Bitty didn’t have any local friends – Lardo and Shitty and Holster and Ransom were all in Boston, which was just far enough away to be logistically difficult – and he found himself more isolated than he expected.

Bitty also realized that he’d only experienced Jack’s intensity and anxiety through the rosy lens of infatuation. They both struggled with the shift in their living situation, lord knows it was as hard on Jack as it was on him. In April when Jack’s playoff run ended abruptly from a wrist injury and an eight-week recovery, Bitty’d been ready to poke out his own eye rather than face another day of both of them at home, dancing around the fact that this just wasn’t working.

And so, after they’d finally talked and cried and shared a joint session with Jack’s therapist, Bitty and Jack called it quits and Bitty tearfully phoned Lardo to break the news. He’d stayed on her and Shitty’s lumpy couch in Boston for two months while Shitty called in a family favor and helped him land this internship.

Even after everything, Bitty was feeling hopeful. All he needed was a few months' experience and a job on his resume more substantial than ‘running a baking vlog’. He took a deep breath and released it, checked his hair one last time, queued up Queen Bey on his headphones, and headed for the subway.

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Bitty’s first day at the office was a whirlwind of new faces and information. Meesha, Bitty’s fellow intern and apparently the person in charge, led him on a brisk tour through the office and he practically skip-jogged to keep up with her. While they walked, she peppered him with information about the department.

"You’ll coordinate the images and story for all the social media platforms, and you’ll directly manage the endorsement relationships." Meesha glanced over her shoulder to check that he was keeping up. "I do all the site and ad placement, and Tito runs the admin side. We're all a hot mess this week prepping for Kit, but don’t worry - we'll get you settled in just fine."

"Kit?" Bitty asked.

"Oh yeah, Kit Purrson. She's launching as the face of Fancy Feline in, like, three weeks. Totes adorbs and has a crazy-ass following. We've got, like, a zillion things to do to get ready. I'm sure you'll jump right in. You've used Visio, right?"

By lunch, Bitty’s head was swirling with acronyms and spreadsheets. It felt a little like in figure skating when he’d come out of a scratch spin too fast - the world was wobbly and the colors were spinning, but he was confident it would right itself if he grinned and skated through it.

"Heeeey, how's our new boy doin'?" someone yelled as they passed his and Meesha’s cubicle. Bitty spied styled black hair over the cubicle wall.

"Hey Tito!” Meesha called back. “He's great!"

Tito appeared from around the corner, eight coffees in two to-go containers balanced masterfully on one arm. He read the lids and carefully passed one to Meesha. "You guys ready for our guest today? I’m totally having him sign something.”

Meesha rolled her eyes as she inhaled the fragrant coffee. “You are seriously the lamest. Sports are a consumerist construct and the guy is basically, like, Kit’s chaperone. She’s the real star.”

Tito laughed and offered a cup to Bitty, “Hey Eric, I wasn’t sure what to get you. How’s a vanilla sugar oat milk latte? It’s the special across the street.”

Bitty grinned. “Thanks, hon!” His first day was turning out pretty great.

Meesha steered Bitty into a large conference room. Tito ran to his desk for a hat and marker before joining the people assembling around the conference table. Lordy, he hadn’t been lying about an autograph. Who was this guy?

A dozen folks chatted quietly around the table. Their guest was apparently running late, and Meesha took the opportunity to fill Bitty in on launch plans. As she was explaining the finer points of multi-platform synchronization, Bitty heard a man’s laughter down the hall. His ears perked up. Did he know that voice? Surely it couldn’t be –

Bitty’s head jerked up as an effortlessly well-dressed man in a royal blue snapback stepped into the room. Their eyes locked.

Oh lord. Kent Parson.

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Kent scowled at Kit, his chin resting on his hands on the cold hardwood.

“C’mon, baby, you’ve got to eat it.”

Kit sniffed the dish daintily, nonplussed.

“I know, princess,” he wheedled, “but daddy’s going to make you the most famous li’l furbaby on the internet. You’ll pass grumpy cat like he forgot how to frown. All you have to do is eat the gross food.”

Kit mrowled in disapproval and Kent rearranged his awkward limbs. So this is what his adulthood had come to, he mused. Two condos, three sports cars, a slew of hockey awards, and apparently a cat too picky to eat the goddamn food she was paid a shitload of money to represent.

Tonight’s standoff had lasted an hour, and Kent would be damned if he let Kit win again.

He scratched his nose. He probably should be doing the prep work the Fancy Feline team needed before Kit’s photo shoot. At the meeting today, they’d given him a to-do list that rivaled his off-season training goals. He was supposed to check with Eric Bittle if he had any questions.

Speaking of which, why had Eric Blast-from-the-Past Bittle even been there today? Kent would have appreciated a goddamn heads-up, that’s for sure.

Eric looked good, he thought. A little taller and sharper than he remembered. His hair game was on point. Kent had only seen him a couple times in the four years since the Samwell party where they first met, and of course Eric had grown up, but seriously – he was hot now.

But why the hell was he in New York City? And was this related to the charming, old-man text messages Jack had started to send Kent out of the blue a month ago?

Kent debated texting Jack to ask, but it was a horrible idea. Either Jack and Eric were still together and Jack would send awkward Canadian nonsense about how great Eric was, or they weren’t together and Jack would get pissed and shut Kent out of his life again.

Kent sighed and climbed to his feet, heading to the refrigerator for Kit’s specialty wet food and a glass of white wine to wash down the bitter taste of defeat. He would fight the cat food battle another day. As Kit scarfed down hand-seared filet mignon, Kent sipped his wine and fiddled with his phone.

Kent: hey dude what’s up? I saw your boy today.

Jack: Hey Kent.

Jack: What?

Well shitballs, this was already turning out to be a terrible idea. No turning back now, Kent reasoned.

Kent: Eric was at a business meeting today. all suited up and shit.

Kent: what’s he doing in NYC? u guys ok?

Jack: Oh.

Jack: We broke up in April.

Kent: shit Zimms, that really blows. he seemed like a cool guy

Jack: Yeah.

Kent: sometimes it just doesn’t work out, y’know? i’m sure you’ll find somebody great

Jack: How was the meeting?

Kent: oh

Kent: it was good. boring as watching ice melt but productive I guess

Kent: eric looks good, I mean not in a weird creepy way but he looks like he’s doing ok?

[Jack is typing…]

[Last message received 8:54pm]

Kent: hey, did you see the new netflix show where ordinary people recreate fancy cakes and that crazy lady yells at everybody?

Kent: it’s the tits

Jack: No, but I’ll check it out.

Kent: dooo iiit

Jack: What’s the name?

Kent: fuck if I know. it’s the one with the previews of nasty looking cakes and ppl getting screamed at. you can’t miss it. it’s a goddamn gem.

Jack: Sounds like it.

Jack: And, thanks Parse. I’m glad he’s doing OK.

Kent: no problem man

Kent: any time

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Bitty paced all eight feet of his bedroom, back and forth, back and forth.

He was supposed to be starting a new life! In a city of eight million people, how had he stumbled upon the one person connected to his life with Jack? And how was he supposed to be professional and work with said person, when everyone (well, maybe just Bitty) knew that he was secretly a manipulative asshole?

Good gracious, he might be freaking out just a little. He needed reassurance. Who could he talk to that knew the situation and would be supportive and not weird?

Bitty: LARDOOOOO

Lardo: BITTTYYYY

Lardo: Why the yelling, Bits?

Bitty: I am coordinating a photo shoot at Kent Parson’s house next week. KENT PARSON’S HOUSE

Lardo: That’s sick bro.

Lardo: They’re giving you a lot of responsibility right away. Nice.

Bitty: -_-;

Bitty: I think you’re missing the point

Bitty: KENT PARSON KENT PARSON KENT PARSON

Lardo: Lol Bitty cool your jets. He’s been pretty chill lately, hasn’t he?

Bitty: If you mean ‘not making my boyfriend have any more panic attacks’, then yes he’s been chill

Bitty: But I’d say that’s a VERY low bar to hurdle

Lardo: Have you met him yet? How was it?

Lardo: Does he know you and Jack broke up?

Bitty: I’m pretty sure he didn’t know who I WAS

Bitty: Period.

Lardo: No way, dude. You’ve meet him multiple times, right?

Bitty: twice, 3 times if you count the disaster at the Haus

Lardo: He totally remembers you, dude. You’re unforgettable.

Lardo: You’re like a delightful minor superhero.

Lardo: You’re Antman.

Bitty: Ugggghhh this is the worst

Bitty: and Antman, seriously? We are SO gonna talk about that later

Lardo: Bitty, bro of my heart, it’s truth time. You sitting down?

Bitty: *sits*

Lardo: Good.

Lardo: Here’s the thing. Kent Parson is just a dude. A dude with some fucked-up history respective to one JLZ, but still just a dude.

Bitty: I know, but…

Lardo: Hush, Padawan.

Bitty: -_- *hushes*

Lardo: He’s probs not an evil person. You’ve only ever seen him in relation to J, and they went thru some messed up shit as kids. When he’s not dealing with that, he’s probably a boring-ass adult with a job and a cat. You can’t judge him forever based on the 3 times you’ve met.

Lardo: Was he awful the other times?

Bitty: Well no, mostly just at Epikegster

Bitty: But he was Really Bad that time

Lardo: I get it Bits, but if that’s his only awful moment, then the dude already has like a 67% not-awful rate.

Bitty: So you’re saying I’m all worked up over nothin?

Lardo: Maybe? Give him a chance.

Lardo: You don’t have to be BFFs. Just be professional and friendly until he gives you a reason not to be. If it turns out he’s a dickhead, you have my blessing to fuck up his shit.

Bitty: Thanks Lards. Mind if I snap you outfit choices later?

Lardo: Do it. Matching polish?

Bitty: Yes’m but toes only. I miss your help with fingers. It gets all smudgy when I do it

Lardo: I miss you, bro.

Bitty: You too :-*

_/_/_/ \_\_\_

Kent pressed the center button on his phone again…8:51am. This was officially the longest morning in the history of time.

So far he’d gone for a run, made a smoothie, showered, arranged the throw pillows, hidden the dopey photo of him and his sis at Disneyland, brushed Kit. Now he was sitting on the couch, running shoes bouncing on the marble coffee table as he waited for the Fancy Feline team to arrive. Maybe he should make coffee? He hopped up, re-fluffed the pillows, and headed to the kitchen.

The crew arrived promptly at nine, accepting the hot mugs of coffee Kent passed around. Eric shook his hand and started up a pleasant and professional stream of small talk as the photographer set up tripods and the assistant unfolded white umbrellas.

Unfortunately, Kit decided this was her party and she could hide if she wanted to. She spent the first hour perched on the bookcase, refusing to budge for treats or catnip.

Kent couldn’t blame her. Usually it was just her and him in the apartment, and even when he had people over, she generally ignored them and slept in the bedroom on the Monsieur Taco pillow he won her at Coney Island. Having a half-dozen strangers in her space, hovering over her with cameras and lights? He’d probably peace out too, if he were her.

After thirty minutes and no success, Kent relinquished the catnip to the assistant and excused himself to start a fresh pot of coffee. From the kitchen counter, he found himself watching Eric.

Eric was frowning as the drama unfolded, his lean torso hunched in concentration. His right foot tapped impatiently on the rug. It wasn’t Eric’s job to get Kit to participate. Eric had explained this to Kent while they were setting up, that his role today was to make sure they got all the shots they needed for the campaign.

As Kent watched him now, Eric nodded to himself like he’d made a decision and marched over to the bookcase. He began talking animatedly with the photographer and gesturing rapidly, taking charge of the situation like a tiny major general. Kent was impressed. Hell, even Kit watched him with interest.

Kent felt a little like a jerk – he’d always thought Eric was childish and annoying, based on their past brief interactions and Eric’s animated Twitter feed (not that he’d internet stalked him, pssh). But maybe Kent had it wrong. This version of Eric seemed full-to-bursting with charisma and natural leadership. Hell, even Queen Kit respected it.

As Eric directed the strategy to coax Kit off her perch and over to the windowsill, Kent couldn’t help but stare. Eric glowed warm and golden, like Southern sunlight was radiating from his pores. He looked good in control.

Kent’s stomach did a pleasant swoop as he thought about Eric taking control in other ways. Or what it would take to convince Eric to give up that control, to go soft and pliant and let Kent – or someone, whatever – do the controlling.

His chest tingled warmly. This probably wasn’t the best train of thought for a professional gathering; nothing like sporting a quarter chub at ten a.m. with people here to photograph your cat. He sighed, rearranged his junk, and headed back into the living room with the coffee pot.

The rest of the shoot ran smoothly. Kit, once she felt comfortable, totally hammed it up for the camera. Eric took behind-the-scenes videos and sent the best ones to Kent. They all shared high-fives when a video Kent tweeted of himself ineptly juggling cat toys got retweeted by George Takei. In celebration of their good social media fortune, Kent poured everyone mimosas.

Before Kent knew it, it was late afternoon and the photographer’s assistant started to disassemble the equipment. Eric herded everyone to the sofa where he handed out packets of instructions and debriefed them on next steps, and then the crew shook hands and headed out one by one.

As Kent shut the door after the last person, he wandered into the kitchen to find Eric still in the apartment, loading the dishwasher.

“Dude, you really don’t need to do that. I can do it after you go.”

“Kent Parson,” Eric scolded, “my mama would never forgive me if I left a host with a mess to clean up. It’s nothin’, really.”

“Thanks, man,” Kent replied. It was cool of Eric to offer and, if Kent was being honest, he probably would have left it a mess until his housecleaner came tomorrow. He started to consolidate cardboard containers of Chinese food.

They worked in silence in the spacious kitchen, making quick work of the cleanup. Kent caught Eric humming to himself. He recognized the tune – All For You by Janet Jackson – and sang along to Eric’s humming.

Eric let out a surprised huff, his cheeks pink. “Oh lordy! Was I singing that out loud?”

Kent just laughed and pulled out his phone, and one of his favorite pop mixes began playing from hidden speakers. Eric bopped his head to Janelle Monae as he dried the glasses. Kent lip-synced into a bottle of soy sauce like it was a microphone.

As Kent reached around Eric’s shoulder to place the wine glasses on a high shelf, their eyes met and Kent winked. He’d enjoyed a few mimosas and Eric was cute, so sue him. He just thought it’d be fun to make Eric blush, and his efforts were thoroughly rewarded. Eric’s blush spread from his face down his neck, reddening the soft skin at the base of his throat.

Kent felt the warm tingly feelings in his chest again. Shit, Eric was cute.

Abruptly, Eric turned and said, “I really should get going. We’ve got the kitchen under control and I need to upload these videos before tomorrow.”

Kent felt oddly deflated, although of course Eric was going to leave when they finished cleaning. He should probably apologize in case his wink had made Eric uncomfortable. Kent spent his days around gross hockey players, maybe he’d just committed some corporate sexual harassment shit and he didn’t even know it. Kent fished around for something to say that didn’t make him sound like a creeper.

He smiled and tried, “Kit really enjoyed having you here today. You’re good with cats.”

“Ha, thanks.” Bitty twisted the dishtowel in his hands. “I’m not really a cat person, but Kit’s great. Y’all’ve got a really special bond.”

“Maybe you could come over and get some more candid shots sometime?” Kent made a face. For Christ’s sake, he sounded ridiculous. “I mean, the ones today were really good.”

Eric’s face did something complicated. Kent watched him bite his bottom lip.

“Thanks,” Eric replied finally, “but no. I should go.”

“Oh,” Kent exhaled, “Yeah, of course. Sure thing, man.”

Kent helped Eric retrieve his things and walked him to the entryway. As Kent shut the door behind him, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

He was so fucked.

#bittyparse #eric bittle #kent parson #kit purrson #omgcp #omgcp fanfic #omgcp fic #kent plays for the rangers #and kit purrson is queen of the world #well queen of my heart #hope you like it!#this is my first time posting tumblr fic #pls tell me if I'm doing it wrong!

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rotationalsymmetry · 3 years

Text

Oh, that’s what the dress thing is about.

You know, I think it’s really fucking annoying when Democrats don’t stand by their alleged convictions. When they refuse to stand by “defund the police” and instead use “tough on crime” language. When they refuse to stand by the vision of a less militaristic America and talk about wanting America to be “strong”. I think it’s annoying when they refuse to challenge the idea that the stock market doing well is the same as average people having secure, well-paying jobs, and I think it’s annoying when they buy into the idea that people should have to earn necessities through working for them, rather than things like food and shelter and health care and education being inherent rights. I think it’s annoying when they play up their Christianity to avoid offending religious conservatives, when they talk about how abortion should be “rare” to avoid offending conservatives, when they engage in the pretense that racism is primarily a result of poor rural whites getting left behind (granted, poor rural people getting left behind is a very real problem, it’s just… not why Trump got the election in 2016. Nor is that problem fixable by backing off on things like queer rights and immigrant rights. Anyways.)

So when a Democrat does the opposite of that and makes a clear, unambiguous, and indeed controversial statement about what they’re for? That’s a good thing.

AOC can’t win for losing. She’s simultaneously dismissed for being from a working class background (“go back to being a bartender”) and also demonized whenever she wears clothes that are typical of and appropriate for someone in her position. It’s bullshit and regressive, and it’s hard to imagine it’s not connected to her being a woman of color.

AOC isn’t some profound traitor to the cause or whatever. She’s not a demon. She’s not our savior either. She’s a human being like the rest of us with strengths and weaknesses who is attempting to make a certain type of change through the political process. People who are in favor of making that sort of change through those sorts of methods tend to like her and talk her up and that’s good and appropriate and consistent with their worldview. (And…while there are limits to the political process, there are also matters of life and death significance that happen though it whether you are engaging with it or not. There is a difference between someone like AOC being in the House and someone like, idk, whatever conservative is trying to pass the worst fucking laws right now.) People who are cynical about the method do best to give her as little attention as possible and focus on other things — union organizing, protesting, mutual aid, guerilla gardening, sharing info about where to get textbooks for free, figuring out how to show Bezos’ debit card number in Times Square, whatever.

(Obviously I am not advocating doing anything illegal because that would be breaking the law, and breaking the law would be breaking the law. Ahem.)

Realistically most people aren’t radical, and it is as irrational to expect progressives to be radicals as it is for progressives to expect radicals to have the same politics as them.

If you’re following a lot of people who aren’t personal friends and also don’t share your worldview, you’ve got a call to make over whether it’s worth putting up with them expressing opinions based on a different worldview. If there’s someone you have a good relationship with that has a different opinion on the effectiveness of the political process than you, or who thinks it’s ineffective but is stanning AOC anyways because sometimes people are inconsistent, maybe have a direct one on one conversation about that. But there’s really no reason for people on the left to get mad that AOC is making a political statement that at least approximately corresponds to our priorities.

(And there is no way to criticize someone who is making a political statement while doing a normal politician thing that she was going to do in any case, for, you know, wearing an expensive dress or whatever, without it coming across as you’re actually criticizing the statement.)

Sometimes people come to radical politics by a slide from liberal to progressive to radical. (I would have thought that was the only way, but from what some people say on tumblr I guess some people go straight from being raised conservative to radical with no in between? And some people do get raised radical. Anyways.) I think when people slide in the other direction, which can happen, it’s because of things like lack of community support and perceived ineffectiveness. Yelling at progressives isn’t really going to change those issues. Focusing on making the left strong and interconnected and effective is.

“Strong,” just shoot me now. Sigh.

There are some big differences between liberals/progressives and radicals/leftists. I think the core one is liberals/progressives tend to basically trust the system. I think it is actually really important for people with radical politics who were raised trusting the system, myself included, to intentionally unlearn that trust. Maybe for some people that involves a period of demonizing politicians to overwrite a basic tendency to trust the politicians that are on “your side”, idk, maybe this is somehow helpful for someone. For me I think it’s more effective though to take a mellower approach, and go back to core values. AOC is advocating wealth redistribution, and that is a value I share. I also have values that are not anywhere near the Overton window: open borders, land back, police and prison abolition, abolishment of corporations and nation states and capitalism and very specifically the United States as an imperial power, and I’m not sure how many of those AOC is in favor of on a personal level (I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s for open borders anyways), but definitely there is only so far the political process is going to be able to go in moving towards those goals. So regardless of what I think of her as a person or politician, there are some things that she’s not going to be with me on, and that’s ok. Most people aren’t. I can focus on the ones that are, and with the rest I can either focus on other values that we share or I can let them go their own way when they’re not actively standing in opposition to what I’m for. It’s ok.

It’s important to not swing back and forth between “this politician is amazing and the best and is going to change everything for the better” and “this politician is the literal worst” (when they’re actually better/less bad than most.) It’s important to see differences. There is a narrow range of what a given politician is likely to be able to do, and they act within those ranges and can only be sensibly evaluated within those ranges. If you want to go “but fuck all politicians though” that’s fine, there’s something to be said for seeing politicians as a class whose interests don’t align with the interests of people with less power — like landlords, like cops, like bosses. But if that’s your take there’s still no real reason to single out one specific politician who happens to be 1. a woman of color and 2. for that class, about as non-shitty as they come.

I mean, you can fundamentally not like bosses and still notice when a boss who’s a woman of color gets a lot more hate directed at her than the white male bosses, and find that kinda weird and concerning and probably reflective of how people saying those things treat women of color who aren’t in positions of relative power. Same for politicians.

Like yeah “we’re not going to girlboss our way out of this one” sure, but also…how relatively powerful women get treated and how powerless women get treated is not entirely unrelated. And if I can’t dance I don’t want to be a part of your revolution. (=misogyny (and racism and the intersection thereof) within leftism is still a problem actually.)

Anyways: you’ll notice I almost never post about politicians including AOC on here. I’m certainly not going to start stanning her. I don’t think that’s constructive. Democracy, to the extent that it’s a useful concept, isn’t about which horse you back. It’s about organizing and coming together and coalition building and taking to the streets and an awful lot of phone calls and mailing parties and meetings and talking and listening and research and attempting to translate legal text into something that makes sense and figuring out how to phrase things persuasively and supportive infrastructure like local newspapers and hashtags and days of action and petitions and saving your elected officials’ phone numbers in your contacts and showing up. (And so much fucking fundraising, endless fucking fundraising.) It’s often more about stanning laws and policy concepts (“green new deal”, “Medicare for all” etc) than stanning politicians. People who focus on politicians do not know how to do democracy IMO.

#long post #political #discourse

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torn-and-frayed · 6 years

Text

With All My Heart - Part 13

Word Count: 3196

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Self loathing, Horrible terrible no good very bad smut

A/N: Thanks to @percywinchester27 @impalaimagining and @sis-tafics for reading this over for me.

A/N #2: This is the reason I don’t write smut, right here, in all its glory, you’ve been warned.

Feedback and Constructive Criticism Always Appreciated

With All My Heart Masterlist

“How is she, really? No bullshit?” Gavin questioned Emma. You’d been driving for awhile and had stopped for a few breaks for you to get out and stretch your legs. Gavin and Emma both thought you were asleep in the backseat when truthfully you were hovering in the space between awake and asleep.

“She’s…coping.” Emma finally answered, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “The whole heart infection and then replacing the valve, it took a lot out of her. For awhile I was afraid she was spiraling, but Jensen – Gavin he really pulled her out. He kept her head above water.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin glanced at Emma quickly, putting his eyes straight back on the road, but he was clearly intrigued by what she meant.

“Well, not only did he keep her out of the hospital by paying for all the medical equipment at his house so she could get all the antibiotics at home –“

“He did that?” Gavin interrupted. “Like they were barely even together then and he just did that?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “It was never a question. But beyond that stuff, every time she started feeling down he brought her back up. He’d take her out to do something; he’d bring people to her. He just did every single thing he could do to make her not feel like an invalid. Gav, he’d give her the world. She wouldn’t even have to ask. Plus, Jared and Gen are great too. She didn’t just get Jensen she got an entire family.”

Gavin gripped the wheel firmly in one hand, tensing his fist and letting it go, letting out a deep sigh. “What?” Emma asked. “What could possibly bother you about that?”

“Nothing.” Gavin said, hesitating and clenching his jaw. “I just…I should’ve been here for her and I wasn’t.” Gavin hesitated again, Emma’s silence telling him he needed to keep going, to explain himself. “I’m not in love with her if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not like that. I didn’t come here to fight with Jensen over her. I just – I promised her once I’d always be there for her and then I joined the Marines and I fucked that up. She needed me and I wasn’t here. How many guys walked all over her because I wasn’t here? She could’ve died and I wasn’t here.”

“I don’t blame you.” You murmured sleepily from the back seat. “It was your job. It’s not like you didn’t wanna be here. You can’t just drop everything for me, Gavin.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Gavin sighed. “Thought you were asleep.”

“She’s right, though.” Emma said, reaching out and grabbing her brother’s free hand. “I know you think protecting us is your job but we’re big girls and we make our own decisions.”

“I chose to date all those shitty men because I didn’t think I deserved better. That’s not on you. It’s not your job to fix me. And my heart? You couldn’t have fixed that. Nobody could’ve. Jensen being there was just the right place, right time.” Gavin nodded his understanding, swallowing thickly and going silent for a time, staring at the open road. You really wished in that moment you had the ability to read thoughts, not knowing what he was thinking was killing you.

“Get some rest, Pipsqueak.” Gavin said, giving you a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “We should be there by morning.”

The next morning when you arrived at the hotel, Jared met you immediately in the parking garage, trying to keep you hidden. You could barely help yourself, throwing yourself directly into his chest and burying your face in his shirt as soon as you saw him. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, gorgeous.” Jared laughed, hugging you so tight you could barely breathe. “Not as much as Jensen though, he’s driving me crazy. I’m so glad you’re here. You look so much healthier.” Jared’s eyes made their way toward Gavin who cleared his throat behind you.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” You abruptly pulled away, turning and pulling Jared toward Gavin. “Jared this is Gavin, Emma’s brother. Gavin, this is Jared.”

Jared extended his hand and Gavin took it right away with a smile, something you were grateful for. A part of you was afraid they wouldn’t get along but they seemed to be just fine, and if he got along with Jared chances of him liking Jensen were far higher. “Thank you.” Gavin said unexpectedly. “For you know, giving her a job when her fuckstick of an old boss fired her for being sick. And being so understanding of everything and being there for her as a brother when I couldn’t be. You seem like a good guy.”

“Y/N’s family now.” Jared pulled you in to a side hug, kissing the top of your head. “Whatever she needs, she gets.”

“Told you.” Emma smirked, leaning against Gavin’s SUV. “Are we gonna take this stuff inside to an actual room or are we gonna stay in the parking garage forever?”

“I might’ve managed to snag Emma and Gavin a 2 room suite.” Jared shrugged, holding out the keys. “Y/N/N you can shove your stuff in there for now but I don’t think you’ll be sleeping there tonight.”

“No.” You laughed and shook your head. “God I hope not.” Jared moved away from you and started to help Gavin with the bags, easily draping some over his shoulders and pulling your rolling suitcase behind him. “Jared, I can help. At least give me the little one before you throw your back out.”

“No.” Jared scoffed. “They’re not heavy, I got em. Just shut up and walk with me. We gotta talk about how this surprise is gonna go.”

“Ok, so how is it gonna go?” Jared held the door for everyone, letting you all inside. Emma and Gavin walked ahead of you, having their own sibling conversation while Jared and you trailed behind, planning exactly how to surprise Jensen. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, later today we’re filming this like, interview game thing.” Jared explained. “It’s out on a boat kinda nearby. I was thinking you could do it then unless you wanna wait until the party tonight.”

“No!” You interjected, perhaps a little bit too enthusiastically. “I can’t wait that long. I need to see him.” Jared laughed at you, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head.

“You really miss him, huh? God you might be worse than him. You’re pretty much all he talks about.” Jared sighed. “I’ve never seen him so damn love struck. It’s disgusting, really. What have you done to him?”

You punched Jared hard in the shoulder, making him recoil from you with a loud grunt. “You’re so mean!”

“You love me.”

“Maybe.” You sighed in defeat, catching up to Emma and Gavin at the elevator. “I’ll never admit to it.”

Once you got to the hotel room you quickly showered and changed clothes, practically skipping back into the living area where Emma and Gavin had ordered food. “Awesome, I’m starving.” You took a seat and dug into the waffles and fruit, moaning at the taste and shoving more in your mouth like you hadn’t eaten in days. Gavin and Emma both glared at you in a mixture of annoyance and humor and you shrugged your shoulders, swallowing your food. “What? I’ve been forced to eat heart healthy and this is fucking delicious. I’m allowed to love my food.”

“You can love it without making obscene sex noises with it.” Emma deadpanned, staring at you. “Save that for Jensen.” You launched a strawberry at her, hitting her dead center in the forehead. “Hey!”

“Fucking children.” Gavin chuckled with his mouth full.

“Well, this has been great but I gotta get going.” You quickly cleaned up the mess you had made and grabbed your bag, making your way toward the door when Gavin jumped up.

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m driving you. I wanna meet him.” Gavin protested. “You’re not driving yourself.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” You rested your hands on Gavin’s biceps, speaking to him slowly and carefully. “Jared got the network to send a driver. You need to sleep you drove for almost a day. Emma’s staying to make sure you actually get some rest. You’ll get to meet him later.”

“No, Y/N, I’m fine.” Gavin argued. “I wanna meet him.”

“You, Gavin Bailey, are exhausted.” You shoved him toward the bedroom, pushing him and walking him back toward the bed. “You, Gavin Bailey, are going to get some sleep.”

“Alright, bossy.” Gavin sighed and finally gave in, sitting down on the bed and kicking off his boots. “I’ll take a nap for you, but I want you to tell me you got to where you’re going without an issue. Send me a text, I’ll hear it.”

“You’ll be asleep, genius.” You sassed back.

“I’ll hear it. Light sleeper.” Gavin said softly. “I kinda had to be…over there.” You saw his eyes glaze over for a split second before touching his shoulder, calling him back.

“She’ll send you a text.” Emma stepped in; apparently knowing full well her brother needed rest and wasn’t going to get it without being forced. “Now let her go.”

You kissed Gavin’s cheek and bounded for the door, a newfound pep in your step. “I’ll be back later! With Jensen! Get some sleep, both of you!”

Your nervous energy built up in the car on the way to the boat Jensen was and now that you were there, in the same space as him, so close but yet so far, you felt like you might implode. You could hear him laughing, you could smell his soap and cologne, but he had no idea you were anywhere other than where you’d told him you were.

Misha, Jared, and Jensen were seated in front of a camera, playing a quiz game about how well they knew each other. They had white boards and the questions just lent themselves to jokes. You were trying not to laugh at them, knowing Jensen would hear you and recognize your laugh right away. Jared kept casting small glances your way, knowing exactly where you were but unable to see you.

“Who would survive a zombie apocalypse?” Jensen read the next question and held his white board close to his chest, thinking to himself.

Jared and Misha used the question to make fun of each other, you expected nothing less. Jensen picked Jeffrey Dean Morgan then immediately pulled his white board back and shook his head. “Can I change my answer?” Jensen asked and began furiously erasing and rewriting, turning the board back around. “I choose Y/N.” He giggled. “She’ll kill me when she sees this but part of her heart is bionic now so I don’t think she can become a zombie.”

Jared threw his head back and cackled along with Misha. “You’re right. She’s totally gonna kill you.” Jared laughed. “You’re lucky she can take a joke.”

“Is it really a joke if he’s right, though? I’m zombie proof.” You walked out from the shadows, making your presence known. Jensen’s head whipped around and he shot out of his chair, running forward and grabbing you gently around the waist.

“What are you –“ You didn’t let him finish, too eager to see him, to feel him. You grabbed around his neck, pulling him down and slamming your lips against his, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, not giving a damn who was watching.

“We should probably end the live stream there.” Misha laughed. “Before this becomes pornographic.”

Jensen broke the kiss long before you were ready and you chased his lips forward, eliciting a giggle from him. “How did you get here? You’re not allowed to fly yet.”

“Gavin and Emma drove for like a day and a half.” Your smile was so big it was practically lighting up the room and Jensen’s was just as big. His hands moved up your back, pulling you into his chest. “Jared set us up at the hotel. Got me a driver here.”

“You knew?” Jensen spun around, glaring at Jared. “And you managed not to say anything?”

“I told Misha.” Jared shrugged.

“You’re both assholes.” Jensen said and you laughed, cuddling closer to him.

“Be nice, Jens.” You admonished, slapping his chest. “They helped get me here, they didn’t have to, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He grumbled, nuzzling his nose in your hair. “Best surprise ever. How are you? Do you need anything?”

You nodded your head yes and yanked on his cream colored jacket, pulling him back down to you and crashing your lips to his, practically growling when they connected. You couldn’t have pulled yourself any closer to him if you tried, but damn if you didn’t try. His warmth, his touch, his smell, you needed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing there in his arms again.

“Get a room.” Jared and Misha complained in unison. “A hotel room not this one.” Misha added.

“They’re right. We should go back to my room.” Jensen said against your lips.

“Don’t you have photo shoots and big time celebrity stuff to do?” You questioned, making him laugh and squeeze you tighter.

“I have time before I have to do all the big time celebrity stuff.” He murmured. You squealed in surprise when he swept you completely off your feet, carrying you toward the dock.

The two of you barely made it back into the hotel room and slammed the door shut before clothes started flying in every direction. The giggle that escaped your lips was almost embarrassing as the two of you clumsily kissed and yanked at each other’s clothes, bumping into furniture and walls on your way into the bedroom where you fell naked into the king size bed with Jensen hovering over you, staring down at you with nothing but love.

“Beautiful.” Jensen murmured, trailing kisses down your neck.

“No.” You mumbled, moving your hands to cover your scar, suddenly acutely aware of it and self-conscious. In your haste to get to Jensen, you’d forgotten about it entirely but now you didn’t want him to see your deformed body.

“Don’t.” Jensen grabbed your hands easily in one of his, sitting back and pulling them away from your chest. He pinned them above your head and brought his lips down to your scar, kissing a path down it setting your skin ablaze. “This is beautiful.” He mumbled, each word punctuated by another kiss. Your back arched up into him as you watched him, not seeing a shred of dishonesty on his face. You believed him. He found you beautiful, despite the hideous purple, jagged scar on your chest.

“Need you.” You whined, forcing your hands free and grabbing his hair, yanking him back to your face, kissing him deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his length bump your entrance and bucked your hips against him. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Jensen rested his forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. “We haven’t…I mean not since…are you sure you’re healed enough?”

“We can go slow.” You nodded. “But I’m fine. I just…Jensen I need you.”

That was all Jensen needed to hear. You bit your lip, moaning as he slowly pushed into you, stretching you slowly until he finally bottomed out. “Fuck.” Jensen groaned.

He stayed still, his weight comfortable on top of you, staring at your face, searching for any sign of discomfort from you. “You can move.” You breathed, cupping his face in one hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone.

He moved torturously slow, his cock dragging against you igniting a fire within you. Your hips matched his, lazily, thrust for thrust. He was still gazing down on your face, looking at you longingly. No man had ever looked at you the way Jensen did, and that act alone was enough to almost make you come undone.

Jensen’s hand was suddenly in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, while he nipped and sucked his way down. His other hand found its way to your breast, kneading it in his strong hand. You clenched your eyes shut, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your nails into his shoulder blades, panting and gasping his name, your heart pounding against your chest.

“I’m gonna –“

“I know.” Jensen coaxed, running his fingers through your hair to calm you. He wanted to do more, to completely ravage you, but he didn’t want to overwhelm or hurt you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

The fire inside you erupted with Jensen’s name on your lips and you clenched around him as he came inside you, peppering kisses over every inch of skin he could find. This wasn’t about just sex. This was a new stage in your relationship. Yes, you’d both said “I love you” and meant it before, but this was new, different, with much deeper meaning.

He started to roll of you and you pulled him back, wanting his weight on top of you, loving the added security it brought. His forehead came to rest against yours as you both caught your breath and he nuzzled his nose against yours, kissing you quickly and gently. You tried to stop the tears from building in your eyes, but you couldn’t, and one escaped despite your best efforts. “Are you alright?” His eyes showed nothing but genuine love and concern, just like always. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “God, no. I just – I love you so much and you are so much more than I deserve.” You murmured, reaching your hand up to trace the contours of his face.

“You deserve everything.” Jensen smiled, kissing the tears away and rolling to his side, bringing you with him, never breaking apart. “I’m the one who got lucky. I got you. Someone who didn’t care about me being a celebrity and just wanted me for me. Do you know how hard that is to find?” You shook your head, your eyes starting to flutter shut as you cuddled into Jensen’s neck, inhaling his scent that you’d missed so much.

“I need you to stop thinkin’ you don’t deserve me, Y/N. Because you do.” Jensen said lowly, rubbing circles on your bare back. “I’ll remind you all day every day if I have to.” Jensen shifted, resting his head on your chest. “You’re going to the photo shoot with me in a few hours, right? And the after party?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” You slurred, letting sleep overtake you. Jensen kissed your scar again and reached for the alarm clock on the bedside table; setting it so you wouldn’t be late for the magazine’s photo shoot. He didn’t dare get out of bed and risk waking you to find his phone which was somewhere in his pants, strewn around the hotel room.

Once the alarm was set he positioned his ear back over your heart, letting the steady rhythm of your heart slowing down as you drifted more deeply asleep lull him to sleep.

With All My Heart - Part 14 (coming soonish)

Jensen Tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @adaliamalfoy @aiaranradnay @akshi8278 @apeshit7x @ariannnawinchester @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @babydanixox @bakabozza @beacon-hills-chance-harbor @betterlattethennever @blacktithe7 @bloodysideofhell @boredoutofmymindstuff @bringmesomepie56 @capsofwinchesters @captainradicalpassion @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chickenmcsade @clarewinchester @d-s-winchester @dancingalone21 @deanswhiskeyveins @deanwinchesterisamazing @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @docharleythegeekqueen @dragontearsandunicornfears @dreamsfromthebunker @duckieburns @duherica @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emohermione @emoryhemsworth @escabell @evansrogerskitten @evilskank-inthemegacoven @fangirlingfanatic2442 @feelmyroarrrr

@gabavaldman @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @growningupgeek @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @itseverythingilike

@iwantthedean @iwriteshortstuff @jalove-wecallhimdean @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @jayankles @jensen-gal @jensen-jarpad @jojo-nz @jotink78 @kalliravenne @kgbrenner @kittenofdoomage @kittycat-cas @lenaabs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @maddieburcham1 @mayasmedberg @meeshw777 @mogaruke @my-supernatural-dreams @nichelle-my-belle @not-moose-one-shots @nothingeverdies @notmoose45 @outerxorbit @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @riakie @riversong-sam @rlawson418 @ruprecht0420 @sammysflannels @sandlee44 @silver-and-green @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @smoothdogsgirl @soobi89 @spn-fan-girl-173 @spontaneousam @starswirlblitz @stilinski15 @summoningsupernatural @supernatural-girl97 @supernatural-jackles @supernatural0826 @taste-of-dean @tattooedluci @teepartyy @the-angels-stole-the-tardis @thelastxgoodthing @thereisnolumos @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @waywardjoy @whit85-blog @winchestdiaries @winchester-writes @winchesterprincessbride @winchesters-favorite-girl @yellowtheremarvelfan @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#with all my heart #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #reader x jensen #reader x jensen ackles #RPF #actor fic #jensen ackles fic #supernatural #spn #spn fic

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