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ghostietea · 3 years

Note

I would love to hear those Akito headcanons! (Also your Akito metas are amazing :D)

Thanks!!! As requested, here's some of the Akito headcanons from my masterdoc:

-Akito slowly and intimidatingly slinks around the estate because she is a powerful and scary God certainly not because she will pass out if she stands up too fast

-at the end of Furuba Akito should have permanently ended things with Shigure and then walked around acting like a 50 year old twice divorced woman even though she's like around 20 and they weren't even formally dating. Ex: Akito, wearing a huge vintage fur coat she found in some closet over slacks and a blouse, taking a sip from a glass filled with a beverage comprised of like one drop of wine and a bunch of cranberry juice: "Just kicked my ex out for the second time. Good riddance, you see-"

-Stole an eyeliner from Kagura one time when she was like 13 and promptly stabbed herself in the eye with it on accident and blamed Kagura.

-Can't even use a microwave. Don't let her cook your kitchen will burn

-When she was a baby Ayame tried to recreate the presentation of Simba with her and dropped her on the floor

-The one time she broke a bone it was because she got pissed off and punched a wall really hard

-Didn't like lit class. Likes reading but hates things like "effort" and "critical thinking." Payed someone else to write the essays she mailed in to school.

-Lesbian but doesn't know what a gay is. Doesn't think anyone suspects anything when she's climbing all over Kureno and Shigure not just because she's generally clingy but because she doesn't know gay people exist. Someone (Hana) has to stage an intervention to inform her that she is gay years in the future after months of everyone having to listen to her talk about how pretty and neat girls are as part of what she thinks is her unlearning being a raging misogynist.

-Demigirl she/they nonbinary but doesn't figure it out for years after she stopped presenting as a man

-Gets anxious about how clumsy Tohru is because of… that incident. One time saw Tohru fall down a flight of stairs and panicked and now she links arms with her anytime they go on stairs.

-Actually sorta likes dressing androgynously when it's her choice. Chronic dressing like a gay person syndrome.

-Didn't keep her hair long. Cut it off after like a month in a moment of passion with a pair of kitchen shears and then had to reluctantly slink off to have someone make it look presentable.

-Secretly loves plushies but is too embarrassed to buy them for herself. Slowly acquires a hoard postcanon and can bury herself in a pile of them.

-She's very light and can be easily picked up and carried around by any of her friends that want to

-Googled "is hitting people bad?"

-Hana can call Akki over by pspspsps ing at her like a cat and Akki HATES it but still falls for it every time

-Doesn't get anything more than a flip phone and work laptop until postcanon. Generally REALLY sheltered, would get addicted to the first video game she got to play. Probably Animal Crossing.

-Secretly read every book of Warriors as a middleschooler but it became unsecret when she got into a fight with Haru about who could do a better human!Scourge cosplay.

-As an adult Kisa is taller than her.

-Mega lightweight with pretty much everything. Will either LOOSE IT and have an anxious breakdown or space out staring at the wall for 3 hours if she drinks coffee. Would probably be strongly affected by too much sugar. Strictly prohibited from drinking alcohol.

-As a child tried to convince the boys that the zodiac girls all had cooties

-Either can't swim or taught herself in her stupidly large tub.

-Sensory issues, does badly with bright lights, loud/annoying noises, non neutral temperatures, ect.

-Has perpetual cold icicle hands

-Crashes through several rebellious teen phases as an adult trying to find herself postcanon. Bleaches her hair and dyes it some unnatural color in the bathroom, immediately regrets it and dyes it black again. Nobody ever knows.

-One time ate a leaf because she was bored and has -10 impulse control

-Makes other people order for her at restaurants

-Postcanon she has a pencil box FULL of animal shaped squishies Tohru gave her

-Was one of those kids that got A's without studying (also canonically homeschooled and ik that crowd)

-Starts painting her nails black after she meets Hana. Likes the symbolism

-Called Hatori her brother by accident once and they both silently agreed to never speak of it

-Rin anonymously mailed her the "I'm sorry women" hat

-Realized she had almost no interests and started ping ponging between hobbies as she tried and then ditched them upon not being immediately amazing at said hobbies. Eventually is given encouragement to keep on trying instead of giving up because she believes she won't be good at it. One of the things she liked was doing stuff with flowers, but she initially ditched it after she killed all the plants she tried to take care of (@ Akki, lying flopped down on a windowsill: Why is everything I touch destroyed… @ her dead flowers: *are dead*). She goes back to it though when she realizes accidentally offing some plants is not a universal statement about her morality and eventually figures it out. Is told to get a personal creative project to work on by her therapist and she sits in the garden and makes a little journal with entries about the flowers and their symbolism complete with illustrations.

-Connected, has a weirdly large amount of flower symbolism and lore memorised postcanon because of this (@ Tohru: wow a pretty flower! @ Akito: Ah yes, the poppy, did you know it symbolizes death, dreams, an eternal sleep… though is an eternal sleep not as good as death? Are dreams a small taste of what's to come? Also did you know they contain opi-" @ Tohru, confused but likes listening to her friends talking about their interests: 😶)

-Would probably do good with a pet cat for emotional support once she gets over the Sohma biases and can be trusted to take care of an animal.

-The Sohma mansion is always out of hot water because Akito uses it all taking hour long angst baths in the giant tub.

-Uo+Hana+Akito have a sleepover were Uo and Akito are talking and are just like wow we both sure had a thing for the same dude because of varied ulterior reasons haha that certainly doesn't mean anything and Hana just sits there wanting to bang their stupid heads together like rocks

-Due to general isolation and probable lack of exposure to "memery," I believe that Akito Sohma would fall for the "updog" trap, in this essay I will-

-Akito full on doesn't remember how old she is. Someone's just like "how old r u?" and she's just like (internally) "How long have I endured existing in this wretched world? Hmm" *sweats in the passage of time doesn't seem real when you dissociate in a dark room all day*. Nobody else remembers exactly either. (That's why Shigure put an "I think" on the end of his "he's in his 20's" lol) Hatori can remember if he needs to but that's because he has her medical records. One time one of the younger juuni is like how old is he??? And they talk for 30 minutes and only come up with "has to be close-ish to but older than Yuki and Kagura. Didn't go to school. Was he born or does he just exist???

-Akki would be that one person that's always cold and has to be lent sweaters by their friends when they're out. You go into Akki's room postcanon and there's a pile of sweaters on a chair that where SUPPOSED to be washed and returned but just haven't been yet

-If Akito was an animal she'd be a cat... claws, dramatically lounging around all day, climbing all over people, attacking and then being like??? But I want love??? I did nothing wrong??? She's got the vibes.

#ask #akito sohma #hc #fruits basket #thanks for enabling me lol

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

Speak of the Devil (S2, E2)

Damn. I love this show.

As usual, my time stamped SPOILER FULL thoughts are below.

As always, I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if talk about depression/mania/suicidal ideation is going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

0:14 - Hector’s back!! hahaha :)

0:40 - So Martin is worried about Malcolm.....he could stop manipulating Malcolm if he’s so worried. That would make Malcolm feel slightly better at least.

0:50 - What. A. Boss. That ambush was gorgeously executed *chef’s kiss*. haha how many times do you think Jessica has orchestrated this type of ambush on one of her children?

0:52 - I love this outfit on Malcolm. Seriously - why is it sooo attractive when he’s not wearing a tie?

0:55 -........he’s not seeing Gabrielle....but but he had a lollipop last episode. Am I supposed to believe he buys his own lollipops? Maybe he bought some to throw the team off the scent? UGH. MALCOLM, SWEETHEART, GO BACK TO THERAPY. YOU’RE IN CRISIS. ....wait. I bet you he’s not seeing Gabrielle because she knows when he’s lying. He’s probably scared that he’ll end up telling her about Endicott. And I’m pretty sure that legally Gabrielle can’t keep a crime a secret regardless of doctor-patient confidentiality.

1:02 - .....Malcolm didn’t know that he wasn’t paying his own therapy bills? WHO DID HE THINK WAS PAYING THEM?!?! Damn. Rich people, am I right?

1:10 - You ever wonder how many therapists Malcolm saw as a kid before they found Gabrielle? Just me? Cool.

1:15 - OMG. “Sexual in nature”?!?! Calm down Jess. He’s a grown ass man and even if it was sexual Malcolm sure as hell wouldn’t want to talk to his mother about his sex life.

1:19 - Oh so now both of your kids are in a “good place”? Martin, less than a minute ago you were ‘worried’ about Malcolm. Further proof that Martin is a liar and we can’t believe anything he says. Ever.

1:43 - Tom Payne’s physical acting during this interaction with Jessica is incredible. Ugh. Honestly, can I give him an Emmy myself? Look. Look at his face when he says, “You wouldn’t understand.” This is a teenage boy trying to hide something from his mom and is terrified that she’ll see the lie if he makes eye-contact. <3

1:45 - You know, Jessica really isn’t a perfect mother (especially to Ainsley) but she does care about her kids. I love her for it. She actually shows more concern for her adult children than most parents with adult children that I’ve been exposed to.

2:08 - I can’t decide if I love the music that was playing through that scene or if it’s just super cheesy and cringey. I mean “I did a bad bad thing” right as the title page rolls out? Kind of amazing but also super dorky.

2:13 - So Mr. David hears this whole conversation. Malcolm talking about his guilt, Martin calling Malcolm a hero, and Malcolm saying that the only person he can talk to about his problems is Martin. Sooooo either

Mr. David is being paid very well to keep quiet on Whitly family drama,

Mr. David stopped listening years ago.

Mr. David is a moron who can’t connect the dots. OR

Mr. David is going to blow this whistle on this fiasco to Jessica soon. I mean, he called her in the first season when Malcolm started visiting Martin. Mr. David has Jessica’s number...and I have a hunch that Mr. David cares about Malcolm. He’s watched Malcolm grow up into a troubled, bizarre, but very sweet man.

2:14 - “Why are you calling me?” Malcolm sounds upset that Martin is calling him; so why pick up the phone? I mean, I guess Martin will call him back incessantly but still.

2:19 - Malcolm’s completely honest version of how he’s doing mentally is heartbreaking. He “doesn’t recognize himself anymore”? Ugh. Baby. My heart is shattering. Someone hug him. OR TAKE HIM TO GABRIELLE.

2:30 - There is a moment when Malcolm says, “narcissistic psychopath” where is genuinely sounds like he’s about to have a complete breakdown. This boy is on the verge. My whump heart loves it and it makes me evil.

2:56 - aaannnnnnd there’s Malcolm on the verge of tears. This boy. Ugh. <3

3:00 - “It’s not going away Malcolm. The guilt. Take it from me.” Sooooo Mr. David isn’t a moron right? He’s going to connect the dots. He has to. ISTG Jessica keeps saying “No more lies” in the promos because Mr. David told her what he overheard.

3:06 - And that is the face of a boy who is dead on the inside. Seriously, he’s spent his whole life trying to convince himself (and others) that he is nothing like his father. But here we are - all his fears confirmed and it’s killed him.

3:20 - “Is this what you used?” Ainsley is talking about how Malcolm disposed of the body right? Because last episode she thanked Malcolm for covering for her. Sooooo she clearly knows that she killed Endicott even if she doesn’t remember it. I mean, she was covered in blood - Malcolm wasn’t.

3:23.- OMG. Endicott was killed with the Milton family silver. hahahaha why is that so funny to me?

3:43 - Just how big is that gap in her memory? I’d truly like to know. When did she check out, when did she check in, and are those times different than what she’s letting Malcolm believe?

3:55 - Yeah - I still want to know why she moved in. COVID? Is she afraid she’s going to do something else murdery? Because surely, living in the house where you know you killed someone can’t be pleasant. Or easy. Unless of course Ainsley is more like Martin than we’d like to believe.

4:09 - hahahahaha I am living for Malcolm’s facial response to Jessica saying, “I am in charge of boxes.”

4:22 - hahahaha Malcolm and Ainsley teasing Jessica about Gil is so precious. I love it. I wish they were always that happy.

4:40 - Look at Malcolm’s face when he says, “You and a certain Lieutenant”. He’s practically giddy. Whether that’s because he’s thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease his mother OR because he’s always wanted Jessica and Gil to be together in that way that many children who grow up in single parent homes hope for a fairytale parental ending. My guess - a mixture of both.

4:45 - Ainsley looks delighted at the idea of Gil/Jessica too. I assume it’s because she loves the gossip and the opportunity to tease Jessica. BUT I also wonder what Ainsley’s relationship with Gil is like? Do they have one?

4:58 - “Does he let you wear his turtlenecks?” OMG. bahahahaha comedic GOLD.

5:10 - THIS. The evolution of JT and Malcolm’s friendship is everything. 10/10 would recommend. So sweet. LOOK AT HOW CONCERNED MALCOLM IS. <3 <3 Malcolm’s been calling JT?!?! UGH. This warms my cold dead heart.

5:20 - JT is a bad liar. This dude is not okay.

5:27 - “When I say I’m fine, I’m always lying.” .....we already knew this but it hurts to hear Malcolm say is so nonchalantly.

5:32 - JT does the sign of the cross....so he’s definitely religious.

5:56 - “Holy...” “Watch it Bright.” hahaha how much do you want to bet that Gil took Malcolm to church once (1) time as a kid. It went so poorly that Gil never brought him again. Malcolm was probably questioning the priest and generally just asking a lot of “why” questions.

6:15 - Gil is so done with the Edrisa+Bright banter. Look at his face - he’s just sooo tired. .....is Gil particularly cranky this episode because Jessica is dodging his phone calls?

6:23 - Malcolm looks pensive as soon as Gil mentions that the Father had been with the church for 30 years. Why?

6:56 - I’m not going to lie. I’m really getting tired of the crap Dani (and even Gil in this episode - is he mad at Malcolm for avoiding him when he was hospital-bound? Or just cranky because Jessica isn’t calling him back?) are giving Malcolm. He’s asking a question relevant to the case. Sure - it’s not an easy question to ask but last season they wouldn’t have glared at him for asking it. I understand that Dani is upset with Malcolm for lying to her and she probably thinks he knows something about how Endicott died. I get it - Malcolm screwed up. BUT Dani’s reaction is so over the top. I understand where she’s coming from - she has trust issues. That doesn’t give her the right to treat him like garbage for the rest of his life. It’s been literally MONTHS.

7:11 - “That’s not a no.”....Damn, he looks cute when he says that.

7:30 - I LOVE that Malcolm knows so much about the Bible and Catholicism even though he’s not a believer. It makes me think he investigated a ton of religions as a kid - looking for relief from his trauma. I respect that he did the research and I respect that he doesn’t (openly at least) think other people are moronic/short-sighted for believing in God(s).

7:56 - I’ll be honest, my first reaction to Jonah was: “Why does he look and sound like he’s dying?”

8:03 - “Catholic.” haha I love some good religious comedy. BUT AGAIN GIL, THAT GLARE IS SO NOT NECESSARY. That wasn’t a ‘warning - you’re being insensitive’ glare. That was a ‘I’m your father and you’re in sooo much trouble’ glare. I love Gil with my whole heart but everyone is being a dick to Malcolm today (minus JT and Edrisa) and I’m done with it. Malcolm’s fragile mental state can’t handle it. Be nice to my boy.

8:35 - Is this Gil’s church?!? Why does he know all the church staff by name? He either attends this church or someone gave him an amazing briefing before he got to the church.

9:34 - At least Gil knows something is wrong with Malcolm.

9:41 - What? That’s it? No. Gil - press on. Don’t accept Malcolm’s “I’m fine”.

10:18 - I wish this scene didn’t end with Gil’s look of disbelief and concern. I wish we got to see Gil tell Malcolm not to go see Martin. I wish we got a more concrete papa!Gil moment.

10:42 - Something about the fact that Martin is tethered to a pole like a tether-ball is hilarious to me. Also - why are some prisoners not tied up? The inmate talking to Friar Pete has no rope.

10:52 - Ugh. When exactly did Martin give Malcolm “The Talk”? Like how old was Malcolm? How traumatic was it? Ugh. It’s very upsetting to remember that Martin acted like a good father to Malcolm for a good portion of the first 10 years of Malcolm’s life. It really doesn’t help Malcolm’s PTSD.

11:00 - That’s right Malcolm. Don’t let Martin ramble. Stand your ground. <3 So proud of Malcolm <3

11:15 - Listen to the way Malcolm says, “Who is that?”. He’s some combination of resigned and scared. I love it.

11:33 - Friar Pete is so creepy. The way he just walks up to Malcolm until his rope goes taught?! UGH. Poor Malcolm looks so done with this whole situation. He’s rolling his eyes and grimacing at various points throughout this scene. He has some major sass right now and I’m here for it.

11:41 - “You two should talk!” ....Is this Martin’s really eff-ed up way of trying to help Malcolm with his guilt about Endicott? I don’t like it.....and Malcolm’s face tells me he doesn’t either.

12:48 - Is that true? Can churches really not exorcise people without medical permission in the current day? I thought exorcisms were just banned? IDK - I’m a Christian, my branch of faith doesn’t do exorcisms.

13:33 - YES! A JT AND MALCOLM SCENE. <3 <3 I’m unreasonably happy about this.

13:45 - sooooooo is this Norman’s real home and his real mother? The first time I watched it I thought it was some sort of weird catholic-inpatient facility but now I’m not sure.

15:10 - Ok. I can’t hold back anymore. Malcolm’s shoes. They. Are. Awful. I understand - Tom Payne is a short guy. He probably needs heels to fit in the shot. I’m not mad about the heels. I’m made that they gave him very very ugly heels. Is it just me? These shoes are hideous.

15:14 - “Hi Norman.” .....Malcolm is so soft here and I’m in love with it. My cold dead heart is melting. Also JT’s freaked-out look in this scene is everything.

15:25 - There’s something about the way Malcolm says “Good.” that just hits me really hard. It’s beautiful. He sounds and looks a little scared but he’s also really calm and professional and it’s just...*chef’s kiss*.

16:44 - “He’s clearly mentally-ill.” I love this. I love that Malcolm is defending the person with a severe mental illness because he doesn’t have any proof that Norman committed a crime. It also breaks my heart. Makes me think of how many people dismissed or judged Malcolm poorly throughout his life because Malcolm’s mental illnesses. Even though they weren’t quite as extreme as Norman’s.

16:54 - I love this. JT is telling Malcolm to stay behind the line partially out of fear (because this whole Norman situation is clearly freaking JT out big time) but also partially because he just cares about Malcolm. I love their friendship and it’s evolution. SO. MUCH.

17:21 - Is there a mirror of something? How the hell did Norman know that Malcolm crossed the salt? Was it the slight creaking in the floorboards?

17:54 - Dude. Is every suspect this season going to accuse Malcolm of being a killer? First Boyd, now Norman. This is not helping Malcolm’s mental state or his ability to hide his guilt from the team.

18:30 - “Malcolm Bright. Always crossing the line.” lol. I love JT here. He’s half-teasing Malcolm. Makes me think that he subtly trying to tell Malcolm that he isn’t the killer Norman says that he is.

18:44 - I DO NOT LIKE THIS. LOOK AT HOW SCARED MALCOLM IS WHEN HE WALKS INTO THE ROOM. A ROOM WITH GIL AND DANI IN IT. THIS IS NOT RIGHT. HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF THEM.

19:00 - “What the hell do you have?”. Wow. Okay. No. I love Gil. I understand that he loves Malcolm like a son and he’s scared for Malcolm and Malcolm’s mental state. But this question is so over the line. Gil knows damn well what Malcolm’s mental diagnoses are. It feels like he’s accusing Malcolm of being crazy. I don’t like it.

19:17 - “Are you serious?” Ok. Dani really needs to start being nicer to Malcolm. She doesn’t have to trust him but some professional civility would be great. I really don’t like how hard the writers are pushing this tension between Dani and Malcolm. It makes Dani look so immature. An adult would be pissed but get over the anger after literal months. The relationship wouldn’t necessarily be the same but it sure as hell wouldn’t be this hostile.

19:40 - Something about Malcolm being the calmest person in the room is both comforting and upsetting.

19:55 - “My father gave it to me.”.....that’s so not going to help Gil’s concern about Malcolm.

20:50 - This is cute. We don’t get to see enough of Jessica and Ainsley acting like a semi-normal mother-daughter duo. I love it.

21:00 - “We are WASPs. It’s. What. We. Do.” OMG. Hahahaha

21:05 - I love how invested Ainsley is in the Gil/Jessica relationship. It’s so clear that she wants her Mom to be happy and I love it. It also makes me wonder if she ever wanted Gil to be her real dad as a kid.

21:30 - Damn. This episode is creepy.

21:45 - First clue that this is a dream - Malcolm says “we” but he’s alone.

21:57 - ...are Nuns allowed to paint their nails? #GenuineQuestion

22:14 - Not going to lie. This made me cry. I relate to Malcolm so damn much here. I’ve had a severe anxiety disorder for as long as I can remember (seriously I saw my first therapist - against my will - at the age of 4). I’ve also had chronic depression for almost as long. AND I’m a christian. I can’t tell you how many times other christians have told me to “cast my worries on the Lord” and “be free” of my pain. Or that I don’t really believe in God because I’m still suffering so visibly. The problem is - I don’t know if I want to be free. I’ve had these issues so long that I’m genuinely not sure who I’d be without them. It’s how I define myself. It affects every aspect of my personality. I feel like Malcolm might feel the same way - he doesn’t want to suffer anymore but he’s afraid of finding out who he is without the pain.

22:17 - Okay. So there’s Gil’s voice. So Gil+ Malcolm = “we”. As though I’m supposed to believe that Gil would split up with Malcolm when they’re looking for a nun, who isn’t even a suspect, at a church. Nah. I don’t buy it. This is clearly a dream.

22:30 - “You have to tell them what you did.”...and then we see the knife. Does this mean Malcolm is slowly convincing himself that he killed Endicott. Not Ainsley? Either way - I agree with nightmare-Ainsley. The team loves Malcolm but they’re also detectives. They’ll figure out what happened. And when they do - yikes.

22:46 - I hate this. All season suspects have been calling Malcolm evil. Martin has been calling Malcolm a “hero”. Malcolm’s guilt is eating him alive. Simultaneously, the people who are supposed to trust and care about him (Dani, Gil, the precinct, Jessica) have all shown signs of doubting him. Dani alone has pointed a gun at Malcolm’s head. Now she’s wearing body armour? AND LOOK AT THE OTHER COPS. THEY ALL HAVE THEIR HANDS ON THEIR GUNS AS THOUGH MALCOLM IS A CRIMINAL. A THREAT. DANGEROUS. This is very bad for Malcolm’s mental health......God, the whump-whore in me hopes he has a major panic attack or something this season.

23:23 - I love this scene. This is the papa!Gil content I’m here for.

23:51 - JT expressing fear and concern for his unborn child makes my heart grow several sizes. Look at his puppy dog eyes here? Ugh. So precious. This whole JT arc is heartbreaking and beautiful. I love it.

24:15 - Sooooo JT knows about Jessica right? He’s a detective and a husband. He so knows. hahaha this is so cute.

24:19 - Gil. You. Are. A. Liar......and you’ve been really grumpy this episode but I’m going to forgive you because I love you.

24:28 - GIL. You’ve waited 20 years. How much longer can you wait for Jessica?!?!

24:35 - Maybe JT didn’t know? At least - not until Gil rambled on about waiting? JT looks like he just connected all the dots and he’s super uncomfortable.

24:43 -...... so she verbally attacks him all episode then drives him home and acts like she did toward Malcolm by mid-season 1? I’m getting whiplash.

25:18 - This scene is so cute. They actually made the real life version of heart-eyes at each other. And Malcolm pours her a glass of water. Because 1) she’s driving and 2) she’s a recovering addict. He’s so casually respectful and I love it.

25:28 - “Are you any different?” Ouch. Look at how hurt Malcolm is. :( Although, props to Dani for confronting him about it. Someone needed to and she’s being really calm and caring about it.

26:10 - Dani’s little speech about being a black woman feels a little forced? Like the writers put it in so she doesn’t feel left out compared to JT? Idk, the whole thing just seemed not quite believable. Probably because when JT was racially profiled Dani - a black woman - pulled out her badge and all the white cops listened to her. It just doesn’t track. They wouldn’t have listened to her if they were racist and bold enough to attack JT in the first place.

26:47 - Anyone else think that all those lit candles are a fire hazard? Just me? Cool cool cool.

27:21 - Yo. This is stupid. I understand why this happened - because the plot needed it to happen. BUT WHY DID ALL THREE ARMED COPS LEAVE THREE UNARMED PEOPLE ALONE?!? And when does a team of 4 split into a group of 3 and 1??! It makes no logical sense (except for plot purposes).

28:03 - Creepy.

28:30 - Oh. HELL no. This is absolute bs. My entire heart is breaking for JT.

29:05 - I really like how chill this Priest is. Like - he respects that Malcolm’s a disbeliever and he’s willing to talk to him without trying to convert him.

29:55 - Listen to how upset JT sounds here!! :( :( :( My heart. :(

30:08 - Ok so how did she end up tied in the closet and not murdered?

30:40 - ....so did Jonah ruin that painting while Sister Agnes was in the closet or is the Sister just a moron who didn’t say anything about the guy ruining the painting?!?

30:50 - Sooooo Jonah is an “expert”. He taught Sister Agnes how to safely handle the lead-based paint. Yet - he didn’t use the protection? We saw him with a gas mask at the beginning of the episode? Did the sister not notice that he wasn’t using the protection? So much of this doesn’t track. Thankfully, I don’t watch this show for the “murder of the week” plot line.

31:30 - Malcolm is a good dude. Even now. He’s trying to help Jonah. <3 Heart of gold.

32:25 - Martin - shut. up.

32:45 - Friar Pete is a creepy treasure. I love him.

33:24 - “Oh you’ve gotta be kidding.” hahaha I feel you Malcolm. I feel you.

33:34 - Not gonna lie - when I watched this the first time all I could think is “How the eff does Malcolm remember everything Pete just said?” Maybe it’s just me but I would need Pete to go 1-2 words at a time. And slowly. ....maybe Malcolm took Latin in school?

24:06 - Oh so all the killers this season are also going to accuse Malcolm of being a killer and/or evil.

34:40 - Damn. I wish the team walked in right as Malcolm was screaming “the power of Christ compels you!!!”.

35:15 - I. Love. This. Gil screaming on the phone is everything. Him going to bat for JT is everything. Malcolm saying “This is bad”?!? *chef’s kiss*. ISTG Malcolm’s been scolded by Gil when Gil is that mad at some point during his teen years.

35:53 - “I’ll take care of it.” JT. Is. My. Hero. What an absolute king. He’s going to take care of it, even though he’s terrified, because he needs to protect his family. Not just Tally and the baby. But little sister Dani too. <3 My heart is full.

36:11 - ....okay so not to ruin a totally beautiful and profound scene but every time I’ve watched this scene JT doing that lean into the wall is very weird to me. Because he turns to face the camera. If he just slid down the wall or just leaned his head against the wall - it wouldn’t have felt so strange. It honestly distracts me from the scene. Every. Time.

36:18 - This is hot garbage. I don’t even want to rewatch this scene because it makes me so upset.

37:51 - I understand where Jessica is coming from but I also think she’s being a moron. I will say though, I respect the hell out of Gil for walking away when asked. A lot of men wouldn’t but he respects Jessica even if he doesn’t like what he’s hearing. So he left because she asked him to.

39:00 - If this isn’t a red flag for Jessica about Ainsley’s mental health idk what is.

39:25 - Poor Malcolm looks like he’s on the verge of tears here. :( I’m genuinely scared that Malcolm is becoming suicidal. He’s reaching the level of depressed and guilt where I think it’s a possibility. I genuinely think he’d rather kill himself to stop his guilt and suffering than to admit it to Gil, Jessica, JT, or Dani. ...for legal reasons he definitely can’t tell Gabrielle.

40:00 - Sooooo Martin is finally suggesting that it was his idea to dispose of the body. I hope it’s the truth.

40:05 - Martin is a piece of trash. He really needs to stop playing with Malcolm’s head. It’s literally killing Malcolm.

40:50 - Oh. SHIT. Malcolm just clapped back hard. I am so so proud of him. ...also concerned about this deep anger in him though.

41:46 - I swear - if we don’t get a Gil and Martin face-off when Martin breaks out, I will lose my mind. It’s one of the top things I want from this show. A Martin+Gil showdown.

Ok. So I kind of loved this episode? Even though there were...many plot holes and things that annoyed me about it. Is it just me or has this season felt much darker than last season so far? It makes sense given last season’s finale but it’s still thrown me a bit.

BUT I CAN NOT WAIT FOR 2x3. That promo. Ugh. <3 <3 We’re going to get traumatized teen!Malcolm content and I’m a sick bastard who is living for it.

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Another Year

Summary: Arthur’s birthday is coming up. Y/N wants nothing more than to make it great.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 3,892

A/N: This request came from the one-of-a-kind, fabulous @sweet-nothings04! Thank you for asking for this. I enjoyed writing it a lot!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! Keep them coming!

Y/N hadn't realized how much she'd missed putting together birthday celebrations. Not until the unexpected serendipity of falling in love again. Her ex-husband had preferred not to make a big deal of them, had stated he hated getting older. (Considering he'd been in his twenties, she'd found that assertion silly.) As her father had slipped away, special events and gifts had gone by the wayside to focus on routines that wouldn't throw him off kilter. She'd been invited to her sister's and brother-in-law's parties but had only stayed for the hour or two she'd hired a sitter. And while she wasn't the most attentive aunt, she always ensured her nephews and nieces at least got a card and money for a treat.

From what she'd gathered, birthdays had never been an important facet of Arthur's life. That had become obvious upon learning his was 11/21/1946 by reading documents instead of from him. When she'd discovered he'd turned thirty-five and hadn't even told her. But unlike her ex, it wasn't because he didn't want them to be. It was due to neglect, isolation, and the inability to connect. As much sympathy as she had for Penny, for her own illnesses and suffering, for what had been done to her, the wounds she'd inflicted on her son hurt Y/N’s heart. There were so many lost years. She was determined to make-up for them by spoiling him.

The diner where Patricia and she often met for lunch was halfway between their two offices. A five- or six-minute walk for them both. Y/N arrived first. She sat at the white and gold Formica counter and perused the menu. (Though she'd already decided to get her usual pastrami on wheat, garlic pickle, and coleslaw.) Patricia strolled in as the waitress jotted down Y/N's order, and told the young lady she'd have whatever Y/N was having.

They caught up quickly. The Wayne Foundation case was going to have a preliminary hearing in three weeks. Y/N couldn't have rolled her eyes harder. ("Thank god I won't be there. They'd have to drag me off the stand.") Patricia listened with interest while Y/N went on about a dispute involving break violations at Ace Chemicals. And Patricia invited her to stop by the office soon, claiming Matt had realized he'd been stupid to let her quit. ("I'm sure he misses me being a pain in his ass.")

Y/N was picking at the crust of her sandwich when she changed the subject. “I need a favor.”

Patricia arched a brow at her. “Is this going to involve me lugging boxes of files to your apartment?”

“Only if you want the workout.” Chuckling, Y/N shook her head. “Arthur’s birthday is next Saturday. You bake the best cakes. If I’m left to my own devices, he’s going to get something out of a Universal Foods’ box.”

“Mine are out of a box. I just modify the directions and make my own frosting.” Patricia used the rest of her bread to sop up her coleslaw’s dressing. “How old did you say he’s going to be? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-six.”

Swallowing her last bite, Patricia quirked up the corner of her lips. “I still owe you for running those supplies to the office when my foot was broken. What kind does he like?”

Y/N hugged her tight across the shoulders. After a short discussion, they decided on chocolate with vanilla cream frosting - a safe choice. It would be small, since it was only for the two of them. Arthur had a job the day before. That would allow her to take it home without him seeing. She’d just have to keep him away from the fridge the rest of the evening.

They talked about the other things Y/N had in-store for him, the reservation, the gifts. She giggled, pleased at having successfully hidden it all from him so far. “You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Patricia said. “What did you do last year?”

“I didn’t know about it last year. He didn’t mention it.” Though Patricia was already aware of some of Arthur’s past, Y/N had kept the details to a minimum. She tried to think of an elaboration, one that respected his privacy but was honest. She started in on her pickle. “With Penny being sick - with everything he was going through...”

Sipping her coffee, Patricia spun her stool to face Y/N fully. “You don’t need to say anymore. I remember. It was hard for you both.”

The empathy in Patricia’s gaze prompted a smile. And reminded Y/N how grateful she was for a friend who was frank but unjudgmental. “Back then, he thought needing or wanting anything from me was a bother. But he’s getting better at letting me love him.” Y/N put a hand on her chest. “And now he’ll never need to mention it. It’s locked in here for good.”

~~~~~

Yesterday had left Arthur in a funk. One that showed signs of adhering to his brain the way flies had stuck to the tape he’d had to hang from the ceiling of his old apartment every spring. He’d spent close to twelve hours dancing and waving a “Store Closing! Everything 50-70% off!” placard in front of Dave’s Pleasure Emporium in Gotham Square. (The city must really be fucked if its denizens’ finances were shitty enough that adult shops were shutting down.) It had been his least favorite gig in months. But the slow season was coming on, and the pay had been decent.

The dull ache in his lower spine, radiating to his hip, had made it harder than usual to sleep. And soreness was seeping from familiar spots to sinews he’d forgotten were there. Even the tips of his toes hurt. Two more ibuprofen tablets and acetaminophen went down easily. Carefully, not wanting to rouse her, he removed Y/N’s hand from his stomach, wincing as he shifted onto his left side to alleviate the pressure on his right.

Thirty-five was too old for this. While he loved performing for children, he should have made it as a comic by now. And he should have finished school. He’d be able to do more than be on his feet all day, then. Have more options. Opportunities...

Or maybe he simply shouldn’t have taken that particular job.

The ability to stop catastrophizing, adjust his way of thinking, was new. And rare. He made a mental note to write today’s accomplishment in his journal and share it at his next appointment. The therapist would be impressed with him. Dozing, he thought his funk might abate after all.

It could have been five or fifty minutes later when he felt the comforter being dragged down. Heard the zip of the shades being rolled up. But he was in that snug state between wakefulness and slumber and refused to react. Then there was a pinch on his chin, a light weight on his scalp. “What are you doing?” he mumbled gravelly.

“It’s someone’s special day today,” Y/N said.

Oh. That’s right. He was thirty-six now.

Squinting in the bright sunlight filtering through their sheer curtains, he propped himself on his forearm. She was half-reclined next to him, draped in a short, black nightdress. The one she found a tad tawdry but he liked. He rubbed his eyes, his forehead. Thin cardboard stopped him when he reached his hair. His fingers followed it, found it tapered into a point.

A party hat. She’d gotten him a party hat. He couldn’t hold back his snort.

In his line of work, birthdays were for kids. He’d stopped caring about his own as a teenager. Penny had seemingly been glad he was around. But she never remembered. Hell, he’d had to remind her of her own. But the last acknowledgment of it, the last one before meeting Y/N, had been by a teacher. He’d gotten an extra five minutes of recess and escaped punishment for inappropriate laughter for the day.

This was his first birthday with a person who saw and loved him. Understood who he was. Knew he was more than some image projected onto him. A person who appeared thrilled he existed and to be in his life. As a husband. Every sit-com and film he’d watched had clued him in: wives deemed them important. They hid gifts, cooked special meals, sneaked around arranging parties. There hadn’t been any sneaking on Y/N’s part, none that he could detect. He wondered what she could have planned.

The kneading of her thumb in the hollow of his hip, briefs slung too low as usual, gave him a good idea of her plan for this morning. The entangling of their legs confirmed it. “I got donuts. Coffee’s ready.”

“You, um-“ He cleared his throat, closed his eyes at the brush of her thigh against his length. Which was getting harder with each touch of her lips to the crook of his neck. “You didn’t make breakfast?”

“No.” Her chuckle was throaty, full of desire. “I wasn’t going to torture you with burnt eggs.” She was pulling at his biceps, trying to get him to settle over her. “Let’s work up your appetite, Mr. Fleck.”

But he flinched and halted her movements. The painkillers hadn't kicked in yet. His muscles burned. "We'll get to it later," he promised between languid, lingering kisses. The kind that made him feel safe. Loved. Famished for her. She guided him onto his stomach, stroked him affectionately. Breaths mingling, they chatted lazily until they both cooled off.

Once his stomach started rumbling, Y/N insisted they get up, despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry. That staying under the covers with her for hours would be fun. That they could eat in bed, crumbs be damned. His back would get worse if he continued laying like that, she told him. He needed to stretch and move. Although he grumbled, his experiences with injuries, whether from overwork, assholes, or sleeping on a couch most of his life, had taught him she was right.

Following a cigarette on the fire escape, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and did a double-take at the round table in the dining nook. He approached it in disbelief. He tensed as he ran his hand along the rectangular gifts and their shiny red paper. Squeezed the puffy, tan winter coat. Fingered the silver ribbon tied to the chair, dangling from an aluminum helium balloon. The lump in his throat forced a short laugh. But he didn't cover his mouth, not having to hide from her. He shook his head, wiping at the sudden wetness in his eyes. "All this is for me?" He did his best to sound normal.

"No. They're for my other husband, Carnival." She came behind him, hugged him around his torso and splayed her fingers on his chest. "You may have met him. Has a penchant for making balloon animals? Wears pants with the cutest patch on his bottom?" He grasped her forearm, held her tight to him as his shoulders shook with mirth.

It wasn't yet eight o'clock. And the day was already shaping up to be one of his favorites.

~~~~~

At the vanity on Arthur's side of the bed, Y/N was attempting to create the perfect oval eye with brown liner. The wide smile creeping onto her face wasn't making it easy. But it couldn't be helped. Everything had gone wonderfully so far. Had more than met her expectations. She hoped his had been met, too.

She'd been badgering him to get a winter coat since last Christmas. (His teeth had chattered almost the entire time they'd stood outside to watch Gotham's Christmas parade. The hot chocolate from a vendor hadn't done much good. A long bath had been necessary to finally warm him up.) The one she'd picked out fit him well, and he'd seemed to like it, hanging it by the door next to his tan jacket. And she'd known he was attached to his trusty, foil razor. But it was over fifteen years old, taped together, and on its way out. The new one had a rechargeable battery. He wouldn't be tethered to the outlet over the sink if he wanted to move around a bit.

The twitch of his nostrils, his hitched breath as he'd whispered, "Thank you," had compelled her to kneel next to his chair. The poignancy of his reaction had affected her keenly. Hollowed out her core and filled it with compassion and love. He'd frowned and wiped his nose with the back of his knuckles. "Sorry," he'd scoffed, glistening eyes darting to hers. "I don't mean to be weird."

"You're not, Arthur." She'd gently removed his black and red polka-dotted party hat, set it on the table. "You're being you."

After a quick lunch, they'd leisurely strolled arm-in-arm through the neighborhood, including a visit to the nearby park. Arthur had wanted to stop into the used record shop three or four blocks away. She'd caressed up and down his back, observing his content visage as he flipped through the LPs. It was lovely to see him treat himself to a couple without hesitating to worry about the cost for too long. At home, he'd settled on the floor by the record player and put them on. He must have been feeling better, because he'd kept his earlier promise: they'd made love on the carpet. Unhurried, sweet, and giggling like idiots.

The opening of the bathroom door broke her out of her reverie. She started blotting her darker-than-usual red lipstick with a tissue. "It was nice of Patricia to get me aftershave," he said.

She smoothed the lines of her champagne color, mid-length dress, adjusted its petal sleeves, then twisted around just as he entered the bedroom. Her movements halted. Would his handsomeness, his beauty, ever fail to stun her? Gaze roaming his slender form, she stared at him. He'd only worn his black and brown oxfords seldomly, saving them for special occasions. The wrinkled white socks didn't match his black pants, but they paired well with him.

It was the teal button-up, patterned with white circles of various opacities and sizes, that caused her to need a few seconds to process his remark. It'd hung in the corner of his old living room; she'd eyed it in their closet since he'd moved in. It was such a contrast to his usual conservative clothing. Quite unlike him, she'd assumed. But seeing him standing there in it, the way it complimented his lithe figure and brought out the light green of his irises, made him look a little less withdrawn, she realized she'd been mistaken.

"She thought it'd suit your new shaver." He gave a gentle hum in response, bashful smile appearing. Such gestures were unfamiliar to him. Eventually, they'd become such an integral part of his life he'd grow tired of them. Y/N would make sure of that. The idea prompted a grin and she stepped around the bed to approach him. "You look great. Are you ready?"

“Yeah.” The crook of his mouth, the furrow of his forehead alerted her to his nervousness. He rubbed the back of his neck, flitted his look to hers. “It sounds fancy.”

She kissed him soundly and he eased into her embrace. “You don’t have to impress me,” she said. “You already did that. Use whichever fork you want.”

The restaurant was in Gotham’s Little Italy district, only a block or two from Chinatown. Y/N had never been to Bamonte’s but her colleagues had given it good reviews. (One had said he and his wife went there every anniversary.) Arthur gaped when they went inside. She watched him survey the lavish, red curtains decorating the walls; the dim lanterns suspended from the ceiling; the faux-marble floor. Huffing, he turned to her, concern clear on his face. She grasped his elbow. “It’s all right. You belong here as much as anyone else.”

The maitre’d led them to a secluded table, behind its own drawn back drapes in the rear corner of the smoking section. Arthur traced the edges of the three lit, tulip-shaped votive holders. Caressed the cream color tablecloth as he sat in the fabric covered chair. An anxious chuckle left him and he smoothed his palm over his thigh. “I hope I don’t spill anything.”

Y/N assisted Arthur with the menu, explaining some of the more exotic-to-him dishes. He was interested in the antipasto, which wasn’t unexpected, since he always kept a jar of olives in the fridge. The gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, and mozzarella was what he thought sounded best. She chose an old favorite, chicken in a mushroom and white wine sauce and a Caesar salad on the side. Arthur picked the least expensive Moscato on the wine list. When the bottle was opened and left on the table, he blinked at it, then shrugged and filled their glasses.

After a couple of sips, he crossed his legs and puffed on his cigarette. “I wrote a new joke. Well, I really just changed an old one.” He reached across the table to graze across the back of her hand. “Why didn’t the old man like having insomnia?”

Her eyelids fluttered, his gossamer touch setting her aflame. She ran her toes along his calf, his resulting twitch causing her to giggle in delight. “He wanted to sleep with his wife?”

Dark brows shot up in surprise, his eyes lighting up. Their fingers laced together. “How did you know?”

Leaning forward, she traced his crow's feet, prominent due to his beaming smile. Then her touch drifted to his jawline. “It was the first joke you ever told me," she murmured. "How could I forget?” Clutching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. He held her to his lips, hard enough to feel his teeth. And he grew quiet. “What is it?” she asked after a minute.

His eyelids shut. She could feel his pulse quicken together with hers. “I- I wanna sleep with you forever,” he breathed.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, she would have taken that to mean sex. From him, however, she knew it meant mountains more. Adoration welling in her chest, her fingertips weaved into his loose, chestnut curls. “You will.”

~~~~~

Once, in high school, Arthur had gotten a hold of some grass. It was supposed to induce giddiness and euphoria, make a person relax. God knows he could have used it back then; Penny had started declining and he’d had to learn to run a household. Plus, he’d thought at the time, it’d make him one of the guys. All the cool kids were doing it. Maybe he’d be able to connect with one and learn how to be popular. But all it had done was make him nauseous and paranoid. There hadn’t been one iota of the “high” he’d imagined. He’d thrown it out and never tried it again.

Now he wondered: was it possible to be high on a person? To be drunk on their presence? To feel their essence down to the cell? Necking on the sofa with Y/N, their coffee forgotten on the coffee table, he figured it must be. Enraptured, he wanted to capture her ragged breaths, take her into his lungs, make her a perpetual part of his being. Perhaps he’d stay happy naturally, then, like everyone else. Even if that didn’t work, she’d always be close.

Giggling, she pushed him off her and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait here. No peeking.”

Laughing softly, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face. She’d already gotten him gifts. Let him make love to her. Taken him to an eatery where he was totally out of place and managed to make it comfortable. What else could she possibly do? Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. He eagerly followed at the call of his name.

The loveliest cake he’d ever seen was on the counter. Dark chocolate shavings embellished its round border. And it was the perfect size for the two of them. Y/N was rushing to light a mass of candles on it. “Quick, make a wish before wax drips onto the frosting.”

He mused for a moment. He no longer needed to pine for daydreams and delusions of companionship - he had Y/N. In spite of the icons his mother had had in every room of their apartment, he’d long ago stopped praying to what he suspected was nothing for his conditions and illnesses to go away. Then it occurred to him. Bending to blow out the candles, he wished for his innate comedic gifts to be recognized. To be validated as the stand-up he knew he was. And to provide for Y/N. To be what she needed. To make her happy.

Although he was grateful for Patricia’s thoughtfulness, and he knew Y/N’s baking wasn’t better than his own, part of him had wanted her to be the one who made the cake. But he tried to push that aside and appreciate it regardless. The slice she gave him was far too generous. He ate it all, anyway, because it was delicious. The sponge was fluffy. And the chocolate could actually be detected, instead of a vague, sugary flavor. The frosting tasted finer than that on the grocery store bakery cupcakes he’d sampled in the past.

As he was rinsing off the cutlery, Y/N saddled up beside him and held out a bright purple envelope, inscribed with “Happy Birthday!” in her pretty longhand. He leaned his hip against the counter as he grasped it, intentionally brushing his hand against hers. Gingerly, he lifted the flap and pulled out the card.

The cardstock was a vibrant gold and white. Two mugs, one green and labeled, “Yours,” one pink and labeled, “Mine” sat on sketched coasters. The shiny purple letters underneath proclaimed, “You get me. I get you.” Pressing his thin lips together, he opened it. And sighed when he read the rest: “Hope you know how happy that makes me.”

One of his wishes had already come true.

The elation coursing through his veins made him shudder. He nearly missed the stiff papers that fell from the envelope. Y/N retrieved them and gently placed them in his palm. A wide smile spread across his cheeks as he read aloud. “‘Gotham Pops presents A Night with Gershwin?’” He double-checked the date. “These are for New Year’s Eve.”

She nodded. “I snagged them as soon as they went on sale. They’re orchestra seats.” Then she squeezed him flush to her side, bumped her nose to his. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you sing to yourself in the tub.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, eyes tracing the diamond pattern of the grey, linoleum floor. “I thought I was quieter.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Enthusiastically, her lips pulled at his before she grinned up at him. “Did you have a happy birthday? Was it worth getting older?”

Arthur’s answer came without delay. “Yes.” There wasn’t a way to explain what it meant to him, to explain that she helped him feel good to be alive. How full his heart was. That she patched cracks in his soul he hadn’t known existed. He longed to do the same for her. He cupped her jaw on either side, guiding her to his mouth and rasping, “I don’t mind getting older with you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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liw-the-melancholic-apple · 4 years

Text

The First One - Bonus scenes in traditional written word

This is a smau and a zukoXreader, although i haven't decided how this ends yet.

Y/n has recently transferred to Ba Sing Se from Omashu university and meets the gaang through a schoolproject they do with sokka and suki.

Bonus 2: Nerves

Ooooookay. It wasn't all this exciting. You'd been to parties before. You'd met new people before. Why did choosing a pair of jeans feel like you were deciding your fate? You usually only noticed people's jeans when they didn't fit, were neon colours or torn to shreds.

Your jeans all fit you, they were all in the neutral colour scheme and those that were distressed were still more fabric than hole.

So, by your own logic you could choose any pair and be fine. Yet still five pairs were laying on your bed. 2 grey, 2 black, one midnight blue. You didn't seem to be able to pick one.

The pile of t-shirts and jumpers on the ground hadn't gotten any of your attention but promised to be a similar drama...

You sighed in annoyance and texted both, Jin and Fai. The latter had a lot of encouragement and suggestions while the former mostly mocked you. He did however offer some really good advise: treat it like a gig with the band. In a pub. Wear those clothes.

"And stop being such a nervous wreck! It doesn't suit you. You're great. You're fun. They'll like you."

He didn't let you thank him, though. "Next time you're here, you're buying at least two rounds. I'm not your fucking therapist."

Classic Jin. But his idea worked. To a gig you'd wear the ripped black jeans, white t-shirt and the vintage leather jacket.

Those where the clothes you wore when you left your appartment. Those were the clothes you wore when Suki texted that she was held up at Aang's place. She would be late. Sokka was gonna join later anyways. Ty Lee wasn't coming at all.

Yeah, meeting new people who were presumably forced to be nice to you!! On your own. Without the safety blanket that were Suki and Sokka. Great...

You stood in front of the Jasmin Dragon, studying the green and gold of the big logo on the window and the small one on the door.

You could just wait here for Suki. No, you weren't a child and Suki wasn't your mum. Besides, she would show up with Aang -why did that name seem so familiar? - and you already told her that you would be about 15 minutes earlier than her. Waiting was no option.

You shifted your weight from your left leg to the right and texted the group chat:" So, I'm here."

Katara answered, telling you to come inside to the counter. The scent of oriental spices and caramel syrup filled the air in the shop. The perfect mix of old-timey, traditional tea house and modern way too sweet coffeshop combined into one smell. The essence of the Jasmin Dragon.

You had discovered it during your first week in Ba Sing Se and instantly fell in love with it. Was it that smell? Maybe. Was it the excellent sencha-ginger-tea? Partially. Was it the supercharging, black as your soul giant mugs of coffee? Partially. Was it the delicious muffins in every flavour imagineable? Yes. Was it the breakfast items that all looked mouthwatering? Absolutely.

But mainly it was the general atmosphere here. The furniture was a collection of armchairs, benches, sofas and tables that all looked like they came from a 50's or 60's living room. All colours of the Rainbow, nothing actually fit together. It was so cosy and inviting.

And then there was the old man who usually was behind the black marble counter. You'd found that he would start around 11 am, as he was never there when you got your coffee before early lectures and classes. But he would take orders, prepare drinks, clean tables and give his thoughts on students' problems when you popped in for a midmorning pick-me-up.

And also now, close to closing time, the rotonde older man with the long grey hair stood behind the counter checking on a couple of teapots that gently bubbled behind him. While doing so, he talked to a short black-haired girl that giggled a lot. She held on to an annoyed looking tall guy, that you thought might work here, and stood next to a girl that warmly smiled at you and waved you over.

"Y/n?"

"Yes, that would be me. You're Katara?" She nodded.

"And that's Toph and Zuko", she answered while indicating the girl and the guy. Suki had warned you about both of them. Toph was blind and often subjected to people wanting to help her, which she hated. "Don't offer her help. She'll let you know when she needs you", Suki had said.

The girl extended a hand into your general direction. "Pleasure meeting you."

"All mine", you answered taking her hand. Zuko also shook your hand, mumbleing "Hi."

He had a rather large scar on the left side of his face. His hair covered it some. According to Suki you shouldn't stare and shouldn't mention it. She had known Zuko for years and still didn't know how he got it. You quickly averted your eyes.

"Okay, so I'm sure Suki already told you but she only just left Aang's. His roommate is a bit mad because he can't go to the party and delayed them."

You were about to answer when the man behind the counter cleared his throat. "Sencha-ginger", he handed you cup. Surprised but greateful you took it and looked for your wallet.

"Oh, no need. You've been a valued customer. And i finally learned your name. You know, you're one of the most quiet People ever to come into the shop." He gave you another smile.

"Not really quiet", you answer laughing. " But i usually come in alone and i don't like talking to myself in public. People stare." The man crinkled his forehead but Toph punched your shoulder and laughed. "Sokka said you were funny!"

"Well, why do you always come in on your own?", counterman inquired, his forehead smoother.

"Uhm...", should you tell the sad truth?

"You don't have to answer that", Zuko intervened. "Since he opened the dragon he's become quite enamored with gossip, haven't you uncle? No need to satisfy his curiosity."

"My nephew thinks me impolite. But I reckon there is a reason for your solitude. If it is your choice to enjoy our tea alone you can tell me that and no harm is done. But if unfortunate circumstances force you to drink your tea by yourself i would like to give you the oppertunity to speak about it. Let go of dark thoughts."

Wow. Some teamaker he was. And Zuko's uncle? Interesting.

"Thank you...Mr..."

"Iroh. Just Iroh will be fine."

"Well then, thank you Iroh. It's not too much of a story, though. I moved to Ba Sing Se six weeks ago and haven't yet found a group of people who'd put up with me for extended periods of time", you chuckled, hoping you didn't seem too desparate.

Katara seemed like she wanted to say something really nice but Iroh spoke quicker:" Oh, i don't think that's true. You don't give me the impression that anybody would have to put up with you. But if you want company while drinking your beverage i can always chat.

We could talk about your love for green tea and ginger. You know we also have black tea varieties that feature ginger and i think you might enjoy the herbal infusions.

The fruitier teas go great with the muffins! And if you're into croissants and pudding pretzels you should try the vanilla chai latte.

But if you don't want to talk about tea we could also gossip and play pai sho. You know how to play pai show, right?"

You absolutely didn't.

"I'm familiar with the most basic of basic rules." Wrong answer. The sweet little man grabbed a pai sho board out of nowhere and started explaining the game. Zuko offered an apologetic gesture, while Katara and Toph intently listened. You sipped your tea, nodded your head and enjoyed just being part of something. It had been a minute. But you would never play pai show of your own volition. The game was complicated and boring at the same time.

"Maybe you would like to learn about the ancient art of teamaking?", Iroh continued his suggestions of things to talk about when at the dragon.

Was there an art to it? Hot water and a teabag, no? You tried a vague expression and he kept talking.

"I always wanted to found a club or class, you know. Likeminded tea enthusiasts who want to deepen their knowledge and appreciation. Would you be interested?"

No, you weren't. But he was so endearing. So caring. So genuinely into this idea.

"I... have yet to find out how much time and effort my classes will demand. I wouldn't wanna make promises i can't keep."

That was fair, right? And not even an actual lie.

"We're here!!!!!"

Suki burst through the door, followed by a gangly guy with a shaved head. Aang!! That's why the name sounded familiar! He was Instagram verified. Half the campus followed him for his inspirational quotes and vegan recipes.

Suki hugged you hello, introduced you to the insta-famous and then Katara ushered you out and to the metrostation.

You waved at Iroh as you left. He had only talked about things that hardly interested you but he'd managed to make you feel like a member of the group that was now discussing pai sho rules, teamaking and being on time.

MASTERLIST

Part 1

@fanficflaneuse @eddiesemoass

#atla fanfic #atla zuko #smau #avatar: tla #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader

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drinkfantasy · 4 years

Text

tag game ★~(◡﹏◕✿)

50 questions you’ve never been asked before

I was tagged by @ohwaitimthewriter tysm,

what is the color of your hairbrush?

It’s actually a comb made of wood, so brown.

are you typically too warm or too cold?

you mean literally...? Too warm.

what were you doing 45 minutes ago?

I was in class

what is your favorite candy bar?

Not into candy bars that much.. but i used to love kitkat and twix

have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Nope

what is the last thing you said out loud?

how fluflly and chubby my cat is and how much love him. He happily agreed while still eating, that little greedy blob of fluff... not that little tho lol

what is your favorite ice cream?

I’d say salted caramel. I can’t have any other flavor since I tried that goddamn ice cream, I haven't lived until the thing touched my lips. oh my.

what was the last thing you had to drink?

Coffee

do you like your wallet?

I guess..

what was the last thing you ate?

Peanut butter and Nutella sandwich (breakfast)

did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

nope, im broke af.

i just realized that i havent bought new clothes in years, dude... o.o

the last sporting event you watched?

I don’t really watch sport nor TV

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Traditional...

who is the last person you sent a text message to?

To my therapist

ever go camping?

YES. I LOVE IT AND MISS IT T.T

do you take vitamins?

YES

do you go to church every Sunday?

Nope.

do you have a tan?

I’m a redhair too, so the only thing i get is red all over than a very weird zebra look 😂

do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

PIZZA

do you drink your soda with a straw?

YES.

but I have those reusable ones

what color socks do you usually wear?

hmm, I hate socks so I barely have them, when I do they're either white or black

do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I don't know how to drive yet...

what terrifies you?

I don't have any specific phobia, but the thought of an unfulfilled life terrifies me for sure

look to your left, what do you see?

Water bottle and lamp

what chore do you hate?

All of them, I wish I were rich so I could pay people to do that for me srsly. I hate!!!! it never ends... IT NEVER ENDS!!!

what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

the bunny form the Rise of the Guardians movie and huntsman spiders o.o

what’s your favorite soda?

Coca cola

do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

Neither of them. When I really miss getting sick to much stomach I just fry some stuff at home and then eat them and regret my whole existence

who’s the last person you talked to?

To my dad

favorite cut of beef?

I’m vegan, so I like my cow alive and happy

last song you listened to?

I Giorni (arr. for violin, piano and string) Ludovico Einaudi, Daniel Hope

IM IN LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE THIS SONG IS SO BEAUTIFUL *-*

last book you read?

The power of now.. still reading tho.. along with 3 other books.

favorite day of the week?

Saturday

can you say the alphabet backwards?

Err...

how do you like your coffee?

I like my coffee like i like myself. strong and brazilian

favorite pair of shoes?

Barefoot

the time you normally go to sleep?

Around 22h

the time you normally get up?

Around 6 or 7am. it depends on the day

what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

Sunsets 🌇

how many blankets on your bed?

One

describe your kitchen plates

I barely have them... srsly they're all glass, all them 3 lol

do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

Hm.. wine and there's thing drink they make here in brazil which you mix wine with condensed milk and MY DUDES THAT THING IS DELICIOUS AND HOW IT GETS YOU DRUNK love it.

do you play cards?

Not really but would love to learn

what color is your car?

In my dreams it’s black

can you change a tire?

nope

favorite job you’ve ever had?

Heiress. Never been one but would love to.. Srsly.

it’s work. everything i do for obligation sucks. I just wish i were rich and didn't have to worry about my dues so i could actually devote my time to my passions and helping people.

how did you get your biggest scar?

Suicide attempt on my wrist. BUT IM FINE NOW. it’s been years and the scars healed pretty well. I barely remember them and they don't bother me any longer

what did you do today that made someone else happy?

Huh, nothing... but hey it's only 9am!

I tag @supersoldierslover @glitterghost @dead-welsh-king @shawn-and-harry and whoever wants to join in!

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star-anise · 5 years

Note

hey! since you're a therapist I was wondering if you could help me with figuring out... 1) what I should be expecting out of therapy and 2) what's like normal behavior for therapists because I tried before, and I'm gonna try again for the gazillionth time, and clearly smtng isn't working abt this. I often get lost on "what is something that I should be looking out for" and what's something the therapist should have pointed out/helped me with. it may be they don't know enough abt ptsd, but still

This is an awesome question to talk about with your therapist. That doesn’t mean I’m not answering your question! But I think a lot of the time people don’t know they’re allowed to ask and talk about the therapy, like, “This isn’t working for me, I’m not getting anything out of this,” or, “What even are we trying to accomplish here,” or, “This is inconvenient, but I have a giant crush on you.”

Because the therapist is SUPPOSED to take that as really valuable feedback and incorporate it into treatment--to adjust their approach, or talk about useful goals, or say, “Okay, let’s talk about that.” (I recently read an advice column that told someone who had a crush on their therapist to just stop seeing her and find a new one and like nooooo, a good therapist maintains the boundary of “I would not sleep with you if you were the hottest person on earth, sorry” and lets you talk about how you keep romanticizing anyone who pays attention to you or whatever, and you can’t address it if you don’t talk about it)

So especially if you feel like you’re flailing and not accomplishing much and nothing make sense, it’s okay to ASK FOR more direction and structure. Or just impose it yourself. Some therapists won’t do that because their entire method is being super unstructured, but in that case, they should tell you so and provide you with a referral to people who can help you feel like you have more control over the process. You and your therapist should figure out what to work on together and agree on how you’re going to get there; if they don’t want to explain their basic intentions and methodology, you don’t have to keep working with them.

Bc like, PTSD treatment can be pretty different from regular therapy, and complex PTSD different again from “simple” PTSD. Like, the average neurotypical usually has a lot of emotional self-regulation skills, so they can manage themselves in session. As a therapist I can just let them run the show and provide reflection and validation, and by the end of 50 minutes, they’ve usually talked themselves around to figuring out their problems.

On the other hand, people who missed out on learning those self-regulation skills may talk about their problems, and instead of realizing that they’re upset and trying to take steps to ameliorate that, if I don’t stop them, they’ll keep hammering on the things that make them upset, until they spiral into being downright distraught, and then the session’s over and they walk out of the door feeling really wrecked. Which isn’t actually therapeutic! A lot of therapists, especially in the past, have made this mistake--expecting people to use skills they don’t actually have, and being puzzled about why therapy works for other clients but not this one.

So now as I work in C-PTSD I know that sometimes, I have to teach self-regulation, and get really active in session getting clients to notice their feelings, connecting those sensations to the things we were talking about, and taking steps to adddress them. The important thing is far less the issue we’re talking about, as the lived experience of having a feel, recognizing it, and getting back to okay. It’s the same in a lot of other areas--therapists have to distinguish between whether they’re teaching you a skill to start with, or coaching you through using a skill you already know.

I also use session feedback scales, where people fill out a form at the end of the session to say if they found I listened to them well, we talked about what was useful to them, we used the right approach, etc. Because that is VALUABLE stuff to know, as a therapist--and even if your therapist doesn’t actively solicit feedback from you, you can PROVIDE this feedback and work it out on your own. You’ll probably have different perspectives on things, and your therapist might not hit the mark for you, but the more important thing is for them to listen to what you’re saying and adjust to suit you.

Depending on the options available to you, you could seek out a therapist with a specific background in PTSD, who knows a form of therapy like somatic experiencing, Trauma Focused CBT, or Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, and might have a bigger toolkit to bring to your work together.

I hope this helps?

#therapisting #staranise original #i-fear-oceans

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mel-is-sanonymous1994 · 5 years

Text

Exploit Found

Part 1 Part 2

A/N once again I am not an expert in anything. I did my best.

PART 2

NOVA’S POV

The Next Morning

Alarms suck. I groaned, stretched, and then walked into the bathroom. Turning on the speaker, I pressed play on my shower playlist, back to back queen. Once I had gone through my routine I got out dried off and got dressed. At Safety Net Cybersecurity there is a pretty strict dress code. I put on a button up baby blue blouse, a pair of khaki skinny jeans and a dark blue blazer. To finish off the outfit I curled my hair, put some light makeup on my face and a pair of heeled short boots. I took one last look in my full-length mirror. I looked ridiculous. I took some deep breaths and walked out of my apartment locking the door behind me. Driving in New York is basically impossible so I waited outside for a cab, which terrified me. As I waited I saw Elliot walk out of our building.

“Hey, Elliot!” I called waving. He glanced at me before walking towards me.

“Where you headed?” I asked trying to make small talk with my less than talkative neighbor.

“Work.” He said, hands still in his hoodie pockets and his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

“Cool me too, where do you work?” I questioned further.

“Safety Net Cybersecurity, I’m a tech.” He said.

“Woah, that’s crazy, I start there today, however, I'm not smart enough to be a tech, I'm basically a secretary kinda.” I babbled.

“That is crazy, well I gotta go.” He said politely attempting to leave the situation. I got an idea.

“Hey! Wait! Would you wanna take a cab with me? I know it sounds ridiculous but I've watched too many crime shows. I’ll pay.” I offered. He looked like he was gonna say no.

“Pretty please Elliot, I promise I won’t say anything to you the entire cab ride, plus it’s a free ride to work,” I begged. He caved.

“Fine,” he said as I hailed a cab. I opened the door for him to slide in. Once I got in I told him the address with a shaky voice. I kept my eyes on the driver as I tried to control my anxiety. I couldn’t bite my fingernails or play with my hair so I resorted to listing all of my family members in order over and over again in my head.

ELLIOT’S POV

We’ve only been in this cab for 5 minutes but I can tell Nova is on edge, she kept tapping her leg in some sort of rhythmic pattern, her eyes are firmly planted on the drivers back which I can tell is making him uncomfortable. Another two minutes had gone by and the driver had had enough.

“Miss if you don’t stop staring at me I’m kicking you out of my cab.” He yelled. She jumped.

“Hey, Nova, uh what made you decide to move to New York?” I asked attempting to distract her. It worked, now she was looking at me. I once again looked anywhere but her eyes.

“Um, personal reasons.” She said looking back at the driver. Crap. Think Elliot.

“Tell me about your family,” I said. She gave me a surprised look.

“I promised I wouldn’t talk.” She smirks slightly.

“If it will keep you distracted and keep us in this cab then go ahead.” I offered.

“I just met you yesterday, how do I know I can trust you with my family information.” She countered. The stalker, it’s made her more cautious and untrusting. I needed to think of a non-personal question. We drove past a bus with some sort of musical advertised on the side of it.

“What’s your favorite musical?” I asked.

“You know for someone who isn’t very comfortable with talking you sure do talk a lot.” She pointed out. I leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear.

“Listen, I know you are super anxious right now, the driver won’t kill us, unless you keep staring at him,” I said trying to help her. Krista (Elliot’s therapist) would have a field day with her.

“Fine.” She said making direct eye contact with me, I looked away.

“Then tell me, Elliot, tell me about your life.” She countered. I froze. I didn’t expect her to turn my questions on me.

“Nothing to it really,” I said shrugging, she was right, we just met.

“Wicked.” She blurted out now staring in her lap at her hands fidgeting.

“What?” I questioned thinking I missed something.

“My favorite musical, Wicked.” She said smiling at me.

“As for the family, and the reason I moved here questions, we are gonna have to wait until we’ve ridden the cab together for at least a month before I answer those questions.” She said nudging me. I flinched slightly at the touch but brushed it off pretty quickly.

“Sorry.” She said noticing my flinch.

“It’s fine. So are you saying that there will be more cab rides?” I asked. I found it slightly easy to talk to her, it felt like talking to Angela (best friend) or Darlene (sister).

“I mean, I have to get to work somehow and I don’t completely trust the subway just yet, if you don’t wanna ride the cab with me for free then I guess I can ride alone.” She said as she began scratching her palm with her opposite hand. I looked at her palm and noticed it was red and rough, must be a coping mechanism, something she does to keep her anxiety at bay. I sighed.

“I’ll ride with you,” I said.

“Thank you.” She said smiling and blushing. She now rubbed her palm with her thumb. I made a mental note to ask Krista about anxiety mechanisms.

“On one condition,” I said with a smirk of my own. She nodded.

“You promise to talk, it seems to distract you and I’m 90% sure our cab driver here almost kicked us out at the last red light,” I said in a whisper once again. We pulled up in front of the building. She pulled out her wallet. I stopped her and paid for the cab ride.

“But whatever will I talk about?” She asked with a smirk.

“Anything, I once had a friend who talked about TV shows, nonstop for months,” I said shrugging. She nodded as she apologized to the driver and thanked him for giving him an additional tip to the one I gave him. Once we got out he drove off.

“Ok, I promise, but be prepared I don’t shut up.” She said laughing nervously at herself. I shrugged once again.

“I’m a good listener,” I said.

“Hi welcome.” A receptionist greeted us at the door. Elliot showed his badge and then walked to the elevators. I gave a slight wave and he gave a polite smile. I took a deep breath and approached the front desk.

“Hello Ma’am, what can I do for you today?” She asked with a megawatt smile.

“Hi, I am here to see Mr. or Mrs. Brown of Safety Net, it’s my first day,” I said nervously.

“Perfect, ride the elevator to the 4th floor, walk into the main room off of the hall and all the way at the back is their offices, whichever one is in right now will get you started. I nodded and followed her instructions. I walked to the offices and saw only one occupied, Mr. Brown’s. I knocked and waited for the wave to enter.

“Yes?” he asked once I opened the door.

“I’m November Peterson, your new employee,” I said as clearly as I could.

“Ah yes, come sit.” He said pointing to the chair across from his desk. He stood to shake my hand and sat back down once I did.

“Welcome to Safety Net, I'll spare you the full backstory but my wife and I started this company only a couple months ago, after the E corp hack, the wife and I were left with nothing, no jobs, no home, and just when we were trying to start a family.” He said drifting off in thought. I cleared my throat.

“Anyway, once E corp had got back their system and the economy was restored my wife and I went to investors with the promise of opening up a company that is pretty hard to hack, we’ve employed the top tech’s in New York, we handle some of the biggest companies in New York's data, we may be just starting out but we already have over 50 companies in our care.” He proudly stated. I noticed the way his face lit up when he talked about his wife. He reminded me of a younger version of my Dad.

“I’m happy to be a part of that sir,” I said smiling. He smiled in return.

“My wife is currently at a doctors appointment otherwise I would take you over to introduce you, finally starting that family, anyway, if you follow me, I'll show you to your desk.” He said standing and opening the door for me.

“I’m sorry it isn’t more glamorous but this is the best we can do for you right now, you can personalize your desk however you’d like, feel free to help yourself to coffee or water in the break room just down the hall, your phone at your desk is set up with it’s own number and line, if reception receives a call for me or the wife and it’s not an urgent matter it will be directed to your phone, answer it, if we are in our office and it seems important or they will not take no for an answer you can transfer it to us by pressing line 3 or 4, if we are out of the office, take a message, or have them call back, use your own judgement, if they seem like assholes and won’t take no for an answer hang up, they will eventually call back anyway. Any questions so far?” he began my instructions as I looked over my desk. It was a half circle set directly in between the Brown’s offices. It was a clear glass top with a nice desktop and a phone. I shook my head and he continued.

“Ok so your main gig while here will be answering phones, but other than phone calls you will be in charge of inputting the simplified reports, the companies we protect each have a number of tech’s on their accounts, every day the companies demand reports, at 4:45 P.M the techs will send a simplified status of all of the accounts they monitored that day, all you have to do is copy and paste them into the program, just click on the company’s name and that will open a page where you will paste the tech lead’s simplified report press send and then do that for every company, it shouldn’t take you very long. Still following?” He asked. I nodded but was still worried I would forget something.

“For today I’ve asked Mr. Alderson to help you at the end of the day, he is our best tech, he oversees most of the tech leads, he doesn’t like the attention but the simplified reports go through him first, other than that you’ll just be sitting here and being an assistant for my wife and I, until the end of the day when you are inputting data. Sound good?” He asked with a smile.

“Yes, sir,” I said sitting in my desk chair. The desk and desk chair were higher than the other desks in the room so I could just about see the entire office. I saw rows of cubicles and heads buried in computers.

“You will have a company log in, your username is your last then first name, the password will automatically generate once you type in your username, we’ve set up the computer so the first time you turn it on it will only ask for your username, then it will send your cellphone a message containing your password that will self delete in 30 seconds to write it down or if you have a good memory then you are good, but the next time you log into your computer you will need that password, if you ever forget your password or for some reason it isn’t working then you can call Mr. Alderson, like I said he is our head tech, best employee.” I nodded.

“Oh and the last thing before I leave you to it, make sure you turn your computer off or log out before you leave your desk if you forget you won’t be in trouble but it’s how we make sure people stick to their desktops.” He said patting my back. I smiled and nodded.

“I’m just gonna stand here for a second while you log in so that I know you get your password.” He said. I turned the computer on and a screen popped up with the heading, Welcome to Safety Net. I clicked in the textbox that said username and typed it in.

Username: PetersonNovember

Once I had typed in the username another screen appeared asking for the password. I felt my phone vibrate and I saw the password. Mr. Brown looked away as I wrote down and typed in my password.

Password: 6683623771987NP

“Thank you for joining Safety Net.” The computer said in an automated voice.

“Perfect, ok well, I’ll leave you to it, if you have any questions or need me feel free to come ask otherwise there is a list of phone numbers next to your phone including mine and the wife’s office phone so feel free to call. You are gonna do great.” He said with one more encouraging pat on the back. I felt my phone vibrate once more. Once he walked away I looked at who it was.

Mommy: Hey honey, how is the first day going, we miss you, Mason and Max say hi, they miss their big sister.

Me: It’s going great, just started, it’s a lot but I got this, tell them I say hi, and I miss them more, also tell them that they can text me themselves lol

Mommy: You know the twins, they don’t wanna bother their sister, they think because you are 28 and living in New York you don’t have time for your 16-year-old siblings anymore.

Me: well that is just not true, I always have time for the little miracles, please tell them to text me whenever and for whatever reason, even if it’s just Mason telling me about her most recent attempt at a boyfriend or Max’s incessant need to try every single sport.

Mommy: will do, oh lord Max has moved on to hockey, poor boy.

Me: What happened to soccer?

Mommy: that’s a summer sport dear, and at the end of this year, Mason will be performing at Walleye, she is only going to be on a small stage but her little girl band has attracted quite a bit of attention here in town.

Me: OH MY GOSH, I will have to fly down to see my little sister kill it, but listen I gotta go I'll call you later when I get home to talk to all of you.

Mommy: Oh before I forget, your old house was broken into, James knows you moved, there is no way in hell he would know where since you are so far away but I just thought I'd let you know.

Me: Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.

I locked my phone and set it down on my desk and took a deep breath, James is continuing to be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I glanced at my computer and saw messages popping up in a company group chat, every single tech in the room had welcomed me to the company. I blushed and took another breath as my phone rang. So it begins.

“Hello, Safety Net,” I answered as cheerfully as I could. This job could either go really good or really horrible, being an assistant might seem easy at the moment but the data inputting, that doesn’t seem easy at all.

#elliot alderson x oc #elliot alderson #elliot alderson imagines #mr robot #rami malek

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theysaywhatasadsight · 6 years

Text

The Misfit: Prologue (Peter Parker X Reader)

A/N: WHAT’S UP YOU BITCHES!! Ya gurl is back with a series, written in collab with @sectumsempra-beaches , this one is based on the film Khoobsurat, the trailer for which (if you wanna see the direction this will go in, is here . Tell moi if Y’all wanna be tagged!

Summary: (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is the quirky, no-nonsense assigned physiotherapist to Tony Stark, a crippled and cranky billionaire and his house full of weird people who lead a completely different life to hers. She must survive the constant glares from his wife, the pleading eyes of his daughter, and his son’s half-teasing, half-contempt filled eyes that keep seeking her out. (KHOOBSURAT AU)

Taglist: @messy-adiness12345

The man in the doctor’s apron hurried along the corridors beside the stadium, trying desperately to ignore the various catcalls, screams and shouts that were thrown at him by the fans of the player. He dodged a shabbily thrown water bottle, nearly slipped after someone pushed at him from the side, and muttered a few ‘excuse me’s’ as he finally reached the door marked ‘PRIVATE’.

Inside, the player was lying on a bed, grunting in agony at his leg which, by the looks of it, was mildly sprained. A woman stood over him, hands on her hips, eyebrows scrunched as she tried to figure out how to fix what was wrong with him with as less pain as possible.

“It hurts too damn much,(Y/N).I won’t be able to play.”He begged.

The woman, (Y/N), whirled around to look at Michael, her assistant, enter.She nodded at him and motioned him to hold Peterson’s shoulder down while she tried to fix his ankle.She knew that if she screwed thisup, she'd have toface the wrath of his dedicated army. As they were working on the patient, Micheal spoke up.

“Hey, (Y/N)?" (Y/N) hummed, her primary attention on her patient's aching ankle."You remember the Stark case? It came in a few days ago. Yeah, they need us to confirm the therapist today itself. Apparently, even though the position is temporary someone's urgently required. Are you listening?" She hummed again in reply and signaled him to continue. "Yeah, so. Can you please go? Please? Under no circumstance can I go there. I really can't."Michael pleaded.

She made a face. “You know I can’t deal with those stuck up idiots. Why can’t you go?”

“This is the third time I have rescheduled my France trip! My wife will leave me!”

“Really seeing the love there, Michael.”

“Please, please, please.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Uhhh, you guys, discuss your plans later please. My ankle hurts like a bitch.”

(Y/N) sighed and unwrapped the bag of ice she had covered his ankle with. She asked Michael to pass a roll of elastic bandage from their stock and wound it around Peterson's sprain. She patted the bandaged area slightly, satisfied with her work and turned towards the player.

"You're supposed to rest for quite a few days now, you understand? I'll schedule your appointments with your agent. Off the bed now, tiger."

“Hey! Thanks,(Y/N)."

“That’s what they pay me for,bud. Now, in the next match, go out there and bajade unki.”

He blinked twice trying to comprehend what she had said."What?”

“Uhh…nothing. Break a leg!”She smiled meekly at him, mentally face palming at the poor pun.

(Y/N) was on the last day of her duty and had full-on plans to fly back home, relax for a month and splurge the fees she had earned for being a physiotherapist for a well-known cricket team. Although she had no knowledge of the game, (much to the despair of her father Steve, who despite the fact that he was born and brought up in America, was a hardcore cricket fan and a sucker for Indian sweets, thanks to (Y/N)'s late mother.)

The young physiotherapist had forgotten that Micheal was still present in the room and jumped when he spoke up.“You’re saving my marriage, (Y/N).”

She laughed along with him as she replied, “Yeah, yeah. That's the least I can do.”

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the commentators as they cheered Peterson's team for their victory.

Absolutely ecstatic that her mom's favourite team won, (Y/N) did a happy dance with her assistant as she resigned for the day.

X-X-X-X

"There is absolutely no need for you to go all the way to Los Angeles to meet with Mr. Odinson. As your lawyer, I can assure you that I will bring him to New York soon. We have been trying for three months now and he will surely yield. He has just been very evasive. Rest assured, Mr. Stark."

The young man sitting across from his lawyer looked up from the papers he was reading and smiled. "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Stane. You have had me waiting for three months but personally, I believe that there is no need to wait. Since it is clear that our views have long since diverged, I believe so should our paths."

As the older man absorbed the news an airport staff member walked up to them. "Mr. Peter Stark? Your seat for the next flight to Los Angeles has been confirmed." She handed the ticket to him and left. Peter turned around and waved the ticket at the lawyer. "Mr. Stane, you will be respectfully escorted to your house by my driver. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch. I believe if I talk to Mr. Odinson when he can't escape, he would have to yield. And certainly, what's a better place than a seat right next to him on a five hour flight?"

X-X-X

At 7:50 PM exactly, Virginia “Pepper” Stark walked out of her rooms after changing for dinner and a phone call with her son, Peter. At 7:55 PM, she fired two servants who were not up to task, signed a few files and sat down to dinner, greeting her husband Tony, and sighed about her daughter who was late again. At 7:56 PM exactly, Wanda Stark rushed into the dining room, saw her mother’s frown, silently scolding her for leaving her hair open, tied it up and stepped back into the room with all the grace she could muster and at 8:00 PM, her mother motioned for dinner to be served.

“Good Evening, Dad, Mother.”

“Good Evening dear.” Tony beamed at her.

“Discipline is not a bad thing, dear.”Pepper softly chastised her daughter.

“Sorry, mother.”

“Tony, by the way, Dr. Chopra had called. Your new physiotherapist, Dr. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), arrives the day after tomorrow. She is a sports physiotherapist. If you at least try once…”she pleaded at her husband.

“I have not called anyone, neither chased them away. Jarvis?”

“Yes, Sir?”Their butler promptly replied.

“What’s the score? 40, 42?”

“No idea, sir.”

Wanda glanced quickly at her mother who was glaring daggers at her husband while he sipped wine and smiled at her. She wondered just what the hell a normal life felt like.

X-X-X-X

“Dear god, you know me, why would I be formal with you? All I want in life is for (Y/N) to be happy and find a nice, well-mannered boy she'll be in love with for the rest of her life. Then at the wedding, I’ll have a huge thank you party for you.”

“Dear God, please don’t listen to him, especially the last line.”(Y/N) glared at her father and sent a silent plea to his husband, Bucky. She knew it was useless when she saw Bucky trying to hide his laughter, failing miserably and choking on the chicken.

“Why? Since the last two years, husband toh chodho, you don’t even have a boyfriend! You have become so famous now, working with so many cricket teams. I admit that Peterson is elderly and married, but you could’ve at least come in the news with a hot new player! And that Greenberg’s son, he also has become an actor! Your love life is so barren that even I have the extreme urge to just set you up with someone.”

“Baba Yaar, don’t start this please.” In an attempt to avoid further conversation with Steve, (Y/N) turned to face Sam who had been on cooking duty that day.

“Tu toh chah gaya yaar! The chicken is top class!”She grinned at Sam with such fake sweetness that Sam started laughing loudly.

Steve grumbled under his breath while Bucky snickered at his husband’s life long wish to see his daughter happily married after he had had to deal with her numerous break up sagas.

X-X-X

“Is September fine?”

“Yes. My planners will be here by then. Have we decided a venue yet?” Michelle Jones, MJ only to her friends and the fiancée of Peter Stark, the heir of Stark Industries, was stirring her tea with a dainty hand while the other pointed at available dates in her planner.

Their elaborate planning was disrupted by a booking voice. The man, seemingly Peter's age, sat across them, a warm and homely aura arriving with him.

“Stark, man! You’re in LA and didn’t call? But then, how can anyone compete with you?”The man smiled at Peter and Michelle. Peter, who perked up mildly, as much as his controlled expression would allow, and replied, “Michelle, meet Ned Leeds. My best friend since 5th grade. Ned, my fiancée, Michelle.”He introduced the two strangers.

“Congratulations, and my sympathies, Michelle. You are marrying a work machine."Ned joked. He then faced Peter and added, "Still, great that you’re finally settling down. God knows how I would have tolerated you, alone and lonely at 75.Anyway, I have a business meet in five minutes. I saw you here and thought that maybe we could catch up. Call me later, Peter, and nice to meet you, Michelle.”Ned bid a good day and left the soon-to-be married couple together.

“He’s really sweet.”Michelle smiled.

“Yes.” Peter replied, lost in old memories.

X-X-X

“Look, if you want to marry some boring doctor or banker, I won’t attend that marriage. Now if you manage to snag someone who is adventurous and charming just like you, that would be a match made in heaven."

“Nobody stays, Steve.” She remembered the various times she had been dumped on pretense of being ‘too loud, not simple enough, not having a control on her tongue' etc. She frowned and looked down at her chicken.

“Don’t take old breakups to heart kiddo." Bucky joined in the conversation."Besides, those fools weren’t good enough for you. You see, your good luck will just start.” After Steve and his daughter had moved to the US, he had met James “Call me Bucky” Barnes, with a prosthetic arm and one hell of an attitude. Steve fell for it like a ton of bricks, of course.

"You mother would have beaten all your ex-boyfriends to pulp." Steve joked.

(Y/N) laughed. "Yeah, she would have also put a lot more of an effort to find me a guy, now that I have my dream job."

"So you're saying that I should put more efforts?" Steve glanced at her hopefully.

"She probably trying to tell you that she can handle these things when they come her way, punk."

"Shut up, jerk."

(Y/N)and Sam exchanged glances and merely shook their heads at the couple's antics.

Glossary:

bajade unki : Literally, blow them up. It's slang for “best of luck”

husband toh chodho: Leave a husband, (here it means leave a husband, you haven’t even found a boyfriend)

A/N:

So a note about why Steve can speak Hindi. According to this canon, he moved to India and married Reader’s mother. They lived in India for 10 years, where he picked up the language and culture. After his wife’s death, he moved back to the US with his daughter, where he married Bucky.

#Peter parker x reader #marvel imagine #indian! reader #spiderman x reader #marvel au #Billionaire au!#physiotherapy #peter paker #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #Peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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everpeasant · 3 years

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Future Inclinations

His words rang through my head. “What is your biggest regret?” The words bounced around my skull, becoming distorted, contorted, and then he retorted. “Hey, you still there man? It’s been like a minute if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.” He continued to stare at me as I struggle to spit out my words.

“No, I am out of the house anyway. I should probably open up a bit.” I slowly looked up, meeting his eyes, they are full of energy. I don’t know what it is, but Charles always is full of energy. Drugs? I don’t think so, his eyes aren’t bloodshot. They are crimson red, which is somewhat terrifying, but that isn’t the point. His words would continue to morph “What did you do?”, “Why did you do it?”, then finally into “You want to bring them back don’t you?” Why is a coworker asking questions like that, to me of all people? I was the loner, I didn’t cause trouble, I didn’t even talk to him really. Why was he interested in me, why did he invite me out? Is he just a nice guy trying to build me up, is he gay, does he want to rob me too?

“I had some trouble years ago with some bad men,” I say in a soft voice. “They were convinced that I owed them money, but I paid everything off! I shouldn’t have even taken it in the first place. I shouldn’t have taken the money…” I whisper to Charles, but really to myself.

Charles looks dumbfounded, he signals for the bartender to pour us a shot. “Hey man, I didn’t know I was talking to a walking logline for some b-movie”. We clink our shot glasses together and swig down the bitter gin. “What you need the money for anyway? You a gambler, like the ladies, maybe a senator’s son who lost his inheritance?”

As I finished cleaning out the peanut bowl set in front of me, I glance over for a moment. In the clouded mess that was my mind, I sludged through memories of pain and suffering, of mine, and of… I couldn’t get myself to say their names. “No, nothing like that.” I say weakly, “My wife and I needed to pay for medical bills, for the baby.”

“I didn’t know you had a wife and kid.”

I squint at the shell of a peanut that I was fidgeting with. “You wouldn’t. These bad men ran them off the road a couple of years back. To get to me, to send a message, the only message that I got was that my life was over. A worthless life. To have all of this hope for the future snuffed out in an instant is the most excruciating thing in the world.” I reached into my bag and pulled out a small purple plush octopus, its eyes are teared, and charred, some legs are missing, with a stained dark crimson on the mouth. “This was my daughters. She would bring this octopus everywhere with her, its name was Scylla, like the Kraken, I would always read my daughter Greek Mythology. I found this at the crash site. She was still holding it. My wife was only alive long enough to look me in the eyes, she held our daughter.”

Charles signaled for the bartender to leave the bottle for us. “You blame yourself then? I mean you think it's your fault.”

I turned to him, Charles reaches over the bar and takes two-pint glasses, fills one for him and one he pours and offers to me. I hesitate but take it. “I do. I killed the only two people that mattered to me in this world. I don’t even want to look at myself in the morning.” I take a swig.

“When was this?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“When did the accident happen?”

“May 3rd, 2018,” I say a little standoffish.

Charles gets up and finishes his glass. “Well, I gotta go piss, I’ll be right back.”

I nod to him as he walks away. That amount of alcohol should have killed him. Charles is a weird guy, although he can probably handle his drink, as for me I don’t want to pass out in an alleyway. I poured a little over half of my gin back into the bottle. I never really have had someone to talk to about this. Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to a therapist, I clearly am emotionally distraught about this.

Charles makes his way from the bathroom back to his seat. “Now don’t be mad.”

What would I be mad about? “What do you mean?”

He pulls Scylla out of his pocket, it is in pristine condition, just as my daughter had it. “I stole your daughters’ toy.”

I reach into my bag and the toy is gone. “What did you do? How did you fix it? Why did you-?”

“Nothing like that my friend. I did nothing except step through a wormhole I produced in the bathroom.”

“Is that some type of gross way to talk about you pooping?”

“No. I just…” Charles sighs “I am a time traveler. I literally took this from your daughter. The accident still happened; I just took this from your house the morning of.”

I sit still I feel like I have been violated. “No that’s not possible.”

“Felt that way for a little bit. I forgot to ask where you lived, took me several loops to find the right place. I remembered that you could look up who owns a property through a library database, thank god they have that.”

“But this can't be real, you must have bought a new toy. But why would you do that? Are you trying to fuck with me!” People start to stare at us.

Charles comes closer. “Listen, I am not monstrous enough to do something like that. Also, when would I have the ability to go get this exact toy, along with steal the one that you had?”

“You think that time travel makes more logical sense than getting a new toy and sleight of hand?”

“Well, I was never any good at sleight of hand. I am more used to time travel, so It's not too farfetched for me.”

I stand up and grab his coattails and drag him to the bathroom. He struggles. I kicked open the door and threw him to the ground. “Hey what are you doing!” Charles says rubbing his head.

“What the hell are you talking about?! You're a time traveler? You can go back in time and change things huh? Why are you lying to me, what are you getting out of this!?”

“I can prove it to you. Umm um um um… I can bring any famous person here, to prove it. Would that do it?”

“Anyone huh? Bring me, Socrates.”

“Well… that'd be kind of hard since he doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like you say that a lot. Socrates was made up by Plato, and Plato was made up by Aristotle. Kind of a crazy story that one. Aristotle was trying to hit on this lady, but he was a pretty lowly philosopher. No name for himself, so he made one. He made up this sort of lineage of great philosophers that he descended from. It really is quite interesting.”

“Sure, I believe you. That sounds totally true. Okay, Why don’t you bring me Lincoln?”

“Yeah, sure give me a minute.” He walks into the stall and goes to close the door, I eyeballed him. “What I can’t do it if you are watching.”

The door closed; I rolled my eyes. A large flash blinds me as my hair shoots straight up. Wind circles around the bathroom sending paper towels, and toilet paper careening any which way. Trying to recuperate myself I pat down my hair and call for Charles. I get no response. I peek through the slot in the stall to try to see if he is there, fully expecting to be ridiculed for doing so, yet nothing. No ironic 50s horror movie woman scream, no tirade about personal boundaries, nothing. Charles was gone. The door was still locked. I looked around and saw no window that he could sneak out of. Could this be real? I thought.

That’s when a flash of light emerges, wind resumes its hectic tirade. The chaos dies down leaving me startled again. The stall door opens and out steps Charles in a Sergeant’s uniform followed by a tall man with a tall black top hat. His face is friendly but confused. “Where are we Sergeant Geller? I don’t know how we got in this Lavoratory, but it is dandy!”

I stared dumbfounded at the Former/Current President. Still trying to deny my eyes I ask Charles, “How on earth did you do that? How did you get this actor in here without me noticing?”

“Actor?” replies Lincoln

“Don’t say such things! President Lincoln here hates actors.”

“No, I do not.” Says the president.

“Well maybe you should,” Charles says as he ushers the president back into the stall. “Say goodbye to the President.”

I wave bye to Lincoln, still not fully believing what has happened to me. The light, the wind, it all returns. Charles walks out of the stall rather confidently. “Eh? Eh?” Charles spreads his arms apart. “What’d I tell you? Time fuggin traveler!”

“Was that Lincoln?”

“Honestly, just assume that I’m telling the truth at this point, it is starting to get annoying. Of course, it was Lincoln.”

“I need a second to breathe, this is all too much.”

“Sure thing. Hey while you’re waiting how about you pick if you want to bring your wife, or your daughter back to life.”

“Huh?”

“Who lives who dies, oldest trick and the book, right next to the ol’ stab em and rob em, that one’s, my favorite.”

“I don’t care about any of that! You can bring them back?”

“Only one. I kind of have this project I am working on, and I needed a test group.”

Rage fills my eyes, the next thing I know I am flying through the air, tackling Charles to the ground. “What do you mean only one!? You sick bastard, are you going to make me choose?! This is just some fucking experiment to you!”

“Well yes-” My fist decks Charles in the face. He starts to bleed from his nose a little bit. He tries to move his jaw. “-ow. Listen man my hands are tied, and not because you’re pinning them. The people I work for are having me do this.”

“We work for the same people!”

“You know you can have 2 jobs, right? Clearly not, otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed the mon-”, my punch lands on the other cheek. “-Fine that one was called for. I can’t bring back more than 1 person at a time. Trust me it gets messy if you do more than 1. Just give it some thought. Who do you want back the most?”

I let go of Charles. He looked relieved. Tears began to pour from my eyes. I ran to the stall to have privacy. “Wait not that one!” I slam the stall door and start to bawl. “It was just a joke… relax.”

What the hell is going on? Time travel? That is something that only happens in hacky movies that don’t know how to get out of a situation. But in real life? Oh my god! Do I have to choose? The love of my life? Or my precious daughter? I love Clarisse so much, she was the best woman a man could have asked for. She stood up for herself through any bullshit, even my own. She would make me a better person every day. Her laugh brought light to every room. I could use some light in my life right now. But Iris… my sweet daughter, I needed to protect her, and I failed… She would always wake me up early on the weekends and ask me to play with her, read her the Iliad, or make her favorite Chocolate Blueberry Pancakes. Those moments may have been the happiest of my life, raising my daughter to be the person she would turn into. Would… I sighed. I miss them both so much. I want them both back, but I can’t have that. Dark thoughts entered my mind, it was as if I was a whale, speared, hooks in deep, pulling at the barbs only making it more painful. Clarisse… I want you back. But I know you would never forgive me if I saved you instead of our sweet Iris. She has such a bright future. I hope you will forgive me.

I sit on the toilet, my eyes red, rubbed to the point of blistering. I am unable to cry more. I must accept fate, or reverse fate in this case. Struggling to my feet I push my hands to the side of the stall for support. My hand is placed next to a drawing of Kilroy, along with the quote “‘Sometimes, you have to step outside of the person you've been and remember the person you were meant to be. The person you want to be. The person you are.’ ― H.G. Wells”. I open the door and slowly make my way to Charles. Standing above, I look him in the eyes and say, “Save my daughter, oh please dear god save Iris!” He looks at me, no quirky remark, he only nods. Blood still drips from his nose, covering his shirt. It looks like he used the wrist of his Sergeant’s uniform to clean blood from his face. He enters the stall and the bright flash and wind return. I stand nervously, not knowing how to feel. Was I mad? Was I glad? Panic set its sights upon me as the flash of light returned.

#My writing #My Story #creative writing #writing #short story #original story #time travel #fiction #abe lincoln

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jasoningram · 4 years

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How To Cure Premature Ejaculation And Erectile Dysfunction And Last For 1 Hour Top Useful Ideas

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#How To Cure Premature Ejaculation And Erectile Dysfunction And Last For 1 Hour Top Useful Ideas #Prem

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kimberlycook95 · 4 years

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Save Relationship Reddit Wonderful Ideas

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nyruratchet · 5 years

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Notes 5 - It’s Been A While

This is not the life I though I’d have. I had so many plans. But life has been stolen. I’m sitting here my bed, in a tiny NYC room that I pay way too much for, with a roommate next door who takes me for granted, and bills staring me in the face every which way I turn.

I did everything I was supposed to. Every damned thing that was asked of me and I ended up HERE. I wanted to be a performer, but my parents didn’t support me going to California or Rutgers right out of High School to pursue my passion. This was very selfish on their part and I think I will carry resentment for that until the day I die. Because I will never ever know what could have been. But I own my part in that decision. I could have defied them, sure; been “cut-off” (from what I’m still trying to figure out...we still have no money). But instead, I did what they wanted and ended up nowhere and with nothing to show for my obedience...but I digress.

Sorry, it has been a minute since I last wrote. I had started dating someone and...actually thought again if I put all my effort into it, that finally there would be fruits of my labor. Again, life gave me a big fuck you. Why didn’t it work? I chased him far longer than I should have. I accepted far too little from him in return for what I was willing to give. Distance was an issue, but it could have been bearable had he been able to meet me halfway. He’s a good person. Just has lots of growing up to do. He will get there though; but without me. So, it didn’t fit and I cried SO much until I realized I didn't love him and I wasn’t ever going to. Aint that some shit; finally a guy “wants’” to date me and I’m the one who has to end it. I guess the first try is always destined to be a failure?

I posted recently about my role in friendships. YES, I know I have been MIA. But if you don’t understand why I’ve been physically non-present...I don’t know what to tell you. I try my damndest to respond to all texts; but sometimes my mind doesn’t allow it to happen. This year has hit me SO much harder than I thought possible. Therefore, all my energy has been put into staying alive. Now, don’t be afraid of me saying that. I’m not looking to end my life. But when life keeps dragging you beneath the current and you keep rising enough to barely catch a tiny breath before being plunged into the fathoms below once more, you begin to wonder if you should just go with that flow and let it carry you away. Talk to someone? Been there, done that. Doesn’t help me. My problems are tangible. Money, Career, Love. Period. Scheduled venting sessions offer me no resolution. I entered myself into therapy in college. Went on for 4 years until it was no longer covered. Then when I got on employment a few years later in NYC, I resumed for another year hoping maybe someone else could help me figure out why I’m so miserable. 4 therapists/counselors later...nothing. So, I stopped paying the mere $30 copay there was (which was still a struggle because I was on food stamps as it is; still pursuing my dream to be on Broadway and become a recording artist) and went on with trying to at least solve one of my problems...money. So, I got a job instead of being a starving artist.

Inflight crewmember with JB. FML. Why did I do this to myself? I did. I was in a bad place and things got a bit better but now I’m worse off. Mo money, mo problems?? HARDLY. Money would solve most of my problems right now.

Rent. Utilities. Food (I make too much to be on food stamps no...so says the gov’t). Mental Health. Music...

Oh my music...So, I told you all I would explain more on why good artists struggle to get GOOD music out. Here goes my attempt:

1. Write music: doing this on your “off-time” from working for someone else’s business is exhausting. But if you love it and are driven, you can do it. I have many songs that I have written tired as shit after my redeyes. I’m actually a beast at catchy melodies, lyrics, and vocal harmonies.

2. Purchase equipment/software: Home studios or some type of set-up is pretty much a necessity. I need to have song fully imagined so the producer and technicians know the progression when recording and building the song. (Mic-$80, Logic X pro-$200, Studio Headphones: ~$100, Pop filter: ~$20, New computer: (varies, but given that I’ve had computers crash etc. I’ll tell the most recent price) $2500,

3. Find a producer: So...unless you have magical fingers and can play instruments, the next step is finding a talented producer to do your backing track/orchestration. And good producers need to be PAID by the hour for a custom production. (~$25-50/hr) OR you can purchase exclusive rights to a already produced beat for a for ~$150...but even those can get pricey.

4. Book a studio: So, if you’re doing an original song you will definitely need multiple studio sessions. For one song I worked on, I spent about $700 dollars for 3 sessions only 3-4hrs long each.

5. Proper mixing/mastering: there are online services that can do quick mastering. LANDR cost me $15/month. But when I’m doing original music, that needs professional mastering/mixing. What does that mean? More time for you or an audio engineer you trust to be in a studio. So, depending on who/where that is...lets say ~$25-75/hr (good mixing will take a few hours at least on the first sit down.

6. Song is done. What’s next? Promotion...see where this is going? Social media. You need photos/artwork which its own separate expense if you don’t do your own. And then if you aren't yourself a IG/Twitter/Snap influencer with 20K followers, you need to pay them to post your song so people give a shit to even listen let alone PURCHASE your art on iTunes/Amazon/Tidal/Soundcloud. And influencers/promotion services charge HUNDREDS. So, when I beg and plead my friends to SHARE, LIKE and post I’m doing so because I need your help. I can’t ever afford good promotion.

7. Release Music: You have to pay to release your music on streaming/music services ~$40. They then take a percentage of sales from each platform.

Now, your ONE song is out. Lets say a couple thousand people streamed the song for free on Spotify or Pandora. How much you think an artist gets? Well, lets put it this way. I’ve done a few songs and have seen no money. I’m literally hemorrhaging money just to do something I love. But that forces me to do more of what I hate is being a flight attendant. Why don't I do something else? Oh honey, trust me...I’ve been working since I was 15. Dont you think I’m looking? I’ve been looking and brainstorming. Nothing is looking good. So, yes I know I’m the only one who can get myself out of a situation I don’t like. But it is beyond me right now. But I DO wake up each day hoping I find SOME way to make a change. But I do fear I will reach the point of hopelessness fairly soon; and the point is different than the braking point aforementioned.

So, I was doing all of this music creation on top of a depressing dating experience and roommate issues AND job related stress. I’m honestly not sure how I’m alive. I’m not suicidal but at one point I contemplated calling a hotline to see exactly what they are trained to do should I reach the braking point. I didn’t do it. I cried myself to sleep again; rolled out of bed the next day to go to work as so many adults do. I KNOW I’m not the only one struggling. But when your lot in life feels like a mistake and loneliness is staring you in the face every day you are “blessed” to open your eyes, you keep asking yourself (well, I keep asking Myself...) Why the FUCK am I here? No one (on the grand scheme of things) is paying attention my music and guys literally seemed repulsed when I express interest. I’m know I’m supposed to matter but, this world keeps telling me otherwise. So, yeah...sorry, it has been a while. But without music, I guarantee I’d be gone by now. Guess we’ll see how long this will last.

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oumaimaoriflame · 5 years

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What Makes Up A Competent Massage Manhattan NYC Professional http://bit.ly/2Ia1KEj

By Kimberly Sullivan

Get something you enjoy doing if you want to make a lucrative income. Identify how to make your services or products unique to win more clients. Reflexology field has streamlined over the years with new experts making their way into the industry. Clients have also learned the importance of the activity and are looking for professionals to offer it to them. The current customers are after quality and not necessarily the quantity of a service or commodity. They are willing to pay even high prices to receive the services they want. They have more information about the existence of different experts in the field. They are using recommendations and internet to get these details. When joining the sector, you need to ensure you have the competency and resources to satisfy the already informed clients. Read more in this article on the traits you ought to possess to work in a massage Manhattan NYC firm. Master the right communication styles to implement when holding a conversation with a customer. Listen to their preferences as you pay attention to the demands raised. Give them enough time to talk about the pain and discomfort they might be having. Put your listening abilities to work. Maintain eye contact and observe their body language. Use simple terms when describing acupuncture methods right for them. You should possess brilliant decision-making abilities. Most of the people coming to your outlet do not know what they need. For instance, the client might talk about the hurting body parts, but they could not know the acupuncture type that will work best for them. As a therapist, you must have detailed information about the various options that will fit them. Empathy is a state where you relate to what your client is feeling. The trait is important since you will put yourself in their shoe when choosing a relaxing method. This helps you to understand the kind of pain and discomfort the individual might be going through. Talk to the customers on a personal level to establish a level of trust. Information is shared in a reflexology session. People communicate about their pain and discomfort area. Some of these details could be personal and must not be shared with other parties. Anything you hear from your clientele should remain in that room. Letting it out could lead to customers not trusting you. It must not be discussed even with your colleagues. Stamina and strength are part of your job. Completing a reflexology session requires you to use a lot of energy. Working on muscles and tissues is an energy consuming act. Employers should have a refreshing room where therapists go to take a cup of milk or a glass of juice. Refresh after attending to every client to remain energized and maintain your stamina. Ability to manage your time is necessary. Many facilities have sessions lasting for around 50 minutes. You must learn to pace the activity to ensure you complete it within the set time. Clients should receive the entire service within the allotted time. Work on becoming a professional. Take a certified course in this industry to acquire the needed skills. Your coursework will cover both theoretical and practical concepts. Training institutions invite people where you have to work on them. A supervisor will take you through different relaxation methods using diagrams, explanations, and real examples. The class goes for less than one year.

About the Author:

Get an overview of the factors to consider before picking a massage Manhattan NYC therapist and more information about a knowledgeable therapist at http://bit.ly/2IDMSwH now.

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youcantunringthebell · 5 years

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Husband’s posts pissing you off? Block him. (Or how we got the ol’ marital bait-and-switch and still renewed our vows.)

Within the last month, I have shouted the following sentence at my husband: “If I actually DO ever die of cancer, I am BEGGING YOU to please marry someone who shares your belief system instead of tricking some other nice liberal woman into marrying you and MAKING HER CRAZY.”

Was it overly dramatic? Possibly. Do I regret it? Certainly. Will it happen again? Obviously.

Our problem dates back to the Nov. 4, 2008, presidential election. We early voted, because we would be on our honeymoon cruise on Election Day. I remember very clearly standing in line at the Madison, Tennessee, public library with Jeffrey, who was wearing a Barack Obama T-shirt. We were absolutely giddy to be casting a vote for our first black president. We joined the Obama election party on our cruise, tearfully hugging strangers as the results rolled in.

At the time of our marriage, we had similar ideas about food, vaccinations, climate change ... or at least I thought so. Then Jeffrey went on a rant against the medical profession on his Facebook page. They’re in league with Big Pharma, he wrote, and invested in keeping people sick. A nurse friend texted me about it: “Um, did you see what your husband just put on Facebook?”

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked him. “We have tons of friends who are doctors and nurses. Do you honestly think they’re invested in keeping us sick? You should take that down.”

He took that post down but ultimately posted 10 more just like it. He started posting anti-Obama rhetoric and backing Ron Paul. He posted anti-vaxxer memes and wrote about “chemtrails.” His diet became more and more stringent: everything had to be organic, but it wasn’t just that. One day, a certain brand of organic cracker might be OK, but it wasn’t the next because of something he’d read about an ingredient. Unchurched when we met, he joined a congregation in the Messianic Judaism faith, never missing a service. (I’m a Presbyterian.)

We fought and fought. I felt betrayed, disappointed and embarrassed, and his posts infuriated me. I asked him to at least make them private instead of public. He didn’t. Friends still texted with, “Did you see what Jeffrey just posted on Facebook?”

Honestly, we almost got divorced over it four years in, but we agreed to try marriage counseling before ending things. I was so ready to have the therapist back me up and tell him how wrong he’d been to hide his real views. That’s not what happened. The entire blame for our marital problems went to me.

Surprised? I sure was. So let me save you $500 in therapy co-pays.

Turns out that most couples have less than 50 percent of their ideals in common. There’s a chemical in your brain when you’re falling in love that makes you say stupid shit like, “We’re so alike. I mean, we come from different places, but our VALUES are the same. He’s perfect for me.” I actually said those things. My friends will attest to how difficult it was to keep their eyeballs from doing a 360 back into their heads and to the front again, because they could easily determine from spending 10 minutes with us that we were nothing alike. But they also weren’t getting dick on the regular after having it doled out like government cheese from a gay husband for 10 years, so EXCUSE ME FOR LIVING.

That chemical wears off about two years into the marriage, and then the scales fall from your eyes and you see who you’ve actually married. At that point, you have a choice: trade or stick. If you trade, you’ll just meet some other person, the chemical will kick in again, the scales will fall and you potentially will repeat the cycle. If you stick, you can live out the highest purpose of marriage: to work out the shit you brought into it and go through life with a teammate. For instance, part of the shit I brought in was my family’s insistence that everybody think alike or hit the road. And as much as I hated being a victim of their approach, damn if I didn’t carry that right out of the family unit with me and spend years either people-pleasing to keep friendships or amputating them, depending on how much I valued the person or how bad they pissed me off. I didn’t know how to love people in their diversity of opinions.

And maybe JJ really did like Obama for that first election, as evidenced by the t-shirt, but he changed his mind. People get to do that. And thanks to JJ being right here in our home, I get to figure out that not everybody thinks like I do, and we can disagree and still love each other.

(Fortunately, he voted for Johnson and not Trump in the last election, so we didn’t have to test just how much I’ve self-actualized around this topic.)

Anyway, I tell newlyweds that, two to four years in, they’re probably going to get furious with each other. When that happens, DON’T BE SCARED. Embrace it as an opportunity to shed those ideas you brought into the marriage that don’t serve you anymore. Get some counseling. I know a lady. She would say that you could pretty much pick a spouse at random and, if you are both good people, willing to listen and grow, you can make a marriage work.

Now, when my friends come to me complaining about something JJ posted on Facebook, I say, “Block him. That’s what I did.” When we go to someone’s house and they want to know what he eats so they can try and match his diet, I say, “Even I’m not consistently able to do that. He will bring his own food.” Is it weird? Obviously. But it isn’t their marriage, it’s mine, and this is the kind of healthy detachment and individualism that make it work. He influenced my eating for the better, I expanded his world through travel, we both make each other laugh like crazy. We love our little home, our little dogs, our little lives. And, finally, I can say I love JJ.

I’ve also figured out that, when I lose my mind on him as recounted at the beginning of this post, I can offer a genuine apology and try harder next time, because there’s a kind and loving way to disagree ... and that wasn’t it.

BELOW: Our vow renewal for our 10th wedding anniversary. He bought a low-glycemic, vegan cake. I loved it.

P.S. OK. So for those of you who made it this far, I’m going to offer a bonus from our marriage counseling. Our disagreements got so bad, it affected our sex life and led to performance issues on one side and poorly expressed frustration on the other side. I won’t say who was who, but I will say this ...

STOP DECIDING THAT A HEALTHY SEX LIFE IS WHAT THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY SAYS IT SHOULD BE.

A healthy sex life is any physicality that brings the two of you closer together. It’s not a hard this and a wet that and Tab A into Slot B and a certain number of nights per week and a failure if there’s no orgasm. (If you think about it, that approach is a little narrow-minded, because doesn’t even take in the lovely variety of gender and sexual orientation surrounding us in this world.) Things finally got better between us when I was able to believe that, if we decided to wear each other’s underpants and turn backflips under the light of the full moon, and it brought us close together, THAT WAS OUR SEX LIFE. And guess what? We never had to do that. But we talked more, we accepted more, and one day, things looked a little more like the Hollywood version, and that’s nice, too.

#marriage #marriagecounseling #married

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mrs-bartowski · 7 years

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I was tagged by: @tryingtofindmyplacetoscream thanks buddy :)

The last 1. drink: sweet tea 2. phone call: I missed a call from my best friend (one of five best friends) just a little bit ago, but I talked to my dad earlier today...which reminds me I was supposed to call and let him know I got home so thanks for reminding me! 3. text message: my best friend (Mimi specifically) 4. song you listened to: I listened to the radio on the way home so something country (maybe body like a back road?) but I was listening to deh earlier (dear evan hansen in case you live under a rock) 5. time you cried: I don’t cry. jk it was yesterday

Have you ever 6. dated someone twice: nah 7. kissed someone and regretted it: not at the time 8. been cheated on: not that I know of 9. lost someone special: yep. 10. been depressed: leave me alone. 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: uh I got barely drunk and then ate a bunch of tater tots once and then threw up because of the tater tots so kinda? 3 favorite colors 12. turquoise 13. light green 14. purple In the last year have you: 15. made new friends: yes, a few. at least I hope they consider me a friend 16. fallen out of love: lol I fuckin wish 17. laughed until you cried: yep, yesterday. when asked about how the funeral my grandmother went to was, she replied with “well, he’s dead”, so there was that. 18. found out someone was talking about you: not behind my back or anything...I’m not interesting enough for that 19. met someone who changed you: not like wildly, but a lot of new people have helped me grow in little ways 20. found out who your friends are: somewhat yeah 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: in my dreams lol same General: 22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: a small percentage of them, or at least I don’t really know them anymore 23. do you have any pets: a dog that lives with my sister and a cat that lives with my other sister but I’m taking my cat back at the end of the month and she’s gonna live in my apartment along with a bird...it’ll be an interesting year 24. do you want to change your name: nah not really 25. what did you do for your last birthday: suffered. 26. what time did you wake up: 3 am even though I never really fell asleep but I slept in the car so it’s all good 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: watching The Bold Type (or maybe Stitchers? I wasn’t really paying attention to the time) 28. name something you can’t wait for: pitch perfect 3 in December cuz I’m complete trash 31. what are you listening to right now: nothing but I might turn on Halsey in a bit 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: literally ten minutes ago (my dad’s name is Tom and I wanted to call him before I forgot) 33. something that is getting on your nerves: my student loan 34. most visited website: tumblr 35. hair color: light brown 36. long or short hair: short 39. piercings: just my ears which, by some miracle or curse have not closed up yet (I haven’t worn earrings since I was 12) 40. blood type: fuck if I know 41. nicknames: too many to count but most frequently Rosie 42. relationship status: lol single as always 43. zodiac: libra 44. pronouns: she/her 45. favourite tv show: The Bold Type is fucking phenomenal 46. tattoos: none yet but i want to have a lot and I have like 7 designed and ready to go I’m just broke as fuck 47. right or left handed: right 48. surgery: I had a mole with pre-cancerous cells removed from my back when I was 12 or 13 49. piercing: still just the ears since I haven’t gone to get anything pierced in the last 2 minutes 50. sport: I just quit field hockey so none anymore 51. vacation: Destin, FL. 4th of July water gun war. It was epic. 52. pair of trainers: I also don’t understand this question? I don’t call them trainers but I have three pairs of sneakers

More general: 53. eating: Nothing right now but I ate a cinnamon raisin bagel a few hours ago. 54. drinking: also nothing right now. 55. i’m about to: finish my laundry and (hopefully if I don’t have to pay for my ticket) go see a movie 56. waiting for: my laundry to dry 57. want: sleep preferably permanent 58. get married: maybe 59. career: physical therapist

Which is better: 60. hugs or kisses: definitely both 61. lips or eyes: eyes 62. shorter or taller: uhhh either 63. older or younger: older (though it’s more of a maturity thing so who knows) 64. nice arms or nice stomach: all stomachs and all arms are nice 65. hook up or relationship: relationship 66. troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

Have you ever: 67. kissed a stranger: nope 68. drank hard liquor: yup. wish I was drinking it now. 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: ugh yes 70. turned someone down: lol you’re funny that require someone wanting to be with me 71. sex on the first date: nope (no sex at all) 72. broken someone’s heart: he didn’t make it seem like it, but who the hell knows 73. had your heart broken: lol basically always 74. been arrested: nope. 75. cried when someone died: yeah. 76. fallen for a friend: again, leave me alone.

Do you believe in: 77. yourself: fuck off. 78. miracles: not really. 79. love at first sight: eh. 80. santa claus: no. 81. kiss on the first date: yeah sure 82. angels: not really sure

Other: 83. current best friend’s name: I guess this is where I list all 5? Mimi, Ev, Kylie, Emilie, and Aubrie 84. eye colour: blue when they feel like it 85. favourite movie: it’s been a tie between Twister and 50 First Dates my entire life, but I honestly think Wonder Woman might have destroyed them both. (plus I fuckin love pitch perfect but I could never choose a favorite)

I still don’t tag people, so do it if you want!

#about me #ask game

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