#Or cans that people forget to put in the can recycling cause that messes with my brain lol

[saturdaymournings]

can’t tell if I’m happy or not tbh but something is up in my brain and it’s crazy shit. Like I’m not even stressed about the stressy I’m just. Vibes

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Trying To Derail My One Track Mind

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Part 1/2 Life was simple, till you met your boss.

Word Count: 3,300

No warnings till part 2

You wake up to see sun rays peeking through the curtains. Rolling over to face your fiancé you smile at his sleeping form, he looks so peaceful. Too bad you have to go to work and couldn’t just stay like this with him.

You would lie in bed all day with him, if that’s what he wanted. You reach out and pet his beard, pecking his lips before you get up to get ready for work.

You threw on your recycled outfit. Discerning no difference between the black skirt and white button up you wore yesterday. You pull on the dreaded pantyhose that were required for your uniform. Black or tan, you couldn’t express yourself at all.

You look in the mirror, tightly pulling your hair into a high ponytail, leaving out a strand to wrap around the elastic. Makeup was allowed, and recommended during your orientation. Guests prefer being hosted by someone who looks put together.

You work in the kitchen, managing the cooks and wait staff. Sometimes it felt like a real restaurant, and you dreamed of having your own one day. But with the pay you get from the manor, you won’t be following that dream anytime soon.

You give your fiancé one last kiss before you leave. Breakfast is served at 8am, so that means you should be in the kitchen by 6. Most of the people renting it out stroll in well after 9.

You always have to remake half of what you’ve already prepared, with a smile. The owner didn’t care about costs, or you. You never met him, just talked over the phone weekly.

You remember bringing up the food waste after a month of working. He laughed and said “It doesn’t matter what time I serve breakfast, they will find a way to be late. They’re paying, they know they have the luxury to be late.”.

Maybe he was one of them. He sure sounded like it. Like he agreed that money lets you by with things. The people that eat at your table get by with far more than you could imagine at the manor. You’ve been told more than once not to mention a thing that happens inside these walls.

Screams and gunshots have been heard. Guests walking around naked in masquerade masks. One guest brought his own meat, insisted on preparing it himself for everyone. You never saw anything like it, it wasn’t pork, beef, or venison, it reminded you of that page in your biology textbook with the skinless human body.

You don’t like to think about what happened before. The only way you can go back is to forget what happened the day before. You never felt fear, you couldn’t describe it. Like you were apprehensive of every new face you met, but they never snapped their fingers at you. You were never in the room when you heard fights happening, your staff was always well on their way home before dessert finished.

You stayed till the last dish was clean. They’re notified when all the staff goes home, because then there’s no one to wait on them. The bells in the kitchen fall on no ears at all. Leading no one to see which room is ringing.

You saw when they began to turn rowdy. Their drinks from dinner finally hitting them. Drunken debates often broke out, causing the last remaining person on staff to clean up broken glass and wine stains. They were always apologetic and moved the argument to a different room, leaving you alone to clean up their mess.

You sped down the country road, you were running late, today is New Year’s Eve, meaning you’d be staying the night here. You tried to go home last year, but you only spent an hour in bed with your fiancé before you had to return for breakfast.

The owner didn’t care that you had a personal life. Telling you no when you asked to take your paid leave, you told him your fiancé planned the trip as a surprise. Causing him to scoff and deny you again. You knew you should’ve quit then, but you didn’t know what would happen to you if you did. You knew too much, and the mysterious owner was a dick, so you didn’t want to test it.

Pulling down the gravel driveway you park behind the house. Entering through the backdoor that only you have a key to. You prepared for the day, making it easier for your cooks when the guest start ordering things.

The day goes by normally, like there wasn’t a party planned for the night. The owner got it catered by this famous new chef, who wouldn’t be arriving till dinner. You had to wait to be ordered around your own kitchen. The guys French accent was so thick you couldn’t understand a word he said.

Somehow you pulled it together, and your servers were carting out a stuffed bird you’d never heard of. These guests might be the fanciest of any that darkened the doorstep of the manor. They held their heads high, and drank wine that was imported in a big wooden crate you broke a nail opening.

They laughed about politics, and argued pharmaceuticals. You’re about to return to the kitchen when the front of the house man, Bruce, approaches you. “Mr. Barnes will be here at 9. He asked that you be in the library when he gets here.”. He gives you a tight lipped smile, leaving you before you have a chance to respond.

You’ve worked here for two years and the night he decides to meet you is your busiest night. You groan as you walk into the packed kitchen. Dishes being tossed into the sink and metal skillets scrapping the stove causes you sensory overload. You’re already irritated and it’s only 7.

When 9 hits, you decide nows the time you should make your way to the library. You didn’t have time to wait around for him, that kitchen would burn down without you, especially tonight.

When you get there, the doors already cracked open, and there’s a glow of lamplight emitting from it. There’s a man standing with his back to you. “Mr. Barnes?” You ask, not sure since the man seemed younger than you expected.

“You’re late.” He says, you roll your eyes, as if this was planned. “I was busy.” You curtly respond. Taking this as a chance to get off your feet, you sit in the velvet chair across the desk. He turns around once you’ve made yourself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other.

He’s handsome, and like you said, way younger than you expected. He has dark blue eyes, the kind that make a girl act a fool. They had no effect on you though, since all you were focused on is your fiancé. You didn’t really look at other men that way, you could admit when they were attractive, but nothing more. You’re better than that.

He sits down opposite of you, unbuttoning his jacket. “So I’ve been going over your monthly reports. You’re meticulous, you know that?” He gives you a genuine smile. It broke down your wall, filling you with pride at the compliment. “Thank you, I try.” You look down at your hands, picking at your broken nail.

“I know you must be busy with the party and Francois in your kitchen,” he says, causing you to raise your eyebrows. He called it your kitchen, you’re happy the two of you are in agreement. ”, so I don’t want to keep you long. I just thought I should finally meet the person keeping this house afloat.”. You take his compliments like knives. You don’t know if he means them, but you find yourself hoping he does. Causing a pang of guilt to hit you.

Why should you care if another man complimented you. You’re engaged to marry the best guy you could ever ask for. You force the blush down, not letting him see any effect he has on you, you don’t want to give the wrong idea. “If that was all, I think I should be going, like we both said, I’m busy.” You stand up, brushing down your black skirt as you do.

“Of course.” He ignores your attitude, standing to escort you out of the room. You give him a weird look, you know where the door is. “Before you leave tonight I’d like to speak to you again about a pay raise, maybe even a promotion.”.

You stop at the door and turn around and he’s only a foot away from you. You can smell the expensive cologne rolling off him, it almost makes you dizzy. “I’m actually staying tonight.” He seems surprised. “Yeah, it’s just, after I finish closing up the kitchen it will be 2, and it’s almost an hour drive home. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep before work tomorrow.”.

“Where exactly did you plan on staying? All of the rooms are spoken for?” He asks. “The couch in the break room. It’s employees only, so I was hoping no guests stumble upon me in the night.”. He nods, looking deep in thought. “We’ll talk more later.” He says, like it was a fact.

You return to the kitchen. Things had calmed down a lot, only one cook was left, sprinkling lemon on a platter of hors d’œuvres. You got caught up on washing dishes, and cleaned the messy floors. When you were done, you heard the guests counting down, you walked to the doorway, peering in at them. No one wanted to be alone at this moment, even if you had to spend it with people that didn’t look your way. You watched as a few couples kissed and older men raised their glasses high. Mr. Barnes raised his glass towards you. Keeping his eyes on you as he takes his first sip of the new year.

You flick the kitchen light off. Walking across the dark kitchen you hear the party goes laughing and dancing to thumping music. You know you’d be picking up your champagne flutes out of the carpet in the morning. You smile when you enter the break room, you asked Bonnie, the maid, if she found time today to put you a blanket in here, she didn’t forget. Completely forgetting that your boss wanted to speak to you, you close the door behind you. Grabbing your bag off its hook on the wall, you pull out shorts and a tank top to sleep in.

You quickly change and fall face down on the couch, you don’t even cover up, liking the way your bare legs cooled your body down after sweating in the kitchen all day. You’re out like the kitchen light. That is until you feel a hand on your ankle, shaking you awake.

“Huh?” You say, raising your body up on your knees, causing your ass to lift in the air. “I wanted to speak with you.”. You blink your eyes open, and realize who it is. “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.” You say, pulling up the loose strap of your tank top.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, wanting to keep this professional. He sits down on the couch beside you, your heart starts beating a little faster than it should. You haven’t been this close to another man since you started dating your fiancé. It felt weird and taboo, you know you should scoot away, but you don’t.

“I appreciate the work you put in here, and I’d like to show my appreciation by hiring you on as a live in manager of the manor.” You look between his eyes, trying to see if he’s serious. “I- what?” You say, utterly shocked.

He turns, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Everyone would report to you, Bruce, security, the maids, a new kitchen manager. You’d be making a lot of the decisions in my place, I think I can trust you.” He says, you think over his offer for a second, you know the money would be out of this world, but “My fiancé, I can’t just move out, we’re getting married soon.” You know you have to turn him down.

“Do you want to see your room?” He stands up and starts walking out of the room, just like Bruce, not waiting on a reply. “I don’t think that’s necessary, sir.” He looks back at you, like he can convince you otherwise. “What’s a look gonna hurt?” He says.

He leads you to the end of the guest hall, the last door in sight. You hadn’t been upstairs since your tour of the mansion, so you weren’t really familiar on which room was which, but you’re pretty sure this is the master suite.

He takes a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, opening it to reveal none other than the master suite. “Mr. Barnes, this is the master suite, what are we doing here?” You say, taking in the giant poster bed and red velvet.

“I know where we are, this would be your room, if you were to accept my proposal and if you do, just call me Bucky.” He says, walking around the room, studying it, as if he didn’t know what every inch of his bedroom looked like. You’re at a loss for words, you never imagined living like this, or having such a high paying job. “I can’t, I want to, but I can’t.” You say, feeling like you’re making a mistake.

He crosses the room, standing infront of you. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” He says reaching out to touch your arm. You lock eyes with him when you feel his hand on your skin. This was inappropriate in so many ways. Here you were half naked at 2 am in the master bedroom being touched by a man that wasn’t your fiancé. You can’t move, just like on the couch.

It’s like you can’t act on what your brains telling you, step away, tell him you’re not okay with this, feel uncomfortable. But you can’t, and you won’t, your body wants to. But there’s something inside of you keeping you close to him like a magnet.

Your heart beats rapidly, fear rushes through you. Not fear of him, but what you could do in a state like this. You’re not thinking clearly, you can’t even remove his hand from your arm. The hand that was numbing the skin on your bicep.

“Like I said, Mr. Barnes, I can’t accept. I hope this doesn’t interfere with my current employment.” Finally, you put your brain on autopilot, jutting out a professional declining of his invitation.

He drops his hand, seemingly letting you win this battle. “Of course not,” he ushers you out of the room, locking it behind him. “I shall let the offer stand, as long as you keep up the good work.” You nod your head, knowing you would never bring it up again.

He insists that you join him for one last drink in the lounge. All the guests were in their rooms, fast asleep. “I’ll just have water thanks.” You say, sitting infront of the roaring fire. He walks over the the bar cart, pouring himself bourbon, and you a glass of water from the crystal pitcher.

He sits down beside you again, you notice he’s closer now than what he was in the break room. You clear your throat, “So how did you come by this place?” You ask, wanting to keep your mind off of the heat radiating off of him.

“Inheritance.” He answers curtly, like exposing any further detail was an invasion of privacy. You find yourself nodding your head yet again tonight. You look at the flames tickling the brick walls of the fireplace, they remind you of your fiancés eyes, and in that moment you feel a bullet create a hole in your chest.

If you found out he were having a drink at 2am with his boss, while she was wearing her pajamas; you’d be furious. How hypocritical, that you find yourself sipping your room temperature water, bumping knees with a man you’ve never even met before.

“What do you want in life?” He asks out of the blue. It shocks you, you don’t know if you should tell him the truth or not. You figured, he knows what he’s paying you, it would never buy a restaurant anyways. “Uhm, first and foremost a family, which I’m currently working on. But in the future?” You say, knowing that’s what he meant.

He seems unbothered by you constantly bringing up your fiancé, like it wasn’t a factor in his motives. “I want my own kitchen. My own tables and menu. My guests sitting in my restaurant.” You say, averting your eyes from him. It’s not everyday you tell your boss you don’t plan on working for them forever.

“If you accepted my offer, you’d have that. You would have say over the menu, you would greet the guests and get to know them as if they were your own. You could redecorate, whatever you wanted.” Your mouth drops open slightly, you don’t know if you should believe him, but he hasn’t given you a reason not to.

As soon as fireworks start popping in your head, they die out. “Missed opportunity I guess.”.

“Well it’s getting late, I should be getting to bed.” You say, leaving your empty glass beside his. You make a beeline for the swinging kitchen door, “I don’t think in good conscience I can let you stay on the couch, employee or not, hosting people is my profession after all.” He stands, giving you a smile that reads in different ways. One could be a business man, just doing what he does best, faking a smile.

The longer you stood on opposite sides of the room, silence growing thick between you, the charming smile read differently, like you were prey, caught in a trap. You could retreat and lick your wounds or stay, and be healed and coddled.

“I insist.” He puts his hands in his pockets, walking to the bottom of the stairs. You could see him waiting from the kitchen door, leaning on the banister. It was nonnegotiable, you huff out a breath before grabbing your bag and shoes from the break room. Might as well let this be the first and last night you every get to stay in one of these rooms.

You follow him back up to the master bedroom, he unlocks the door and leads you in yet again. “Where are you staying? I thought we had a full house?” You say, finally realizing, this locked room was the only free bed. He turns around and shrugs his shoulders, “I just thought, we could share, this beds big enough for the two of us, with plenty of professional space for a pillow wall.”. He says, throwing back the covers, tossing the decorative pillows in the middle of the bed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say, crossing your arms. “I don’t think the couch is a good idea, seeing as you’re scheduled till 7 tomorrow.” He argues. You’re frozen again, like you should fight against him but you can’t, you just let it happen.

Without another word you drop your bag and shoes on the chest at the foot of the bed. You tuck yourself in close to the edge, facing away from him. You set your alarm and close your eyes when he flicks the light off. “Goodnight.” He says, and you try to pretend you’re already asleep, but “night.” Slips from your lips before you could rethink it.

[tired-hellowl]

here' a comprehensive list as to every problem I have with the current *unecessary characters known as 'Glitz and Glam'

Do they expand the story/worldbuilding in any meaningful way? Do they explore a new hidden dynamic/past conjunction with a differing character and is that explored meaningfully? What was the point of having them animated when Mammon can portray the same level of humiliation/degrading/on stage lack of positive reinforcements. 😐

I'm so sorry but I view these characters as necessary garbage that caused some animators arthritis via too many patterns, not enough screen time to have meat and potatoes worth of dialogue, or really any pretense within the story whatsoever and yes this extends towards every female character on screen but let's not worry about that !!! Even if they are IMPLIED to be from the ring of envy-a color or ring we haven't seen nor meaningfully conveyed to the audience that it even is possible to go in/exists- it isn't conveyed to the audience well enough besides the visual implication of colors???? Instead of having shitty b-plots that go nowhere via Stolas and Blitz goofing off in seeing stars, Moxxie and Millie getting C-plots for no reason, or loona getting a rabies shot- all of that time could have been exploring hell, going to different rings, focusing on other characters besides the main 5, literally I would prefer a quiet episode like BoJack Horsemans 'Fish out of Water'where we can actually see the personalities of the main characters be appreciated and shown to us but that's never gonna happen :/

What I've been worried about is not even the on screen racism/out of touch 'rap/hip-hop parody' leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, if that isn't enough then the sexualization/implication of an incest type dynamic and nothing else besides fetish bait with these characters constantly grabbing one another and not really acting like siblings moreso someone who has never had siblings attempting to write sibling banter and failing terribly :/

Why do you have a problem with 'Klown Bitch' it's so catchy! Uhm, no??? I feel bad for anyone who attempts to defend helluva/hazbin as good modern musicals let me grit my teeth in silence as to the glorification over white people dominating black culture

HERES A HISTORY OF FEMALE HIPHOP ARTISTS: X

Pictured above is very old concept art about twin characters and its the same hairshape viv kept to transfer over to glitz/glam- despite clearly being over designed and way too much going on Alá vivzie style. It just goes to show she recycles even from herself and not every design is always new hot and fresh :/ AND SPEAKING OF CONCEPT ART-

Also also don't forget salems' concept designs thst got passed even though they loon toony, loony, clown enough, and definitely majorly way easier to have animated besides the mess that is the current design meta ???

Love how you can clearly see the silhouettes being so easily identifiable comparably towards the actual amalgamated mess that is their current limbs attempting to hold onto their toothpick body for their head.

All this screams to me is viv using the artists thst try to come onto helluva and they try their best with what their given, viv only picks the best bits SHE thinks is worth her time rather then thinking about the audience or animating anything else besides overglorified white people rap 🤔

Also the episode literally presents its full internalized misogyny/racism within this episode because vivzie herself literally admitted to typing into script with a full chest that

'Women just ain't funny'

. . .

why present misogyny within the series if you as a creator aren't willing to tackle the subject matter? Why write about it or present it as if you're smart over including the joke in your script when it isn't even funny because it just further pushes women out of the entertainment/comedy business which mind you IS ALREADY VERY WELL MALE DOMINATED SO PUTTING OTHER WOMEN DOWN TO PUT YOURSELF UP ISNT HELPING YOUR CASE VIV???

So then what was the point of adding female clowns if all you were going to do with them was make fun of them out of their expense and then profit off of the fact that they are incest coded????????????

?????????Are we watching the same fucking series????????

[faithfromanewperspective]

designing home

what is home to me?? I don’t answer this with a place, but it’s who I feel like I belong with isn’t it?? It’s been a long time of not feeling that. I do admit it. I also admit I’m learning more and more, I am so so capable of creating that. maybe one day I’ll be a plant with roots in the ground. maybe one day I’ll have a place I’m able to rest. I know I can’t now. not yet. I know I’ve got nothing to rest in. nothing but what is supernatural and insubstantial and strung together like hope. hope that’s turning from an abstract concept I would rattle off like a sunday school answer to something I can kind of make out the outlines of. I hate that it’s taken me half a subject into a masters degree to realise this.

so maybe now that we’re somewhere in the in between—it’s ironic isn’t it? that I’ve dedicated so much of my life, most of the last decade as soon as I’ve been a conscious human who can think independent thoughts, into designing spaces and ways to decorate them that work for people but I can’t for myself. how can I meet my own needs when my needs are simply that, to quote a movie and a historical figure an old love introduced me to, I can ‘put a little bit of it [the mess in the world all around] back together’? so overwhelmed by the lack of autonomy and connection I can feel all around me. I just want to feel progress. send out to the universe me saying it’ll get better, I’m working at it, I’m making it better, and have that serotonin and confidence from realising, I really can make this better. seeing my own progress. because really what I’m looking for is I know I can’t fix all the problems in the world. I want a home I can feel satisfied with.

and we’re back to the question, as we’re in between the starting mess of a canvas in trying to recycle and the ideal, and always will be (my old pastor used to talk about the messy in-between kingdom after death is defeated by the death of a god but before death has stepped down rule so we still feel its hold. I’ve always felt like I’m living in that). what do I do?? I long to connect, it regulates me, I moved here because my connection needs were being unmet and I needed a physical space I could invite people in to. that’s probably my number one priority. to have my own space that invites connection. and it helps, to be seen, witnessed by someone I can relate to, remind me I’m not alone.

if home is about connection, it’s somewhere that facilitates me connecting to all sorts of things. to nature, to the built environment around me, somewhere that when I mask so long I forget who I am I can come back to it. to both the place and its people who I let in and remember who I am. they are like visual prompts. their presence a trigger for my nervous system but a good one, a calming one, a regulating one. maybe that’s why, be it my birds or whoever lives under whatever roof I’m in, when they’re distressed, it’s like I’ve lost that. I’ve lost my tether to this planet; everything is going wrong. if I had a role in that, I must be the worst person ever to cause such great destruction. how can I survive, if I can’t do this one thing? feed the system, steward it, the system I need to survive? that feeds and grounds me?

that’s why I wake with the sun. why laundry day and getting it all done is so important to me. vacuuming and the dishes. why I must make a castle for my birds that meets their needs. why I long to create homes for me and others out there who have similar needs where we can solace. that’s why I’ve found it so important for me to do the little things I can so that I can feel little by little, the chaos is receding, build my confidence that I might mess up yes but I’m learning to do things right, I can do that too. that this ambition burning in my soul to just build structures of love, it’s not useless. I need to triage my energy to find the best ways for me to do that. I want people to be able to come to me and relax. I know their needs (that part I have to thank my teenage self for honing in that intuition that I now can’t turn off) and I see them and I’ve seen it before and I can tell them, this problem you feel weighing on you is solvable, watch. until they too feel this confidence I’m trying to build in myself.

but what of me? are my problems solveable?

first, being able to let my guard down and let people in. no fear of messing up, forgetting, showing something that wasn’t meant to exist let alone be shown, because whatever exists exists because we mean it. whatever we don’t want to exist—well we work to make our ambitions line up with reality. I still clean my parents’ house, because then they might feel this for themselves. then maybe the years of shame, maybe I can relax as they do. or at least clean without the pressure of having someone over. having a deadline. I can relax, we all can, knowing there is nothing here to hide. nothing to do that we can’t, because we can do it all we can fit it all into our schedule and routine.

I don’t even say no to myself in order to do a more urgent task anymore. I’m most productive when I have my peace. that’s my main goal and takeaway of this year. what can you do to facilitate this?? let people in. share your secrets that you thought you’d implied for so long didn’t exist that none of your school friends asked. learn to share your story. create spaces, havens, with the people you trust who you let in. share who you really are. who I really am. I’m not sure that most people around me know it. how much the way I see the world shapes who I am, my identity, and it’s not just neurodivergence or my beliefs but a complex interaction between them and the way my education, my empathy, has changed me, molded me from shapeless nothing into someone with a voice and purpose. I don’t know who around me has met her, or knows that she exists. but she earns my wage and she makes community and she designs places. I know that.

it’s somewhere that the hurdles are manageable and fit within a system of this-is-my-life. a rhythm. I’m a musician. I don’t mean no hurdles, because I feel pretentious and I don’t feel comradeship that I perceive as connection if so. I mean that I don’t run the race without being fed that day. I mean I get love in and love is what comes out and motivates me as I do hard things. I mean it’s pumping blood through my veins. Giving me purpose. I mean that I am literally so disabled when I don’t have my need of being seen and seeing others and the magic it brings and the unlikely optimism it brings, connection based on equality, that’s all I want in the world, met. I can build cities with my bare hands when these things are flowing in. so they’re of utmost importance, that I pull all these things together and have them feed me and my home is what facilitates this or else I’ll starve. And I fully think after feeling discouraged for so long masking around everyone I know because I can’t speak their language, not anymore, that I can get there.

maybe it’s the kid from western sydney who has the best friends in the world from childhood talking but I am her and I do so well to remember that, I forgot for so long. It’s like I’ve been asleep, walking in a dreamlike daze being who they told me I was because it hurt to think of what I lost so I just forgot I ever had it before. But I never lost it.

and this is the wind under my wings as I say I can do it, I can walk with everyone I know out of the shutoff from connection burnout all my adult family members and the only friends I relate to are in. We all experience it different ways. And I wish life wasn’t such hard work but it’s the kind of work that is rewarding to do and if this is my life, I can manage it. As long as part of wherever I experience as home is able to give me the special mix of connection nutrients I need. because it’s not something anyone feeds you naturally.

so in the end, it doesn’t really matter what it looks like or how it functions as long as it does and the hurdles it brings aren’t the kind that distract me from the hurdles, the relational ones, that I’ll always have to face in my life. what matters, what supports me, is am I able to let love and connection in in a way that doesn’t hurt me by making me be something I’m not? and can I have a secure diet of that, one that’s healthier and healthier every day until the fear that it won’t happen is a distant memory that can no longer draw blood?

and I wonder if you, too, want that. After all, it’s why I do what I do isn’t it?? In perceiving you, seeing to the heart and validating that I put a little piece of the world back together. I think that’s the only way we exist without hurting each other—that even our most capital-intensive needs are simply a magic expression of symbiosis, in which we are part of an ecosystem that receives joy and purpose and these feelings I’ve discussed in return for giving you what you need to regulate the distress, ease the pain, bring the ecosystem which you are a part of into a little more harmony, a little deeper connection that soothes our aching souls in a way that until you experience it, you never know how much it pumps sunlight into your veins (like actual symbiosis of photosynthesis) in a way that makes any work you do to maintain this relationship so, so satisfying and as much a part of the joy as the result itself.

[bluejayblueskies]

1, 11, 15, 23, 30

weird questions for writers!

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

i write pretty much exclusively in times new roman! i usually switch to lucida grande for editing since that's the ao3 font and it helps me catch typos, and occasionally i'll write in arial in google docs if i don't feel like changing it from the default, but 9 times out of 10, it's times new roman. i don't really care much, but i've also gotten used to writing in tnr, so if i try to switch it messes with my flow and makes me think more about the font than the words, so i think i'm pretty much stuck with it XD

(more under the cut!)

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

i had to google what this means askldgag ('to get rid of an unnecessary storyline, character, or sentences in a piece of creative writing') but i do think it's good advice! i've been working a lot in the past few years since i started writing again (first for tma, and now for malevolent) to clean up my writing style, and i think this is part of it for sure. i get very attached to my long sentences, and learning to cut them up or delete them altogether was very hard for me. i'm still bad at outright cutting scenes or storylines that i'm fond of, and honestly the ones i'm less fond of as well. i'd love to get in the habit of re-writing an entire chapter to cull out unnecessary things, but as i'm not planning on writing for profit, simply for fun, and that doesn't sound very fun to me, i haven't put much weight on that

i do have a darling graveyard! i usually plonk sections that i discard into either my notes app or my outline, and sometimes i go back later to recycle, but most of the time i realize that those chunks are better off dead and buried and i don't resurrect them. there was a really good piece of advice i read once that said 'if you run into a block in your writing, the issue is probably 10 lines back' which has helped IMMENSELY, and that's where a lot of my cutting comes in, where i'll just chop a whole section i wrote and start over to get the flow better. thus, the darlings are usually better off dead, because they were causing more problems than solutions.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

i write in the margins of textbooks that i own, and that's pretty much it. i like keeping my books in good condition, so i usually don't write in them, dog-ear my pages, etc.. (i don't take baths, but if i did, i don't think i would read in the bath.) i don't judge people who do, though! it can be very satisfying to mark up a book, and when i do it with textbooks, i love it a lot. it's just not for me with fiction (though i think i would feel better marking up a second-hand book than a bought-new book since it's already no longer in pristine condition!)

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

the physical environment i write in changes, but lately (since i moved) it's been mainly one of two places

i sit in the black faux-leather bucket chair i have in my room, one blanket beneath me, the other covering my legs, feet propped up on my bed (which currently has bookbinding stuff strewn all over it). i have the worst posture as i hunch over my laptop and write my silly little words. i have earplugs in and over-the-ear headphones on, blasting 'Heavy Rain Sounds | No Thunder' from spotify at max volume to drown out the sounds of living with five other people. i probably have some sort of beverage slowly equalizing to room temperature as i get caught up in the writing and forget about it. it's either too hot or too cold; there is no in-between

i sit at my desk in my office at work, where i basically sit around and wait for people to have a/v issues and thus have essentially 6-9 hours of free time to do whatever interrupted by occasionally having to explain to people how an adapter works. there's probably somebody singing vocal warmups in the background, or playing slightly-out-of-tune jazz saxophone, or playing the same piano piece ad nauseum. my coworkers could definitely see my computer screen if they looked; i've still got ao3 pulled up and visible in the background. i may still be listening to heavy rain sounds if the vocal warmups are bad enough, and i almost certainly have coffee that i'm chugging like it's the nectar of the gods because i probably got there at 7:30am and have to make it through to 11:00pm without leaving the building once. it is a Tuesday and i have not seen a window for seven hours <3

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

hmmm, i used to use stuff from my dreams as the inspo. for original writing, but i don't do that as much anymore because a) i don't do much original writing anymore 😅 and b) i don't dream as much anymore! at least not in coherent, recognizable ways that aren't just like. stress dreams. i suppose the tradeoff is that i haven't had a nightmare in a while either so ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ i get inspiration from daydreams if that counts lol?

and i don't think i've ever written in a dream! the closest i've gotten is dreaming that i had a writing-based assignment finished, then waking up and finding out i did not in fact have it finished 😔

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter Five.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count: 3200+

Chapter Five:

Once the meeting was done and over, Bucky and Y/N both left at the same time. Bucky was kind enough to hold the door open for her as they made their way back to the street, but Y/N’s goal was to get back to her car as quick as possible. So she gave him a curt thank you and moved quickly to leave. 

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted just as she was less than 10 feet away. She paused with a cringe on her face before turning back to him. He was walking hesitantly to catch up with her. “Listen, I know it’s been a few years.”

“A few is an understatement,” she mumbled and he heard, but decided to move on. 

“I just- I,” he stuttered. What the hell was he doing? “Would you want to get coffee? Catch up some? I-,” Before he could finish, she cut him off. 

“Listen, as great as that sounds,” she tried to say nicely, but he could see the nerves in her face. “I actually have plans right after this.” He deflated some in his spot. She noticed and though she thought she wouldn’t care if she hurt him after all these years, something deep down proved that thought was wrong. “I-I just haven’t seen my family in a while, and the little time I have left here this weekend, I wanted to spend time with them where I could.”

“Right, right,” Bucky tried to brush off unbothered, but failed. “I’m sure your dad misses you, and you him.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years. That and I haven’t been back in the city in 10 years, so I have a lot to catch up on,” she nodded. 

“Wait, you haven’t been back here in 10 years?” he asked shocked. He thought she had a least been in town throughout the years. Even if he hadn’t seen her. 

“Um, yeah. I kinda…” she hesitated, but figured where would the truth hurt? “Guess I wasn’t ever really ready to get back here.” Bucky knew what she meant even if she wasn’t saying it verbatim, and it hurt his heart knowing he was the cause. Well, I guess both of them were, not just him. “That plus starting up Horizon, it was hard the first few years. But the family still sees each other for the holidays.”

“That’s right. Colorado,” Bucky nodded. 

Y/N had kept forgetting for some reason that Bucky and her father were with each other at least once a week most of the time. Always hanging out and doing guy things, or really, father and son types of things. Meaning he knew of, if not actually knew, Sherri, Denise, John, and Chloe too. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know about the yearly Colorado trip. 

“Right,” Y/N nodded with pursed lips, putting it all together and Bucky realized. 

“Oh, God sorry. I promise I’m not stalking you, it’s just your dad and I-” he started to defend his knowledge. 

“It’s fine James, really,” she said with a wave of her hand and a slight chuckle. One he never expected coming from her. And the name… He wasn’t sure the last time he heard her say Bucky. As soon as they decided to bring an end to their relationship, that nickname never passed her lips again. “I know you and my dad are close.”

“You’re not upset at that?” he asked, slightly confused. 

“I’m not evil. No matter how much you may think,” she mumbled the last part. “I-I… I know the relationship you two share. You’ve had it since the beginning of time practically. I wouldn’t dream to take that from either of you.”

Bucky didn’t respond. Because all he could do was look at her with a longing look. God, he missed her. Sure he held some anger from where they ended things, but he had moved on for the most part. Now he just missed his best friend. The girl he grew up loving. From best friends to girlfriend, to eventually fiance and wife. He missed her. Just who she was as a person when resent wasn’t a feeling she had toward you. 

Sure, it was a lot to think back on in just the thought that she still cared for him enough not to banish her father from him, but it spoke volumes for who she was as an individual and he missed that. 

“I mean not that I really have a say in other people’s life, but if I did, I wouldn’t do such a thing,” she looked down, fidgeting in her spot seeing him staring at her like earlier all over again. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” he responded, quickly noticing his stare and looking down at his own shuffling feet. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you go. Thomas has been excited beyond measures to have you home. I won’t keep you from him.”

She nodded as they made eye contact again and started to turn back to her car. But before she could get too far, knowing this may be the last time he sees her again for a while, if not ever, he had to say it. 

“Y/N?” She turned at her name and sent him a questioning look. “I’m glad you’re doing ok. You seem to really be taking the world by storm like you always were going to,” he smiled softly and she blushed some before returning the smile. 

“Thank you, James. You too. You seem like you’re doing some pretty amazing things yourself,” she nodded once. 

They didn’t speak more than that, but instead walked back to their cars. Not without a second glance here and there. 

___________________

“So? How did it go?” Thomas asked as soon as Y/N walked in through the garage door. Him and Sherri sitting at the breakfast nook with cups of coffee in hand and wide eyes ready for all the details. 

“It went,” she responded, throwing her purse on the island bar stool and going to make a mug for herself. 

“Wow, such a colorful description. Anything more and she’d be over doing it,” Thomas exaggerated, getting a giggle from Sherri who stood up and joined Y/N’s side grabbing the creamer and sugar for her. 

“Come on now, sis. Good? Bad? Magical?” she added the last word with flare. 

“Anything besides magical,” she sent a playful glare to the woman. “I will say this though.” She walked over and sat with a huff in the nook across from her father, practically deflating in her seat. “I am still technically Mrs. Barnes.”

“What?!” they both gasped. 

“How?” Thomas pushed on. 

“Well I guess the meeting today was just to update the papers and nothing else. I mean, yeah. A few signatures here and there, but it’s not finalized.”

“So it was just an revision meeting? When’s the final cut?” Sherri asked, leaning on the back of Thomas' chair. The two watching their daughter with intrigued eyes. 

“A few days?” she said more in a question. “Matthew, our new lawyer, said him and his partner are going to update them within the next day or so, and then send us the final write up to sign. After we send those back in, it’ll all be settled.”

“You still going to have John overlook everything for extra measures?”

“Never hurts. I really would rather NOT go through all this mess again. Getting divorced once sucks, but twice? Yeah, I’d rather not have to do it a third time. And all with the same man,” Y/N sighed heavily before taking a long chug of her coffee. 

The couple ahead of her sending each other a silent message to the other. Y/N hadn’t noticed as she closed her eyes at the upcoming headache, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have time to question it as her phone started going off. 

Looking down, she saw the office calling her. On a Saturday?

“I have to take this. I’ll be back in one second,” she groaned, taking her coffee mug with the buzzing phone to the back patio. “Hello?”

“Y/N! Hey, I have a quick update,” Melody’s voice came through the other line.

“Why are you at the office on a Saturday?” Y/N said a little sternly, but good intentions were behind it. 

“I got an email from our recycle plant we had scheduled for that Monday meeting and it couldn’t wait until Monday,” she was quick to explain. “But listen. They had to reschedule. The main guy and his wife, the bosses of the vendure who was coming to discuss the offers, had a family emergency come up and asked if they could postpone it a week.”

“Um, yeah sure. That’s fine,” Y/N shook her head trying to run the schedule through her mind. “Did you contact Bee’s Knees and let them know about the postponement?”

“Yes, and they said they were fine with it as well.”

“Ok, good,” Y/N nodded. “So I have a clear schedule besides background work Monday. Is that all?”

“Well…” Melody drug out. 

“Why does that sound like a Natasha kind of ‘well’,” Y/N questioned with a quirked eyebrow. This wasn’t receptionist or assistant talk about to happen. 

“Speaking of Nat, we thought because that was your only big meeting for the week and everything else is normal for the rest of the week, you should extend your stay in Brooklyn,” she replied. 

“What?”

“Come on. We both agree you haven’t seen your family in far too long, and a weekend trip isn’t going to cut it. That plus, Nat made a good point that you have tons of old friends you haven't seen in way too many years either,” she went on. “Why rush catching up with everyone, if all the work you need to do can be done on your laptop from Brooklyn? That and for once, your schedule isn’t overstacked with meeting after meeting. That happens once every few months. Plus, you’re already in New York!”

“Ok, ok. Calm down there, Sparky,” Y/N chuckled at her friend being out of breath. “I mean I guess, you’re not wrong…”

“She can’t be. I’m the one who came up with all this,” Nat’s voice broke in. 

“Oh, yeah. I may or may not be hanging out with Nat and Yelena,” Melody giggled bashfully. “Or be partially tipsy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the three, but couldn’t stop the laugh from coming out of her own mouth. 

“You sneaky little bitches,” Y/N chuckled. 

“What can I say? We’re Romanoff’s,” Nat smirked through the phone. 

“Well, I’m a Hill, but Romanoff by descent,” Melody added in. 

Again, another joking eye roll. 

“Now I have to change my flights and everything,” Y/N sighed. 

“Oh, woes me,” Nat mocked. “What a challenge it must be to log into your computer and change a flight to another week…”

“Hey, smartass,-”

“Lucky for you, you have me. I state once again,” Nat laughed. “I already checked into your flights to see if we can get a cheap reschedule.”

“How’d you know my login information?” Y/N asked, confused. 

“I have my ways, now don’t interrupt,” she scolded before continuing. “I was able to find you a flight around the same time, plenty of time to get to your rescheduled meeting, and it won’t cost you a hair off that pretty head of yours.”

“How’d you manage that?” Y/N asked with a smirk of her own now and a pop of her hip.

“I’ll say it again since apparently you’re deaf. I have. My ways,” the red head replied. 

“You sure you weren’t a spy in another life or something? Because sometimes you and Yelena have some strange tricks up your sleeves that I’ve only seen done in movies.”

“I would like the answer to that as well. Like how they coroerced me into a girls night while I was hiding in my apartment trying to take a relaxing night to read,” Melody spoke up. 

“Drink your juice, babygirl,” Yelena’s voice came quietly in the back. 

“With all that being said, we are gonna to let you go. We’re going to get all the details of last night out of this little one and go to a few clubs,” Nat explained. 

“Oh, I’d love to hear the details when you have them,” Y/N laughed. 

“I’ll have a nice 5 page paper ready for you tomorrow morning,” Yelena yelled from a distance.

“I’ll be expecting it. Now you girls go have a good time and please show Melody what she’s missing out on!”

“Can do, boss lady! Love you! See you next week!” 

With that, the phone call ended and Y/N looked at the empty lock screen. 

“I guess we’re staying a little longer.”

________________

“So, how’d it go?” Steve asked coming home from his early half shift. 

Bucky was sprawled across the couch with a pillow over his face, a sports playback running in the background and a beer that looked like he had been nursing all afternoon on the coffee table. 

“She looks great,” he mumbled into the cushion, but Steve couldn’t syfer the words.

“You’re going to have to say that again without a throw pillow over your face,” he chuckled, kicking off his shoes and throwing his keys by the door before heading to the nearby kitchen. 

“I said, she looks great!” Bucky all but grunted as he sat up. Frustration and annoyance clear in his answer. 

“And why do you sound like that’s a horrible thing?” Steve laughed again from the distance. 

Bucky groaned as he stood up and walked into the other room with Steve. He was parading through the fridge for an afternoon snack, or by the looks of the clock on the oven, lunch. 

It was 12:30 already?

“Because Steve, it makes it hurt all the more,” he pouted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the island in the middle of the space. 

“Her looking good, hurts you?” Steve asked, standing up with a tupperware bowl of leftovers in his hand. 

“I don’t know!” Bucky sneered at him, angry that his best friend wasn’t catching on to his feelings that even he didn’t understand. “I guess deep down, I was hoping she didn’t age well so that walking away would be easier. But there she was, walking in like fine wine. All mature and curvy, and… Perfect…” he mumbled the last part. “She did smack me though,” he added, thinking back with a dazed face. 

“Smack you?” Steve chuckled, popping the cold food in the microwave. 

“Our lawyer is blind. I asked a simple question of out of all the states to live in, why New York in that kind of condition?” Bucky said, hating how it sounded. “I realize now, after processing it, that was stupid and rude.”

“Hence why she smacked you,” Steve laughed, copying the brunette's stance on the opposite counter. “You’re an occupational therapist, Buck. Out of all the things to understand, it’s people adapting to their handicaps and disabilities.” He couldn’t help the laugh at his friend who seemed oblivious to the irony. 

“I was nervous, ok?!” Bucky defended, throwing his arms up and going to pace the room now. “Y/N and I had been sitting in awkward silence for the most part of the meeting so far, and that was the first piece of conversation that came to mind.”

“I’m hoping for your sake, he wasn’t a dick about it.”

“He wasn’t. He actually said he gets asked that a lot. Apparently, he hasn’t been blind all his life and said he’s lived here all that time. Helps when you grow up in the environment you live in.”

“Very true,” Steve agreed, grabbing his food and stirring it around before taking a bite and talking again. “Besides her looking ‘perfect’, did the process go well? You know, besides her reprimanding you like a mom?”

“Ha ha. You’re so funny,” Bucky deadpanned. “But yes. We signed our things and updated it all. Hey, did you know she’s a co-founder of Nat’s woman’s home? I guess not a co-founder, but investor?”

Steve finished his bite and shook his head. “Can’t say I did. It must be recent if that’s the case because neither Nat or Y/N told me about that.”

“I think it is, but damn…”

“Damn what?” Steve asked. 

“Well, at first she had me dropping my jaw at the fact that she did everything and more that she had hoped to do. She’s become an environmentalist like her grandmother and has started a whole business based on it.”

“I mean she was an environmentalist as soon as her GG had her walking. Remember how she would always take our straws at restaurants and have the waitress take them back so we didn’t ‘kill the turtles’? And that was before that was a like a worldwide trend,” Steve remenised, moving to the living room to eat at the couch. Bucky following. 

“God, yes. She started carrying like 10 reusable straws with her as soon as they came out with them. That and remember the amount of reusable bags she had in her backseat any given time of the week?” Bucky laughed, joining him in thinking back to the dated memories. 

“So many she would hand them out to people in parking lots at grocery stores to use themselves,” Steve added. “God, she really loves this planet. I admire her passion though. We need everyone to have a heart for our home like that.”

“She made it everyone's mission around her to know just how important it was,” Bucky smiled at the thought as he looked off in the distance, wrapped in the memories he loved. But that wasn’t the point. The point was he would never be close with her like that again. What they had was done and over… Or would be. “Funny thing actually…” Bucky chuckled awkwardly. 

“What’s that?” Steve asked, looking at the TV in front of him. 

“We may or may not still be married…”

There was a pause as Steve stopped mid-chew and slowly turned his gaze from the baseball reruns on the screen to Bucky with a tight smile. 

“Excuse me?”

“I guess that wasn’t the endgame for today’s meeting…”

“What was?”

“Getting things updated and signed so that the papers were actually ready for our divorce,” Bucky answered. 

“So she’s still Y/N Barnes?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t say that to her face. She looks like she wants to physically throw up when you call her that,” Bucky slouched in his chair. His hand coming up to cover his face as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger. 

“So still married?”

“Still married.”

“How long?” Steve sighed, putting his food on the counter and leaning back in his own seat. 

“As long as it takes to make up the new divorce settlements and get them signed and sent back in. Until then… I’m a married man.”

If you would like to be tagged in this series, please send an ask! It keeps things more organized for me. If you comment, I most likely will not add because I loose them:)

- Tags will be closing soon.

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley​ @ximaginx​ @vicmc624​ @leyannrae @lonerlovescompany​ @jessyballet​ @angstysebfan​ @tita127​ @semistablecentenarian​ @im-a-light-child​ @alyssahowden​ @studiesinspanish​ @natyvwe​ @rebekahdawkins​ @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @millennial-teenybopper​ @scotlandasshole​ @aquariusbarnes​ @shinykoalacat​​

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​ @death-unbecomes-you​​ @heyiamthatbitch​​ @lizzymacy555​​  @srrymydood​​ @xa-dia​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​ @morganclaire4​​ @connie326​​ @captain-asguard​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​ @teenagedreams-bucky​​ @shower-me-with-roses​​ @pham-tastical @livstilinski​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​​ @lauravicente​​ @kakakatey​​ @traceyaudette​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​  @laneygthememequeen​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @sandlee44​​ @thorne93​​ @thefaithfulwriter​​ @essie1876​​ @greyeyedsmile14​​ @capsiclehan​​  @xostephanie​​ @averyrogers83​​ @awesomenursingstudent​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @cs-please​​ @carls1022​​ @jjlevin​​ @rainbowkisses31​​ @anise-d-castle6​​ @deannotmoose​​ @their-bibliophile​​ @kitkatd7​​ @willowbleedsonpaper​​ @mariaenchanted​​ @snffbeebee​​ @couldabeenamermaid​​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​​ @charmedbysarge​​ @jbarness​​ @bellamy-barnes​​ @katiaw2​​ @aikeia​​ @stopjustlovethemcu​​

[delphinidin4]

This article

...was wildly popular when it first came out, but I bet nobody’s read it in the last 20 years. So Imma post it here, cause it’s still fun!

Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young

By MARY SCHMICH, CHICAGO TRIBUNE  | JUN 01, 1997 AT 2:00 AM

Inside every adult lurks a graduation speaker dying to get out, some world-weary pundit eager to pontificate on life to young people who'd rather be Rollerblading. Most of us, alas, will never be invited to sow our words of wisdom among an audience of caps and gowns, but there's no reason we can't entertain ourselves by composing a Guide to Life for Graduates. I encourage anyone over 26 to try this and thank you for indulging my attempt. Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97: Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine. Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing every day that scares you. Sing. Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss. Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself. Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements. Stretch. Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone. Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's. Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own. Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. Read the directions, even if you don't follow them. Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young. Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel. Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. Respect your elders. Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out. Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85. Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth. But trust me on the sunscreen.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Visits & Visions

A JSE Fanfic

This story is about a page shorter than my usual stuff, but it’s still a lot of pages. There’s a lot of setup with not as much action this time around. Chase visits more people. We check on Schneep again, finally returning to his POV. And then Anti acts like an evil asshole, because he is an evil asshole. Yeah, not much to say about this one. Hope you guys like it regardless :>

You can find the other stories under the pw timeline tag!

Chase opened the curtains on the bedroom, letting in a wash of sunlight. The bright light was quickly absorbed by the dark blue paint on the walls, but still lit up the desk and swivel chair, dresser and closet, shelves with books and knickknacks, and the bed with the nightstand next to it. Marvin, lying in bed, pulled the blanket up over his head and groaned.

“Sit up and absorb the Vitamin D, bro,” Chase said, sitting down in the swivel chair. Marvin’s cat Ragamuffin was lying on the desk nearby. On top of Marvin’s laptop, to be exact. He peeked open his eyes when Chase sat down, then dismissed him and closed them again.

“No,” Marvin said stubbornly. “I’ll eat a lemon or something instead.”

“Well, first of all, that would be really sour so, uh, maybe not,” Chase pointed out. “And second of all, that’s Vitamin C.”

Marvin groaned again, this time clearly putting on an act. He pushed away the blankets and sat up, running fingers through his messy hair in an effort to semi-comb it. “I look like shit,” he muttered.

“Didn’t you have a hairbrush in here somewhere?” Chase asked, looking around. “Oh, there.” He stood up and walked over to the dresser to grab the brush, which he then handed to Marvin.

“Thanks,” Marvin said, accepting the brush and running it through his hair. He managed to untangle some of the worst of it when he stopped and put the brush on his nightstand. His eyes were cloudy, staring out the window with a vague, far-off gaze. Then he lowered his head into his hands. “Fuck this,” he said, a sob catching onto the end of his voice.

“Oh geez.” There was a tissue box on the dresser as well. Chase picked it up, pulled out a tissue, and handed it to Marvin. 

Marvin accepted the tissue, mumbling another “thanks” and pressing it to his eyes. He...well, he’d looked better. Chase was pretty sure he’d been in bed for at least a whole day. Which, Chase had to admit, he could relate to. Sometimes it was tough. And having your friend kidnapped wasn’t easy, for obvious reasons. Jameson had been missing for about three weeks now, and Marvin was having trouble with that. True, he hadn’t reacted this strongly when Jackie disappeared, but even then, he’d had to take a week to himself. And Chase knew that Marvin was pretty close with JJ. He hadn’t been crying about it as much lately, but it would still happen, seemingly triggered by him just...thinking about the situation.

“You need to drink some water, bro,” Chase said. “Losing all this, uh...moisture isn’t good.”

“Moisture?” That momentarily distracted Marvin as he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say ‘fluids.’ You probably would’ve called that out, too.”

“Ah, fair, I guess.” Marvin crumpled up the used tissue and dropped it into the trash bin he’d recently moved near the bed. “Anyway. What’s up with you? What’ve you been doing?”

“Hey, I’m serious about that water thing. You want me to go get a glass from the kitchen?”

“I...yeah, sure. I have a hydro flask in one of the cupboards, use that, not a glass. I don’t want to knock anything over.”

“Great. Be right back.” Chase stood up and hurried to the kitchen. He quickly found the water bottle in one of the cabinets, filling it up with tap water and a few ice cubes before heading back to the bedroom. When he returned, Marvin was lying down again, slowly petting Ragamuffin, who was sitting on the pillow nearby with his head on Marvin’s neck. Chase raised an eyebrow. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“Shhhh. You don’t know the fluffiness,” Marvin said.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve pet him many many times before.” Chase handed Marvin the water bottle. “Good thing I used the lid with the spout thing. Here. Drink that.”

“Mmm.” Marvin started sipping through the attached straw while Chase retook his usual position. After a while, he said, “Soooo...can I ask you what you’ve been doing now?”

“Well I mean...a lot,” Chase said. “I’ve been visiting Schneep and Jack. Both of them are looking a lot better. You should really come with one time, they’d both love to see you, probably Jack especially. Though I mean, talking might be a bit awkward at first. You ever heard of a communication board?”

“Of course. Is Jack using one of those?”

“Yeah, exactly. Cause his, uh, talking and moving isn’t up to par yet.” Chase rubbed the back of his head. “Also, uh...I’m trying to find out more about...Anti.”

“Wh...” Marvin stared at him. He set the water bottle down on the nightstand next to him. “Why?”

“I don’t know, man, I’m ju—I’m tired of not doing anything,” Chase said. “I thought, hey, maybe if I can find something out, I can...I dunno, really. Just help a bit.” He sighed. “I mean, it’s not exactly easy.”

“Oh I can imagine,” Marvin mumbled, reaching up to scratch Ragamuffin’s ears.

“Yeah, he’s a criminal, you know? And a good one. We didn’t even know he existed until Dr. Laurens escaped and confirmed that he did.” Chase made a frustrated noise. “So I mean, looking up news sources is hard. I’ve been trying to find mysterious deaths in the area, going back a few years, but that’s still a lot. And like, he’s gotta have a base somewhere, right? Where he’s keepin—where he has supplies and shit. But how do you find that? God, how did Jackie do this? Seriously, how do you be a detective?”

“Well Jackie, like, went to school for this,” Marvin reasoned. “He knew—knows tricks. What do you mean by news sources? Like, online?”

“Yeah. Why, do you think I should go to the library? Check out old newspapers?”

“I mean...if you’re looking online, maybe he has a website.”

Chase stared at Marvin for a solid thirty seconds. “I’m sorry. A website? A website...for a guy who kills people?”

“They exist,” Marvin said casually. “You remember how I got almost killed back in March?”

“How could I forget that?” The whole story was still pretty unbelievable to him. Marvin had been working for a seemingly normal clothing shop, but because of suspicious activity, decided to look into it. And he’d soon found out that the shop was a front for some sort of smuggling operation, with firearms involved. Not long after that, he’d been attacked on his way home from work, and very nearly died. It hadn’t taken too much thought to realize the shady people behind the operation were behind the attack. “That’s the whole reason you left suddenly.”

“Yeah.” Marvin nodded a bit. “Well, I got curious. I was like, how exactly do you hire someone to kill someone else? So I took my old laptop that I left at my grandma’s house, because like, whatever, it probably should’ve been e-recycled a while ago, or whatever they do. So it didn’t matter what I searched up there, cause I was gonna get rid of it after. And I searched up stuff. And long story short, there is...totally an online market for stuff like that.”

“I...you’re serious?” Chase asked, gaping at him.

“I wouldn’t mess with you about this.”

“It just...seems unbelievable. If there were websites like this, couldn’t the police find them?”

“Sometimes they do.” Marvin’s eyes darkened. “But...there’s a whole...section of the Internet that...isn’t...good. It’s like...for that exact stuff. And if Anti was hired to kill me, he has to have some way for people to...to contact him for stuff like that. A website would be good for that.”

“Oh,” Chase said softly, looking away as he contemplated this new information. It made sense, really. It was more that he didn’t want to believe there was something like that out there. But he had to. So he took a deep breath. “You, uh...know how I’d go about finding something like that?”

Marvin nodded slowly. He gently pushed Ragamuffin away, who didn’t seem to mind and just rolled over, and then sat up. “Hand me that spiral book and one of the pencils from the desk,” he said, pointing. Chase did so, and he started writing down a few things. It took a while, since he would occasionally stop, think about something, and erase and rewrite, but eventually he tore the page out and showed it to Chase. “Here. These are some of the websites I remember, mostly because of the, uh...memorable URLs. Don’t—don’t use a computer you want to keep or have a bunch of information on.”

Chase took the page, scanning the URLs Marvin had written down. There were five of them, and...yeah, he could see why these stuck with him. “Are you gonna do some searching, too? It’d probably go faster with two of us.”

“No.” Marvin immediately shook his head. “I only have my laptop right now, and I really don’t want to compromise that with viruses or anything. That model was expensive, and it’s so much trouble to replace.”

“Oh. Yeah, good point.” Chase hesitated. “Do you...I mean, if you wanted to help me look for Anti, that would be...good. Too. In whatever way.”

Marvin hesitated. Chase could see the battle going on mentally, his usual fiery nature contrasting with the lack of energy he’d clearly been having lately. “I mean...I guess I’ll help you if you need anything,” he finally said after a while.

“That’d be great, bro. I can talk about it when I come over,” Chase said. God, he’d been doing so much visiting lately. Going everywhere, all over the place. It was...tiring. And that wasn’t even including the weekends when he had the kids over at his house. Another reason he hadn’t been able to find much on Anti was because he just didn’t have the time to do any thorough searching. But this website thing seemed easy. He could do it when he got home. “Anyway, keep drinking water. You, like, really need it. And you don’t really get it until you don’t have it.”

“Speaking from personal experience?” Marvin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chase laughed. “Ah, you caught me. But seriously.”

“Alright, Chase, I understand.” Marvin picked up the water bottle again and started to sip.

——————

As it turned out, searching for illegal websites was not easy.

Chase had an old computer that he’d been keeping in his closet for ages, ever since he got a new, better one for playing and recording games. He dragged it out, booted it up, and set it through a factory restart, since Marvin had advised against having much personal information. From there, it was a bit of...a shot in the dark, really.

The search took a while. Chase was sure that looking at these websites was putting him on some sort of watchlist somewhere, and he couldn’t help but glance around the room every few minutes. Wasn’t there a video game like this, once? Jack had played it on his YouTube channel. Some game where you searched the messed-up dark side of the Internet. Yeah, that was the one where Jackie showed up in the second episode to help him with the puzzles and stuff. But that was just a game. This was real, and he was paranoid that someone would pop up in the window, staring at him.

By the time he found what he was looking for, it was well into the night, and Chase was positive that his browser had logged this worrying activity and possibly sent it to some agencies somewhere. But the search was a success. He’d clicked on a link reading ‘Antiseptic: For Taking Care of Infections.’ Harmless-sounding, if it hadn’t been on a website that listed several other websites, all somehow involving hiring someone to do shady shit for you.

The website from the link was, admittedly, pretty professional-looking. It could have been for a proper business. But it wasn’t. This was a website where you hired a hitman. And that hitman was Anti. Chase unconsciously leaned back from the screen as he clicked around the webpages. Something about rules, something about rates, something about reviews from customers (all anonymous, of course.) And an About page. Chase hesitated, then clicked on that.

The page that popped up had a bright red banner plastered across the top, reading: ‘IMPORTANT: I am not taking any new jobs for the time being. How long, you ask? Until further notice. Why, you ask? Something needs to be taken care of. Wait for your killing. Or go hire someone else.’ Blunt and to the point, while still being vague. Chase didn’t like the sound of ‘something needs to be taken care of.’ He had the strong suspicion that ‘something’ involved Jameson, and possibly Jackie.

He should tell the police about this website, right? It could be an important lead, not only in finding Jameson and Jackie, but in catching Anti altogether. Chase thought about it, and decided he would. But just in case, he’d keep the computer around and remember this URL. So he could search through this website on his own time.

It was late. He really should go to bed. Well, he might be too anxious to, after spending so much time looking at stuff like this, but he should try. But before he shut down the computer, he decided to check out the reviews section. What sort of reviews would a mercenary have?

He glanced at a couple of them, not wanting too many details, but suddenly stopped. The lowest rated review on the front page—god, killings had ratings, that was messed up—read: ‘Left a complimentary review in March when I thought he efficiently killed the target. But now, turns out the bitch is alive, and this bastard made me pay just for the CHANCE of going after him again. And he hasn’t even done it yet! Hurry up, you’—Chase winced at the word used—‘that Irish fucker could tell anyone by now!’

It was probably just a coincidence, but...the attack on Marvin’s life had happened back in March. And Marvin was Irish. And it had happened because some criminals thought he would tell...no, it was probably just a coincidence. It was a big world, after all.

Chase quickly wrote down the website’s URL and, just in case, the path he went through to get to it. He then closed the browser and shut down the computer. This was intriguing, but he’d have to look it over more later. He had to go tell the police about this the next day. It would have to be early in the morning. He had plans. More visiting to do.

——————

By now, Chase was pretty familiar with the visiting room at Silver Hills, as well as the visiting procedure. Enter, sign in who you were and who you were there to see, go wait in the visiting room, and after a while, the patient you were there to see would show up, along with a doctor in tow. Or, well, maybe the doctor was just for a few patients, to keep an eye on the ones who were somehow risky. Either way, the procedure hadn’t changed at all. He breezed right past it today, as always, and didn’t even have time to sit down before the other door in the room opened.

“Chase, my friend!” Schneep gave Chase a quick hug. “It is good to see you again so soon.”

“So soon? It’s been a week, like always.” Chase patted Schneep on the back before pulling away. “But it’s always nice to see you. You look good.”

“Ah, thank you.” Schneep smiled, a bit nervously, twisting his medical bracelet around his wrist.

“I’m serious, Doc.” And it was true; Schneep looked better than he had in a while. His skin had more color, and he’d gained a bit of weight. He was still pretty pale and thin, but it was a welcome, and noticeable, improvement. “Like, your hands aren’t shaking anymore.”

“Hmm?” Schneep looked down at his own hands, holding them still for a moment. “Oh yes. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Well that’s good,” Chase said encouragingly. “I mean, it’s gotta mean that they’ve figured out, like, medication and stuff.”

“Yes, I think so,” Schneep said, glancing over to the corner of the room where Laurens was sitting, working on something on a clipboard. “Things have stopped changing.”

“Great.” Chase sat down on one of the couches, patting the cushion next to him so Schneep would sit down, which he did. “Anyway, you said last week they’d be moving you back to your first room. Have they done that yet?”

Schneep’s expression brightened. “Yes, they have! Chase, it is so much improved. Even just looking through the window at the ground—well, the window does not open, which I understand, but even just that is so much better. I do wish they would let me wear my own clothes again, but I think that is happening soon.”

“Well it should.” Chase folded his arms, eyeing the plain white shirt and pants Schneep was wearing. “I don’t even understand. Is it that much of a risk?”

“Ah...” Schneep reached up to rub his neck. “Well, not for everyone. You say you do not understand, but I do.”

“If you’re okay with it, then,” Chase said slowly. “Oh, by the way, I brought you something.” He shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, pulling it around to hold in his lap while Schneep watched quizzically. “Stacy and the kids were baking, and they decided to drop some off, and I-I thought, well, I don’t know if there are like sweets in the hospital cafeteria or something, so...” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a plastic ziploc bag with a pair of chocolate chip cookies inside. “Here.”

“Oh really?!” Schneep gasped, immediately taking the bag.

“Yeah, really.”

“Thank you!” He wasted no time in opening the bag and taking out one of the cookies, biting into it.

Chase laughed. “I was right, huh? No sweets in the cafeteria?”

Schneep swallowed so he wouldn’t answer with his mouth full. “Well, there are sometimes. I think there is a schedule, maybe for every other day, I do not know. I only started going into the cafeteria...well, I did at the start, but then there was an incident, and—anyway, the point is, I have not been...attending, is that the word? For long enough to learn a schedule. I have only been allowed in the cafeteria and the, ah, rec room recently.”

“Really?” Chase kept a positive note in his voice. “That’s good, right? People say you need a change of environment.”

“Yes.” Again, Schneep glanced over at Laurens. “I hear it is advised. Which is one of the reasons why that—that other doctor was not good at her job.”

“Boy, you are so salty,” Chase said. “But you know what? Go ahead. She was an asshole.”

Schneep laughed.

Chase smiled. “Go ahead and be saltier than those, uh, fucking salt flats in America, or whatever.”

“S-salt flats?” Schneep was laughing so hard that it devolved into coughing. He had to take deep breaths to calm down.

“Yeah, they like, test the speeds of cars out in this spot in the middle of nowhere because it’s so flat. And it’s, like, made of salt, I think.”

“Is that a fact?” Schneep asked, amused.

Chase pulled out his phone. “Well I’m about to check if it is.”

The rest of the visit flew by. They talked about nothing, which was a welcome change of pace. Briefly, Chase considered telling Schneep about Jameson’s disappearance, as he had for the past two visits. But, just like those previous times, he decided against it. It would probably just upset him. And he didn’t even really know who Jameson was, apart from that one time he freaked out after seeing him. And that encounter certainly didn’t leave a good impression. So they talked about little things. Music, and movies, and what was happening with Chase’s kids. Small talk, yes, but it was the only chance they got to have this small talk each week.

Eventually, the time was up. Chase said goodbye and good luck, which Schneep returned, and left, heading back towards the front desk so he could check out.

Shortly after signing out on the visitor’s sheet, he heard footsteps. Chase looked up to see Dr. Laurens had followed him out. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” Chase nodded in greeting. “Uh...everything okay?”

“Yes. Why, are you expecting it to not be?”

“I dunno, it’s just that usually when a doctor talks to you after you finished visiting someone, it’s usually with some sort of news.”

Laurens laughed. “No, it’s all fine. Schneep is doing really well, you know, making a lot of progress. Obviously, it really helps that, ah...the head doctor is no longer holding me so tightly to regulations.” She said it delicately. “So he can actually get the help he needs.”

“Yeah, a doctor with a revenge plot isn’t exactly helpful,” Chase commented. “He wasn’t even the right person for that plot in the first place,” he added, muttering.

“Well I-I guess if you want to be blunt about it,” Laurens said. Clearly, that had never been her style. “Anyway, yes, everything’s going great. I just wanted to ask, I was going through his files recently and I noticed you were down as an emergency contact. Are you still okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure. He doesn’t really have any family who’d respond,” Chase said. “Am I the only one?”

“No, your friend Marvin is there, too,” Laurens said. “We, um, tried to contact his wife—or, uh, separated wife—Mina. She hasn’t responded, so I just thought I’d confirm.”

“Really? Did you, like, call her or mail her or something?” Chase asked, intrigued. Mina had sort of been a distant figure for a while. And even before she and Schneep separated, he hadn’t been too familiar with her. A bit odd, really.

“Yes, Schneep gave us her number and mailing address,” Laurens confirmed. “I guess he could have misremembered it, or she could have changed those. But the point is, no response. So you and Marvin are the only contacts.”

“Got it.”

“Great.” Laurens paused. “Um...do you need anything? I-I understand your other friend woke up, Jack. You’ve got to be pretty busy.”

“Yeah, really.” She didn’t know the half of it. It was...actually really tiring. But he refused to let this stop him anymore. But...Chase considered something, then leaned closer, and quietly said, “Hey, uh, you’re a therapist. Do you know any, like...other therapists? Not here, like, more casual places. That you go visit.”

“Oh yeah! Hang on a second.” Laurens flipped through the pages of her clipboard, unclipping a blank sheet at the back. She took her pen out from behind her ear and wrote something down. “Here. This is the agency I worked for before here. Well...I mean I worked here before. But then I quit and worked there, and came back here—you get the picture.” She laughed awkwardly. “Anyway, there’s a website I’ve written down there. They have listings for different therapists, sorted by specialties and methods, and including, uh, short biographies so you can get to know them a bit before you actually make a booking. So you can know what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks.” Chase took the piece of paper and looked it over. “That was...more information than I thought, really.”

“Well I wasn’t about to just recommend someone,” Laurens said. “That’s for you—or, uh, anyone who’s therapist-shopping.”

That got a laugh out of Chase. “Alright. Anyway, thanks again.” He folded up the paper and put it in his pocket. “I’ll see you next week.”

“See you,” Laurens waved as Chase left.

Yes, next week. Assuming nothing went wrong and she had to contact him beforehand. But it probably wouldn’t.

——————

The recreation room of Silver Hills was a large, wide room on the second floor. Schneep hadn’t been in there much. Of course, for a long time Dr. Newson hadn’t allowed it, on the basis of it being dangerous. But even when he first checked in, he didn’t go down to this room that often. Maybe once, to see what it looked like. He hadn’t exactly been in the right mental space for recreation at the time. Too...well, he supposed ‘paranoid’ might be the right word. He didn’t want to get too attached to the space in case this whole thing turned out to be a trick.

But now, he thought he should give it a try. Maybe it would be helpful, to have more to do. He might be able to take his mind off things.

The room had a wall with windows overlooking the front of the hospital, and two doors on the walls to either side. Because of safety concerns, the entertainment was a bit limited. For example, some rec rooms might have a pool table. Not here. Some might have cabinets with board games. Not here. But there was still several playing card games, some pinball machines, and a TV with access to television channels and able to stream movies. There were three tables, each with a cluster of chairs, a couple sofas and armchairs near the TV, and paintings on the wall as decoration.

There were several people already in the room when Schneep peeked in. Mostly patients, with a few orderlies sitting around, identifiable by their uniforms. A group was sitting at one of the tables playing a card game, a couple were at a different table talking to each other and drawing with crayons—maybe a bit childish, but Laurens had stated that colored pencils weren’t allowed—and a few more were sitting around the TV, watching. A few of them had paused whatever they were doing to look over towards the door when it opened, and Schneep immediately froze.

“You okay?” Oliver, the usual orderly, was accompanying him to the room. They still hadn’t lightened up the rule about him being able to walk around on his own, though Laurens had said she was working on it. “Do you want to go back?”

“Nein, no no, I am fine,” Schneep muttered, stepping further into the room and looking around. He couldn’t help but notice he was the only one wearing the standard-issue white shirt and pants. Was that why some of them were staring at him? Or did they just like staring at people?

“Alright, just tell me if there’s anything wrong,” Oliver said, walking in behind him and keeping to the edges of the room, as he usually did.

Schneep nodded vaguely, glancing around to give everyone in the room a second look. Unfamiliar, all of them. There was one, part of the group playing cards, who was really staring at him, but everyone else had turned away, so that was probably her problem more than anything. Folding his arms—well, it wasn’t technically folding his arms, he just sort of grabbed each elbow with a hand—Schneep walked over to the seats by the TV and sat down in the nearest empty armchair. This was fine. That one other patient had stopped staring by now and looked back at the card game, which meant that nobody was looking at him. And that was good. Well, Oliver was there, keeping an eye on things. But nobody was watching him. Really. Nobody was. He didn’t see anyone looking. Everything was fine.

Okay, time to see if he could distract himself. What was on the TV? Schneep took a deep breath as he checked it out. It was definitely a movie of some kind, live-action, but not one that was familiar to him. It had that appearance of an older movie, something in the grain of the film or the delivery of the lines giving away that it was at least a couple decades old. Huh. That was...interesting.

“Hey.”

Schneep jumped, looking to the side. A man was looking at him. Sitting on one of the sofas, near the end closest to his own chair. “Ja? Um, yes?”

“Are you new here?” The man didn’t look too intimidating. Sandy blonde hair and freckles, wearing a blue t-shirt. He had a medical bracelet on his wrist, too.

“No, not at all,” Schneep said. “Why?”

“I just didn’t recognize you. I’ve been here a couple months, I think I recognize the usual crowd in the room. How long’ve you been?”

“Um...” Schneep paused for a second to do the math. It was now November, so that was...“A half a year.”

“Oh.” The man’s eyebrows shot upward.

“Yes, I, um, have not been in this room much. I was not—things were not...not good,” Schneep said awkwardly.

“Ohhhh.” The man nodded in understanding. “I see. I’m Finn, by the way.”

“Henrik.”

“Henrik? Are you—I mean, I don’t want to assume, but your accent, uh, are you German?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you. The same.” This was starting to feel a bit awkward. Or maybe it was just him, Finn seemed perfectly comfortable. Schneep turned away, looking back at the TV. “What...is this?”

“The movie? Uh...I don’t know.” Finn shrugged. “I came in when it was already playing. I think Kellie chose it. But it’s, like, something about cars? And this family where the dad’s an inventor? I don’t know. It’s a musical.”

“Hm.” Schneep glanced around the room again. Was there anything else to do? The card game group was starting something new, one of them shuffling the deck. No, no. He didn’t want to interrupt. Maybe he could ask for some drawing supplies from the two who were coloring. Laurens did a drawing exercise with him once, and it had actually been kind of fun. Oh, wait, was there someone new here? There was something moving in the corner of his vision. It could just be in his head, but he turned to look anyway—

The moment he caught full sight of the movement, he cried out, jumping backwards and awkwardly falling out of the chair. He landed on his back, legs still up in the air, but quickly scrambled to his feet, looking back towards what he’d seen.

No. Nobody was there. But it was near one of the room’s doors, what if he left? What if he was—everyone was staring at him. They all were, they all had to be.

“Are you alright?” Finn asked, a concerned expression on his face.

“I-I-I—” Schneep backed up, once again assuming the folded arms position from before. “Don’t—look at me.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Finn looked away.

Schneep shuddered a bit, eyes fixed on the point where he saw—he couldn’t really have been there, it must have been in his head. It’s happened before. He’s seen him before...in his head. It. It was the same now. Had to be. Just. Just in his head. Not real.

But he couldn’t fully convince himself. Slowly, he backed up until he hit the nearest wall. Oliver, who’d been sitting nearby, stood up and walked over. “Do you need anything?” he asked quietly.

“I-I—am—will go back to safe—to my room,” Schneep stammered.

“Alright, let’s go then.” Oliver gestured to the door. Not the one that was close to...what he’d seen. Schneep nodded vaguely, and walked over to the door and out, with the orderly trailing behind him. Once they were out of the room, Oliver asked, “Anything else?”

Schneep took a deep breath in, then out. In, then out. It was a relaxation technique, and concentrating on that helped. Gave his brain something to do. “I...the hospital is—is very secure, yes? You cannot break in?”

“It’d be very difficult,” Oliver agreed. “You’d need a key card. And we do have security cameras. Someone would notice.”

“Good. Very good.” In. Out. In. Out. Laurens had reassured him many times before. Anti couldn’t get in here. So what he saw...it must have been...not real.

I’m real as ever, Henrik.

Schneep almost responded, but then firmly shut his mouth. It didn’t help to acknowledge the voices. It didn’t help to acknowledge any of them, even if he wanted to. Everything was going to be okay. This was a safe place. He didn’t have to worry about anything.

He kept reminding himself of these facts even hours after the incident. Anti couldn’t get in here. It wasn’t possible. This was a safe place. Everything was going to be okay.

——————

Well that was a failed test run.

Anti flipped the keycard between his fingers, watching it twirl through the air as he leaned back in his desk chair. He hadn’t been expecting to be spotted. They didn’t know what he looked like, and he had a small disguise, just in case. He thought that hiding his scars and darkening his hair would be enough to prevent him from being noticed. But apparently, he’d left quite an impression on the good doctor.

No one would believe him, of course. Judging by that psychiatrist’s notes, the one in the turquoise notebook, spotting Anti was a common hallucination of Schneep’s. No one would know that it was real, this time. But still. It was the principle.

Sitting up straight, Anti swiveled in his chair to face a computer monitor. The screen was divided into four sections, each showing a different angle of a single room with pale yellow walls and a pair of bunk beds. Maybe four cameras was overkill, but better safe than sorry. It looked like the two people in the room were having a conversation. He turned on the audio so he could listen in.

“—never had any siblings,” Jackie was saying, slowly swaying from side to side where he was sitting in one of the chairs. “Mom wasn’t very, uh—I-I was a miracle baby. Though sometimes I joke that I had a sister, but really it was me before I transitioned.”

So I’m the only one in the group, JJ signed. He was sitting in the other chair at the table, across from Jackie. Each of them had a plate in front of them with a sandwich and a bottle of juice.

“Yeah. Unless you count Chase’s sister-in-law, but eh. None of us do.” Jackie shrugged.

JJ laughed a bit, which soon faded. I should have asked about your family sooner, Jackie. Even before...all of this happened. I’m sorry.

“No, it’s fine,” Jackie reassured him. “I mean, family was probably a thing for you, right? Considering...this whole situation.”

Jameson nodded, looking a bit paler.

Watching the conversation, Anti frowned. That was hardly fair.

Anyway, I’d much rather talk about other people’s families, for obvious reasons, JJ continued. Like...for example, your friend Henrik. He doesn’t have any siblings either?

“No. And, uh, before you can ask about his parents...they’re assholes.” Jackie’s voice turned bitter. “They don’t live here, they’re back in Germany, and he’s very glad for that.”

Ah. Sorry for asking.

“No, it’s fine. Really.” Jackie frowned, and sat up straight. “You, uh...I-I don’t remember you apologizing as much before,” he said slowly. “Are you...okay?”

Jameson started to sign sorry, but then caught himself. He leaned over onto the table, briefly hiding his head in his arms before signing, I was working on that with my therapist. But now, it’s just all...He couldn’t even find the words and just threw his hands up in the air before hiding his head in his arms again.

Jackie leaned forward and placed his hand on Jameson’s arm. “It’s fine. We’re, uh...under a lot of stress. It makes sense that you’d, uh...things would happen again. It’s not wrong or anything. I think you’re doing great.”

Anti switched off the audio and looked away. Nothing was wrong with apologizing. It certainly wasn’t something you needed to talk to a therapist about. In fact, why did Jameson even need a therapist? He was fine.

Well...no, he wasn’t. Because he was different. Anti had backed off for a bit, giving him space to adjust, and then started talking with him again. Not for very long, but he’d come into the room, Jackie would back off and stay quiet, and he’d talk to Jameson. The goal was to regain trust, but it just wasn’t working. Jameson was anywhere from unresponsive to aggressive towards him. He didn’t get it. Yes, the initial approach wasn’t good, he’ll admit that. But what else was he supposed to do? He was trying to make up for it. The room was starting to get a bit crowded with all the things he’d given him. Books, a music player, even a beanbag chair. Anything he wanted.

Well, almost anything. He couldn’t give him everything right away, otherwise there would be nothing left for good behavior.

Anti sighed. And once again, he twirled the keycard through his fingers. And it gave him an idea. What if...one of those rewards...yes, that might work.

That might work indeed.

Anti slowly grinned, and opened up his calendar to figure out when would be the best time to enact the plan that was forming in his mind.

[artificialqueens]

Flower Files, Part 4 (Malaska, Courtya) - Albatross

AN: Been awhile but I’m hoping to get back into posting soon!

Bonus points if you know what anime inspired chapter 7!

Chapter 7: Malaska

A perfectly sunny day, a light breeze, and a casual stroll through the botanical gardens with her girlfriend…what more could Alaska want on a Saturday afternoon?

She used to visit the garden often as a kid, both with her family and with her school. It was one of her favorite memories from childhood and now as an adult, she’s come to love the gardens even more. There was just something so relaxing about wandering through all the rows of flowers and trees, watching the birds and butterflies dart through and around you, sitting on one of the cozy little benches as the ducks and geese swam around the many man-made ponds. She could hardly believe it when Manila had told her that she’d never been to the gardens before!

She booked their tickets for the following weekend, excited to share the beauty of the gardens with someone for the very first time. And Manila’s first reaction didn’t disappoint. As soon as they stepped beyond the ivy covered entrance gate, her eyes went wide with glee and wonder.

Everywhere you turned there was an overflowing abundance of colorful plants, sculptures or wildlife. Butterflies flew haphazardly between the people, sampling all the flowers as they spread out their beautiful wings. Birds sang in the trees, picked seeds or bugs from the plants, or drank from the babbling bird baths scattered through the park. The air smelled absolutely fragrant and alive as you passed between all the clusters of different flowers.

She looked so blissfully dazed as she rushed from one display piece to the next, determined not to miss anything. Manila read through all the little placards she could find, learning about the history of the gardens, donation stories of particular plant species or sculptures, or simply how to identify the different animals and insects that also visited the garden.

Alaska hung back, letting Manila explore at her own pace, as she drank the iced tea she bought from the kiosk next to the Conservatory. She wanted to save the indoor portion of the garden for last; it was, in her opinion, the most impressive of everything the nature preserve had to offer. And Manila was fine with waiting until the end to see it, though it certainly did pique her curiosity.

In the meantime, they made a loop around the landscape, visiting the pollinator fields, the hedge maze and topiary section, even catching one of the fountain shows that played every hour. As they finally circled back to the Conservatory, Manila felt a rush of excitement as they opened the doors to the expansive greenhouse.

Alaska was right to save it for last, Manila thought to herself. 

The first step inside absolutely took her breath away; full grown trees greeted them, as did hanging clumps of flowers and vines. The middle of the floor was sunken in and flooded, curtesy of the miniature waterfall at the other end of the room being fed from an outdoor pond. Floating plants drifted with the man-made current, swirling gently to create a mesmerizing sight. Lily pads littered the surface in so many colors that Manila could hardly believe it; it was like seeing one of Monet’s paintings in real life!

Everywhere she looked, there was a new species of plant that she had never seen before; all of them so bright and eye catching. Manila insisted on visiting every section of the greenhouse that was open to the public, including the children’s garden. Alaska followed behind, snapping a few pictures here and there, sometimes of the flowers but most of her girlfriend’s infectious smile.

As she was trying to focus her phone’s camera on a clump of blue and purple hydrangeas, Alaska felt a pair of arms wrapping snuggly around her waist. A swift kiss was pressed to her cheek just before she heard Manila urging, “Follow me!”

“Okay,” Alaska laughed, taking a quick picture and shoving her phone back into her pocket, “Why though?”

“I found something that reminds me of you!” she boasted, a secretive little smile playing out on her lips.

Unfortunately, Alaska was all too familiar with this situation. Certain memories of childhood teasing that were best left forgotten began to creep in at the edges of her mind. Sighing heavily, she dragged her feet and warned, “Is it that statue? Because I’ve already heard that joke before.”

Too much, she thought bitterly. She could almost hear her classmates comparing her to the gangly, oversized statue once again. The one whose limbs looked stretched until they barely resembled a human’s. The one whose perfectly pale marble expression looked almost like an imitation of The Scream and whose creepy pose of outstretched arms reaching for the flowers surrounding her haunted several children’s nightmares. The one that utterly and completely towered over most kids that came to visit…except for Alaska, of course. It’s head was only a few inches higher than her own when her class had visited the gardens in elementary school but the similarities of skin tone, height, and awkward proportions were more than enough for her classmates to compare her to the disturbing looking fixture.

As Manila continued to drag Alaska towards what she had discovered, she twisted her head around to look at her girlfriend with a mild degree of confusion. “Statue?” she asked curiously.

“The one they put in the middle of the children’s garden?” Alaska explained. Upon seeing Manila’s blank face, she added in with a groan, “The creepy one that looks like a cousin of slenderman? ‘Flower girl’, it’s called, I think?”

Shaking her head, Manila replied, “No…just wait, it’s over here.” 

Rounding the last corner of the pathway, Manila led her on for another 3 yards before stopping in the small clearing surrounding a miniature fountain. Pointing proudly to the Birds of Paradise encircling the bubbling water fixture, Manila exclaimed, “These!”

Leaning heavily against her girlfriend, Manila laced their fingers together as she explained, “These remind me of you cause they’re so unique. There’s nothing else around here that looks like them, or are as colorful…And it kinda looks like they’re all facing the sun, the way you do. You always keep your head up and try to see the positive in everything.” Pressing a swift, gentle kiss to Alaska’s jawline, Manila concluded with, “They just make me happy to look at, like you do. That’s why I thought of you when I found them.”

A rush of warmth quickly spread through Alaska’s chest until it was concentrated right at the center of her heart. Her emotions felt like they were bubbling to surface only to get caught in her throat leaving her unable to truly express just how happy and loved she felt. Instead all she could do was pull Manila in for a proper kiss, passionate and deep, letting her actions explain everything her tongue couldn’t.

When they reluctantly broke apart, foreheads resting against one another and perfectly jubilant smiles stretching across both women’s lips, Alaska finally found the voice to speak. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?” she whispered low enough for only them alone to hear.

“Only with you,” Manila replied coyly. “You wanna go check out the rest of the greenhouse now?”

Laughing, Alaska pulled away and took another appreciative look at the flowers. “In a minute,” she said. “I wanna look at these just a little longer.”

Chapter 8: Courtya

It took almost three full days but Katya was finally unpacked. A brand new apartment, all her own, that she could enjoy for the first time in her life. From the time she started college, moved out of her parent’s house, and all the way up until this last promotion at work, she’d always lived with at least one other person. Sometimes family, sometimes a girlfriend but usually just someone she sort of got along with and could help pay rent. She never had a place that was wholly and truly her’s…until now. 

To say she was excited would be a massive understatement; it felt like a huge milestone she’d been putting off because she never felt financially secure or even just brave enough at times to try living alone. But now that time was finally here; a chance to make this space her own. A chance to turn this apartment into a home.

Arranging the move and packing up everything had been the easy part, she soon discovered. The unpacking and reorganizing…not so much. But then again, order and discipline never really was her strong suit. Often she found herself getting so sidetracked looking for  just one specific thing among all the boxes, that she’d forget to put away anything else in the meantime. It added quite a bit of time to her unpacking and usually led to a rather large mess in most of her rooms. 

But after working almost nonstop for three days straight, everything eventually found a place in her new home. All that was left was to place the flattened boxes outside with the recyclables and dispose of all the packaging supplies. Then she could relax and settle in for this new chapter of her life.

Somewhere between the move itself on Friday and the unpacking that took over the majority of her weekend, Katya managed to spare a few minutes to answer her texts. Most were congratulatory, others offered moving tips or even to come and help. But one person actually asked if they could come over for a visit; Courtney.

A rush of giddiness swept through Katya in spite of the exhaustion seeping out from every pore. She couldn’t think of a better first houseguest than Courtney…and with any luck she can recommend a good restaurant or two nearby while Katya tried to find the energy to go grocery shopping. 

Her fingers typed out her new address at a lightning quick speed and within minutes Courtney announced that she was on her way over. 

If anyone asked, Katya would deny to her last breath that a delighted little squeal emanated from her lips as she read the message. No, she would simply say that she reviewed the text calmly , set down her phone on the kitchen counter, and walked over to the bathroom to freshen up. Because after all, who, after spending a long, exhausting day running around their apartment, moving furniture to just the right spot, arranging all of their little knickknacks and collectibles perfectly on the shelves and tucking away all of the other housing essentials, wouldn’t want to take a nice, hot shower and clean up a little? Particularly if they knew that company near and dear to their heart would be coming over very soon. 

So one quick shower and a fresh pair of clothes later, Katya was back to laying on the couch and anxiously awaiting a knock on her door. Just a few minutes after her TV show flipped to the next episode, Courtney announced her presence. 

Katya sprung from the couch and opened her front door with an exuberant smile on her face. Courtney’s excitement easily matched Katya’s own as a wide grin stretched from ear to ear, brightening the world around her. 

“Congrats on the new apartment!” she commended. Somehow her smile seemed to grow as she raised the leafy parcel in her hands. “Brought you a housewarming gift.”

Courtney held out a large, vibrant plant towards Katya, earning a muffled sound of joy. Eagerly accepting the gift, Katya wrapped her hands around the pot, letting her fingers brush against Courtney’s as they carefully exchanged ownership. 

“Thanks!” Katya exclaimed, carefully examining her new plant, “You shouldn’t ha-” Wait a minute. Her smile fell into something of a pout as the excitement quickly drained from her voice. ”…this is plastic,” she said flatly.

“Uh huh,” Courtney agreed, a pleasant smile still plastered on her face. Her eyes, however, now held a teasing glint in them. “And after you prove you can take care of this little guy, I’ll buy you a real one.” Her lips curled into a smirk as she continued on with, “You know, finding a nice sunny spot to put it, rotating the pot, dusting it every now and then. Perhaps even… weekly,” she mocked in a stage-whisper.

“You fucking bitch,” Katya grinned, side stepping the door. “Come on in…By the way, you wanna get something to eat with me? I’m starving.“

[kaijutegu]

Decolonize your conservation conversations!

Does this sound like you? You’re a person who cares about the environment. Generally, you try to be pretty ethical, and you care about causes pretty deeply. You’re kind of removed from global biodiversity hotspots- maybe you live in urban/suburban USA, like most of this blog’s readers, and maybe you don’t really think of conservation as much of a human rights issue. Maybe you think we’re the “bad guys,” but you’re not really sure or you don’t think much about who “we” are. You don’t have a super deep connection to the land, and you’re not an expert- but you care about the environment, you recycle, you carry a reusable water bottle, you take public transit, carpool, or bike when you can. Wherever you live, these are probably options you have available to some extent. Maybe you listened to a lot of Raffi as a kid or watched Captain Planet, or really just kinda like this planet and all the creatures on it- but you maybe struggle with talking in depth about conservation. You get a lot of ideas and you read a lot of things, but most of the time everything seems like it’s Good or Bad.

Perfect. You’re great. Let’s talk. This post is for you. This is how you can empower yourself and others and help steer the conversation around conservation. This is how you can help foster a better understanding of some of the subtler issues surrounding global biodiversity, and this is how you can do it in a way that doesn’t put the burden on easy targets who are part of a much larger system.

When you talk about conservation issues, you can’t forget the humans who live there- wherever “there” is in this case. Consider why they might be in a situation where poaching isn’t just the best option, it might be the only option. What other resources and opportunities do they have in these communities? Is the available labor fair? How has the history of geopolitical/economic development affected the area? You just need the basics, really, for these considerations. You don’t need to be an expert. You shouldn’t feel guilty- you’re not responsible for the actions of the past- but you should feel a quiet sense of resolve. Feel your back get a little stiffer? That’s you realizing how much better these conversations will be if you look at the big picture. You can do better. You can make things better, and a great way to start is by looking at the language you’re using and the way you think about countries other than your own. This is especially true if your country has benefited from having colonies (or things that function as colonies- territories, holdings, dependencies, dominions, protectorates, that sort of thing all count). 

The answer to global biodiversity loss and endangered species conservation is not what a lot of generally well-meaning people think it is, because there’s a crucial puzzle piece missing from many are willing to talk about- and that’s people. We’re animals, too, and we are not exempt from food webs. We are not exempt from water cycles. We might be able to mitigate some of the negative, but not all of us can- and none of us can forever. We’ve created a mess of things, certainly- but that doesn’t mean we can’t do things to fix it. 

But the way we have to think about fixing things cannot involve calling for the elimination of human groups. First, advocating for the eradication of human communities is wrong. Do not advocate for mass murder.  Someone far more eloquent than I am explained this beautifully. And it’s not just mass murder- the way we talk about how individual poachers should be punished isn’t useful for justice at all. By and large, advocating for murder usually doesn’t solve most problems, and frankly, the death of one poacher isn’t going to do anything for conservation. Second, it’s just plain not fair. Ecological degradation is a global problem, and in many, many cases, the root cause of the problems are not the people in the closest proximity. However, they are often the ones who bear the burden of habitat loss and diminished biodiversity. It’s fine for us here in the USA to say “killing an elephant is morally wrong,” but what do you do when you’re a subsistence farmer who’s looking at a lost growing season again because that elephant has destroyed your crops for the fifth time and you know a guy who can get you ten years’ worth of wages for the tusks, plus you, your family, and all your neighbors can eat off that animal for ages? 

But conservation also doesn’t work when you don’t take local agency, power, and needs into account, and this is what I mean by decolonize your conservation conversations. The next time you see an article about a poacher who was killed by animals, quietly look up that area and see what life is like there. Look up that area specifically- the life of someone who lives in Nairobi is going to be very different than a subsistence farmer. It’s a little extra work, but without it, these conversations are meaningless. 

Another trap to avoid is thinking that anybody else can just go in and fix the problem. That’s like putting a band-aid on a broken leg after the doctor told you that you need to pay them to put a cast on. In this metaphor, the broken leg is the environment, the doctor is the people who live there, the cast is sustainable, long-term conservation methods, the band-aid is foreign aid without local investment, and the ‘pay the doctor’ part is investing in the work that locals are doing. Conservation only works when it’s driven by and for the people who actually live around these places, and no two ecosystems are the same. If you don’t acknowledge the reality of the situation you’re looking at, you’re missing the point entirely. “Save the rainforest!” is a slogan. It means nothing. What rainforest? Why’s it in danger? Who’s threatening it? Why is it being threatened? It’s all well and good to go in and set up, like, a giraffe orphanage or something- but what happens when you run low on money and you have no long-term business plan and you never hired any locals because you can get tourists to come down and pay for the privilege of working with you? Is your plan sustainable? How are you helping the people who know these animals best, who live alongside them? How are you supporting the people who also have to survive? Is your giraffe orphanage respecting local knowledge and contributing to the community that makes it possible? Are you perpetuating a power imbalance that favors you, the visitor, over the people who live there? Power imbalances ruin everything, and that is something that's easy to miss when you’re first thinking about conservation. Also: money is power. What are these country’s resources and where are they going?

What areas of the world have the most biodiversity loss? Land that’s rich in resources (or was) around the equator. These losses are largely linked to industry, but more than just industry, industry for export- and in most cases, non-reciprocal export. One of the effects of colonialism is that trade back to the colonial power wasn’t equitable. Resources were extracted, but recompense was not rendered in currency, other resources, or infrastructure investments outside of colonial capitals and administrative centers. These weren’t fair trade agreements- they created a lot of wealth for the colonial powers, and massive resource deficits for the colonies. That’s still happening, even if countries have self-governance. So thinking about Indonesia- Indonesia’s losing its forests to logging, and that wood ain’t staying in Indonesia. It’s going all over the world. Unfortunately, Indonesian logging is done in such a way that wildlife traffickers and poachers have an extremely easy job- they just come in and clean up. Some live animals get whitewashed into the pet trade (Indonesia makes up its animal export data); others, and many of the dead ones go to the mainland for the traditional medicine trade. Internal demand for wildlife products in most former European/USAmerican colonies is not the biggest threat to global biodiversity. It’s external demand.

So what to do? Stop global trade? That’s not going to happen- it’s not a real solution. Remove people, create total reserves where nobody can go near the land? Also not a real solution. Putting the entire burden on people whose lives have already been drastically changed by colonialism’s history? Not a solution, and you shouldn’t be asking for that. 

Still with me? Good, because this is the fun part! Here’s a baby mountain gorilla as a bit of a palate cleanser.

The good news is that animals themselves are a valuable resource, and if an economy can shift to include that, conservation can become so much easier. My favorite example of this is Rwanda.

Rwanda has a tragic, complicated past with a long history of violence, and their historical conflicts have largely been driven by the fact that the country was treated as a resource extraction point by colonial powers and that these colonial powers used racism as a method to control workers. But as the country has rebuilt in the wake of the chaos of the early 1990s that preceded and followed the civil war and genocide, the ecotourism industry has created an incredible layer of protection around the highly endangered mountain gorilla AND around the Rwandan people. Ecotourism has created a significant number of jobs in the service industry and construction, spurred infrastructure (gotta build roads for the tourists!), made school more accessible to Rwandan children and teenagers, and has really changed the face of the country's economy... so much so that tourism is the single most important industry in the country- that is where Rwanda’s money is coming from these days. This works because the conservation efforts don’t focus on just the animals. They focus on the people. Village co-ops make decisions about what happens in their area. Conservation is being done in such a way that people who once leaned heavily on bushmeat are now able to feed their families through more sustainable practices- and when they do want bushmeat, they’ve got better access to more common, sustainably hunted species. It’s increased access to domestic livestock through grants from various conservation programs and from visitors- 90% of the Rwandan population is subsistence farmers. This has directly led to a stable population increase, which is unheard of for great apes (other than us, of course). Most great ape populations are shrinking year by year, but in 2018, mountain gorillas passed the 1,000 individual milestone for the first time in decades. In Rwanda, that represents a 25% increase in the population between 2010 and 2018. This is working. 

Also: they employ the poachers. Why? Simple, they know where the animals are. They become park rangers, guides, arborists- they are integral to this conservation effort. Something that’s often very hard to wrap the Western mind around is that while we see these animals as exotic, those are the local wildlife. If you’re a Rwandan living near the Volcanoes National Park, where the mountain gorillas live, you’ve heard about them. You know, or someone you know knows, where they hang out. Some of the fiercest protectors of wildlife are the people who once hunted it- not because they’ve had some incredible change of heart, but because they’ve had a change of situation. This works. Seriously. In one five-year development period, local income for five rural communities in the target area increased 846%, and almost 2,500 permanent jobs in natural resource management and tourism management were created. That’s in one area on one project alone. Funding locally-driven initiatives is something that really, really helps. By partnering and working with multinational non-profits, there’s a level of accountability re: corruption and best practices, but by centering local participation and leadership, conservation organizations can actually create long-term, effective change.

So, what can you do? Just keep talking. Jump into conversations about conservation with a more nuanced perspective! 

Look for the root of the problem- why does poaching exist in the first place?

Recognize that the people who know the area best- the people who live there- are the ones who need to make decisions about how to use the land and its resources.

Acknowledge that colonialism’s effects haven’t faded and that history affects the present.

Emphasize the work of local leaders in conservation initiatives. 

Don’t put the burden of defending local practices on people who didn’t benefit from colonialism the same way you might have- instead, loop back to looking for the root of the problem.

Remember the humans. 

Keep the conservation conversation going - use talking points like Rwanda’s ecotourism industry as a positive example of how successful eco-geared development can be.

[linkspooky]

he flies he lies  hawks realizes that he has been telling the truth to the villains and lying to the heroes / For @villainmonth /edit by @inumaqi fic by @linkspooky

“Listen I want you to trust what I’m about to say.” “Those are some pretty serious words you’re saying…” 

♘

If you have wings, you should fly. That is what Hawks always believed. Feathers were designed by god to catch the air, they did not fall, they floated down. He could pluck one of his feathers, throw it into the sky and watch it dance. 

That was what freedom looked like. But looks were deceiving. His quirk manifested at four years old. He still remembered, terrified of the bulges that had formed on his back, but they could not afford a doctor. Trash that littered the floor, and parents that did not look his way because they considered himself like the garbage that piled up, something that needed to be thrown out. Hawks remembered thinking several times as he looked up at the sky, if he could escape to the sea or the sky, he would have flown away from here in an instant. His pain was prolonged for an entire month as something budded from his back. It felt like vines were growing out from him, and he felt every single thorn as they snaked out in the layers between his skin, and wrapped around his spine. He was cut, again and again, inside and out. Then one day, the skin on his back broke. He woke up with two long rivulets of blood streaming down from both sides of his back, an injury that made him look like an angel who had both wings ripped away from his flesh. Then at his upper backs, two large bones had emerged covered in feathers. 

On that first day he pulled those feathers old with a pair of rusty gardening shears out of fear because he did not know what was happening. A mess of blood, and feathers, and two wings plucked raw, but they grew back. It was when he spread his wings for the first time, that he realized he could not leave the ground. There was nowhere for him to fly. Nowhere he could escape to. 

♘

Hawks always had a feeling that he was lighter than air. That there was not enough of himself to fill up his own body. Birds needed to be that way in order to fly, their bones were hollow, and their lungs took up most of their body mass filling them with air. He had the same feeling, nothing inside of him, deep down to his bones. 

Wherever he walked his feet didn’t touch the ground. He was not flying so much as floating, transparent, hollow, he simply hovered there like a ghost with no substance. It was easy for him to smile, because there was no feeling behind the gesture to him. 

When he was younger he never smiled, he found no reason to, and one day he noticed the adults around him were a bit softer on him if he forced the muscles in his face to pull back his lips. Whatever was inside of him, he was sure it was not a hero. Not like All Might, never like him. He was hair, feathers, talons, scars, and bones. He was all of that, and he was still nothing. He was the blood in his body, but maybe only air flowed through his veins. There were holes in his bones. No, there were holes in Hawks. The air simply passed right through him. He was someone who was simply there. He was there and yet not there. But Hawks used this quality of his. Useless children were like trash piling up in the Takami Household, they were knocked down to the floor, and then they were eventually thrown away. He could smile when he did not feel like smiling. He could always continue to smile, even when there was no reason. He just needed to keep flying. Fly up, up, and up. And forget about crashing down back to earth. 

He just had to keep smiling, even now. That was what he told himself, as Jeanist turned his head back to look at him. “It’s rare for you to come visit me like this.” “How are you feeling?” Hawks, dressed like a model, his hair combed back and feathered, his wings stretching to relax. He took nothing seriously, he never had so much as a heavy thought cross his mind. Burdened by nothing, carefree, that was the “Hawks” that he showed to Jeanist. “Much better than before!” “Didn’t you ask that old lady over at UA for help?” “Unfortunately, she can’t recover something that has already been lost.” 

Hawks knew that already. For example if you sever a limb, an arm, a leg, or maybe your own heart. It’s impossible to recover, the only thing left is the phantom pain from something that is no longer there, and a feeling of missing something. 

Nothing held any weight for him. Not even a human life held that much in his hands. What he was about to do did not show on his face at all, not even a twitch of regret and Hawks wondered for a moment if he could do this and feel nothing if he was someone really worthy of being called a hero. 

Heroes saved other people. Hawks could not save anyone, not even himself. 

“Even with a missing lung, we humans can continue to live. I’ll probably go public with this soon. There are many awaiting my reformation.” “I see!” 

Liar. Humans could not continue to live. They were so fragile. They died so easily. That always weighed on his mind. The more weight he had, the harder it was to fly. When he saw butterflies, all he thought of was their fragility. He could let a butterfly land on his hands, and at any moment, tear both of his wings from his body and rip them to pieces, then scatter them like a flower. The faint beating of a butterfly’s wings. The paper thing wings, the fragile line between life and death, so easily torn up and full of holes. It moved in time with the quiet murmur of his heart. His wings flexed and spread behind his back. 

He always wondered when his feathers grew, why they turned from white to red. His feathers were bleeding, red with streaming blood. His feathers were burning, red as the flames. 

Like a white flower. Spilled blood would dye it red. It would glow red with flames. 

“That’s quite unfortunate.” Hawks wore, a predatory smile, a bird about to devour carrion. He held his sharpened feather in his hand cutting his fingers on the edges. He was killing someone already as good as dead. He felt nothing, but also he felt -fragile.

More scared than the butterfly. His bones were hollow and soon they would shatter like glass. 

He was not flying, not at all. His feet did not touch the ground because he was hanging in suspension. The rope tightened around his neck, but he took a step forward off the chair to fall. The wind whipped him back and forth. All he could do was sway, and hope when this was all over someone would take his body down. He died by slow suffocation. He was free, surrounded entirely by air, and he could not breathe.

Hawks knew, killing Jeanist would be as good as killing himself. In that moment he would die. But, he would not be allowed to die either. Even after sacrificing his life there was more he could sacrifice, more the hero commission could take from him. Hawks thought it was funny, he never thought he had much to begin with, no connection to his name, no nest to roost in, and nothing inside of him but hollow bones and yet somehow the hero commission always took more. Being a hero was all he had. He brought the feather up, and slashed it behind Jeanist’s back, killing him like a coward. But, he could not call himself a hero anymore.

♘

The only piece that matters on the board is the king, the rest are all considered disposable. In shogi a player could still win as long as their king remained. Hawks was a useful knight, even a general, but he was someone who could never become king. A king had worth, and he was damaged goods, recycled and put to use by the hero commission after his parents threw him away. He flew through the air, trying to forget the body he had stuffed in a bag. If Jeanist was still here, if he could hear him, Hawks could only say that whatever happened to him in the end would be far worse. 

He saw this image in his dreams so many times. His feathers burning up in front of him, he watched them combust. They fell away from him like glittering stars. Sparkling, sparkling, sparkling. His wings melted and he realized he could no longer fly. Without wings he would just be a broken thing, a damaged kid. When would it be his turn to fall apart? When would it be his turn to crash back down to earth? It was as inevitable as gravity. 

Then, there was no flying. There was only falling. Maybe he never once flew. Maybe he was just falling slowly. Dabi’s skin is torn up and sewn together from pieces,  and he smiles even though it rips his lip. Hawks wonders if it’s painful for that man to smile too, his eyes linger on the lips as he tihnks of his own. His every smile was a lie. To live here, he needed to breathe lies. “I’m curious why this guy? You could have picked someone lower on the list.” 

Hawks just needs to tell another lie. The Hawks in front of Dabi right now, is someone who sympathizes with the cause of the villains, an unwitting pawn, but also too valuable a piece to throw away. 

He smiles and realizes nothing. He knows nothing. He does not know who his real enemies are. 

“Because he was useless.” 

That was his own voice. “Useless heroes get thrown out.” He heard the sound of his own voice. Why was he... “They’re only worth the results they can produce for the commision.Despite everything he’s done for them, the second he became a burden they would have let him take the fall anyway.” 

Why was he telling the truth? Lie to the villains, deceive the villains, report back to the heroes. The mission was so simple, except for this one complicating factor. A knot in the rope he tied around his neck. Dabi will laugh at him. Just like in front of Endeavor, just like with the hero he killed, he will play it all like one big joke. Dabi is just a murderer. To kill people he must have felt nothing at all.

Just like me.

Hawks feels himself grinding his own teeth when he did not mean to. His mask is cracked, and Dabi was going to see him for what he really was. He was going to die now, burned up in Dabi’s sun. He saw Dabi reach his hand forward and closed his eyes in anticipation. A hand. On his shoulder. Someone holding him, touching him. He was touched and he did not break, even though he was fragile. Heavy, far too heavy. “We don’t do that here.” Dabi said, his fingers clasping, tightening around him. His hands are, so unbelievably warm and birds are cold blooded animals. “Don’t worry so much, you look like the kind of useless guy that’s always worrying.” “No way, you’ve got to have brains to have the headspace to be worrying. I’mlike a chicken with his head cutoff.” “Yeah, whatever.” Dabi said, not believing him. “You’re such a shitty liar.”

♘

He was a bad liar. Those words remained in his head, even after he left Deika city. Back on his home turf, he took up roost in a high place. Whenever Dabi asked him to meet he always picked somewhere up high if he got the choice. So idiots prefer high places, huh? Dabi would mock him. His head was empty now. He wanted to cut his head off and throw it into the sky. Maybe then he would finally become a bird. He was thinking of that, and he was thinking that they sky in front of his eyes seemed endless. But there was nothing to see. He jumped down and wondered what would happen if he did not spread his wings. He would fall, obviously. And then he would splat. But after that he would be free. He just needed to let go and fall. He had been waiting his whole life for the rope to snap.

He was born with wings. He had no idea why. There was nothing in the sky. 

He spread his wings out to catch himself at the last minute, and the people around him clapped and cheered. As he landed on a stop sign, a child asked him. “Hawks-san, what’s it like to be a hero?” “You save other people.” “I bet you can save anyone! I’ve always wanted to be a hero, is it fun? Are you happy?”  His hands. Bright red. Jeanist’s blood. He shoved them in his pockets. “Mm, being a hero is all I ever really wanted -” His mouth moved. He was the one talking. And somebody else’s voice came out. He could not hear his own voice anymore. A lie.  “I’m really happy like this.” You’re such a shitty liar. 

[zodiyack]

Billy Hargrove VS The World

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU (See note!)

Warnings: 7 exes that would love to kill Billy, violence, swearing, soft!Billy, I guess two sexual references since it’s Billy we’re talking about, smut mention but no smut, making out, SPOLIERS!, and cheesy pirate Patel

Words: 4947

Note: This is a Scott Pilgrim Vs The World AU because I love that movie and it would be interesting to write an AU involving that. Also this is a multiple part story due to all 7 exes and the battles. One ex per post! (maybe) I’m sorry for the unoriginal title lmao

By the way, yes. There is dialogue from the movie. That is in and going to be in this miniseries. As I said, I love this movie and I think most of the dialogue was funny, plus it is semi important to the story. And the exes are the same people from the movie. Sorry if you don’t like that.

o/o/y/f/c = One of Your Favorite Color(s)

Bold = Words From The Movie (that appear on the screen, if you’ve watched it, then you know what I’m talking about)

Italics with apostrophes = Billy’s thoughts (and Matthew’s thoughts but only once)

Italic = Used for a few different things, mainly enthusiasm/emphasis on words

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

link to the soundtrack on youtube ‘cause why not (a few will be in here I guess)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 and 6. Part 7.

“Look.”

Tommy pointed to the new girl. Finally, some fresh meat for Billy. Or Tommy, whichever one thought of her first. Billy finally grew bored of the girls at school, he waited for one that was newer. Fresher. Cuter.

There she was. Her unnatural o/o/y/f/c hair sat on her shoulders. Roller-blades on her feet, her torso clothed in a shirt covered with a hoodie and another jacket. Her bag hung by her side, headphone strings leaving it and connecting to the headphones on her head. She didn’t look like most girls. Billy had seen most of them, and none had looked as breathtaking nor interesting as her. Before either teens could walk over to her, a boy around their age walked in front of them. She was gone when he moved.

“Weird...”

“I hear she’ll be at Tina’s party tonight.” Carol noticed the boy’s fascination with the new kid, sharing it. “We should go, it’ll give you the chance to learn more about her, Billy.”

“We’ll see.” He brushed off his thoughts about the odd girl, her choice of hair color and clothing, and her headphones that caused her mental absence from the world. Billy turned and walked away, continuing with the rest of his day.

. . .

Billy was stopped by Tina. She asked him how the party was going and if he needed anything.

“Hey Tina, you know everyone, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.” She let out a small laugh. Billy didn’t know whether it was fake or genuine.

“Do you know this one girl with hair...” He grabbed a pen the same color as the new girl’s hair color, quickly drawing a horrible doodle of the girl’s hair. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s Y/n L/n.” Tina took a sip of her drink, “Someone said she was gonna be here tonight actually.”

Billy’s hand that held the drawing went down quickly, his head snapping to the side and his eyes searching for Y/n. “What?”

“Oh Billy, you got the hots for her or something? I’ve gotta tell you though, I hear she’s a little hardcore-” Tina had looked down mid-sentence and when she looked back up Billy was gone. She turned her head with confusion.

Meanwhile, Billy was now walking through the crowd in search of his unique looking crush. His eyes and head shifted when he couldn’t see her, switching from left and right with each step he took. He didn’t blink, afraid that he’d miss her if he did. After many turns of his head and movements of his eyes, he finally spotted her. His hand clenched the red solo cup, squeezing it until it was crumpled and disfigured.

He slid along the wall, stopping when his body was right next to hers. He faced her, his body turned slightly so that she knew she had his full attention.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She turned her head to him for a second, facing forwards again and replying with, “Nothing.” before taking a sip from her cup.

“Hey you know swimming?”

“I know of it.” She took another sip, still not facing him.

He rambled on about the breast stroke and how he could teach her. Billy took notice of her silence, looking up to see that she was facing him with no emotion visible. 

“That’s amazing.” Her reply was just as her face was; emotionless and dull.

“Uhm...” He looked down. No girl could make Billy nervous. By now, he’d have them a blushing mess, begging for him to do whatever he’d like. So now that the new girl, on the first day she’d ever met him, just somehow managed to make him regret every word he said, he thought he’d gone soft. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion and another emotion Billy couldn’t quite think of. However, it was enough to make him regret speaking once more. “I’ll leave you alone forever now...”

“Thanks.”

And Then

He Stalked Her

Until She

Left

The Party

“Dude!”

He grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around.

“What?”

“She’s totally real!”

“Who?”

“Y/n L/n.” His gaze went elsewhere. Billy then speeded off to find Tina. “Dude!” She made a face at Billy’s sudden approach, but let him speak. “What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

“All I know is that she’s (ethnicity).”

His sudden dramatic and demanding of knowledge persona swapped to dreamy, just as it had when he said her name to Tommy. “(ethnicity)...”

“Why don’t you go talk to Sandra and Monique, they know more about her.” Tina’s head nodded to two blond women laughing in a doorway. Billy rushed to them.

“Lady-dudes. What do you know about Y/n L/n?”

Sandra spoke up first, “I heard she has a boyfriend.” Monique confirmed her knowledge, “Mhm, yes. Left him back in New York.”

Billy felt a bit annoyed, but still wanted to know more. “Yeah yeah yeah...What else?”

He asked other people, earning all kinds of different responses.

“I heard she kicks all kinds of ass.”

“She’s on...another level!”

“She has men dying at her feet!”

“She’s got some battle scars dude.”

“What about Y/n L/n?!” Robin asked, semi full of annoyance for her old friend.

“You know her? Tell me now.”

“She just moved here, got a job at the mall, comes into my work.”

“Does she really?” His tone was dreamy again.

A girl put her arm around Robin, “didn’t you say she just broke up with someone?”

“Did she really?”

“They had uh...huge fight or whatever?”

“Did they really?”

Robin slapped the other girl’s arm off of her. “Yes! But I didn’t want Billy to know that, Kate!”

“Yeah...I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“Billy, I forbid you from hitting on Y/n! Even if you haven’t had a real girlfriend in over a year or whatever.”

Billy’s daydreaming halted to a stop. He let out a scoff and turned away.

“Hey, woah woah woah, my man Billy’s got all kinds of girls...he’s totally getting with an older girl sometime, right?” Tommy couldn’t keep his big mouth shut, as usual.

“Getting with an older girl or multiple girls is not having a real girlfriend.”

“She’s got a point.” Kate wrapped her arm around Robin again.

“I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?”

Robin slapped away Kate again. “I don’t want you scaring off one of my old friends now that she’s in town, Billy. We all know you’re a lady-killer-wannabe-jerky-jerk.”

“That’s completely untrue.”

“That time with Lisa?”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“That time with Holly?”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“That time you dumped Faith for-”

“Okay me and Faith are all good now, right?” He turned to where the girl Robin had mentioned stood. Her cup was in her hands and her face was blank with wide eyes. She looked traumatized. Billy turned back to Robin.

“Whatever! Y/n’s just out of your league, let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m not even sure she had a big break up. She keeps mentioning some guy named Gideon.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is about that girl-”

“FORGET IT BILLY!”

. . .

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know, it’s a letter for you dumbass. Read it.”

Billy grunted and took the letter from his father, tearing it open and allowing his eyes to scan the page slowly. He mumbled the words as he read them. It was only Max and him in the room, so it couldn’t do much harm. “Dear Mr. Hargrove, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Matthew Patel and blah blah blah blah...fair warning, mono e mono, 7 evil blah blah... This is... This is... This is-”

Max grew annoyed with her older brother. “What?!?”

“This is borrrinnnggg. Get rid of thisss.” He threw the letter into the recycling and walked up the stairs to his room. “Hey Max?” For once, he didn’t care about being an ass to the redheaded girl. He had a plan, and he needed her as an excuse to leave the house.

“What is it?”

“Wanna go to the mall?”

“For real?” Of course, he couldn’t tell her. “Let me get my wallet and I’ll meet you in the car!”

. . .

“Hello. Robin tells me you ordered this ice cream but left before she could give it to you, so here.” The ice cream that she handed him was indeed abandoned when he heard Steve say that Y/n was in the mall and would be hanging around Scoops soon. “You gonna take it? Ooor-”

“Hi, I was thinking about asking you out but then I realized how stupid that would be...so do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Um no, that’s okay. You can just pay for this, alright?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? We met at the party the other day.”

“Were you the swim guy?”

“Nooooooooo, not even. That was some total ass...I was the...other guy.”

“You know you need to take this and pay for it?”

“But if I do, you’ll leave.”

“Yeah. It’s how it works.”

“Okay well maybe, do you wanna hang out sometime? Get to know each other? You’re the new kid on the block...right, I’ve lived here...for a while so there are reasons...for you to hang out with me.”

A short pause was shared between the two. Y/n’s eyes glanced up to Billy’s with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t know why he felt desperate, but this girl was making him feel different.

“You want me to hang out with you?”

“Um...” He looked down shyly, but quickly looked back up to her face. “Yeah, if that’s cool...” His tough demeanor seemed to flee whenever she was present.

“If I say yes, will you take and pay for your damn ice cream?”

He snatched the ice cream from her and tossed it over his shoulder and into the garbage can behind him effortlessly, taking out the money needed and handing it to her. “So yeah, eight o’clock?”

So Yeah ( . . . )

“Why’re you just standing there?”

“Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” Y/n turned to Billy, her hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie. Billy didn’t know whether she looked offended or confused.

“Oh...I’m sorry, I just assumed you were too cool to be here on time...” In other words, he assumed she was like him. If you were at Tina’s party, then you were bound to be somewhat of a “cool kid” or a rebel or anything remotely relating to popularity. Then again, Tina loved handing out invites.

“Well. You assumed wrong.”

They walked in the chilly weather. Small talk slowly formed and they tried their best to get to know each other just as Billy had suggested. His nervousness didn’t leave him around her, and he was glad that no one else from school was there to see him make a fool of himself. ‘You’re just gonna get lucky and then leave her like the rest of them.’ No matter how many times he told himself that, he was too interested in Y/n. His felt something he wasn’t sure he had ever actually felt.

“So, how’d you end up in Hawkins?” Crap. He wasn’t even sure he could get to like him. Let alone be his snack of the week.

“Just needed to escape I guess...”

“Oh yeah.” He knew exactly how she felt. Or at least what he thought she meant by it.

“I got this job here and Gideon always said Hawkins was one of the cool places, so.”

Now Billy felt the need to ask the question that had been bugging him since Robin brought it up. “Is Gideon...your boyfriend?” It had been bothering him and filling him with a small amount of disappointment and worry.

“He’s...a friend.” Her gaze strayed away.

“Was he your boyfriend?”

She looked hurt. Hurt and uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I don’t get into that right now?” Y/n turned and walked to the swing set in front of them.

“Uh- it’s so not interesting to me...” 

Y/n kept walking, Billy joining her and attempting to not bother her any more than he had already done. She took notice and initiated conversation so that he wouldn’t feel as awkward and guilty, “What about you, what do you do?”

“Oh, I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

“Between what and what?” She moved in front of the swing and sat down as Billy started talking. He did the same but his movements were still shy and cautious.

“Well my last job was...a long story, filled with sighs.”

“I know plenty of those.” Billy took the opportunity to check on Y/n. His face slowly looked over to hers, which was looking up and admiring the sky.

“Is that why you left New York?” 

She looked in front of her, furrowing her eyebrows and nodding, “Pretty much. Just time to head somewhere a little more chilled.”

A cold breeze swept past the two. It was incredible timing.

“Well it’s certainly chilled here!” The wind gave Billy the perfect opportunity to try and lift the mood. A smile rested on his face, his joke seemed like one of the funniest things in the world seeing as Y/n had that same smile.

“Yeah...”

“It’s chilled as in cold...” Oh no. ‘Why the fuck am I so awkward?”

“Yeah.” ‘Oh dear god she noticed.’

The two decided to swing a bit more. With the conversation at a pause, that was honestly probably needed, Y/n and Billy swung their legs back and forth. competition started. They both tried to see who could go higher, Y/n won and smiled slightly while Billy smiled and chuckled with accepting defeat.

After they finished their fun, Billy and Y/n hopped off the swings for a finale. They continued their conversation afterwards, light droplets of rain mixed with small snowflakes falling over their heads.

“It’s ridiculous. Isn’t it like September?”

“No...but it doesn’t snow much in Indiana...ya know, I can barely see you?” His leather jacket was suddenly not projecting as much warmth as he normally would have anticipated. “This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.”

“I think ‘Act Of God’ is a pretty decent excuse for a lousy date.”

Billy stopped in his tracks. A sneaky signature smirk crept onto his face and his usual attitude made an appearance. “So this a date, eh?”

She stopped as well and turned. “Did I say date?” He nodded. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue.”

“Anyway, nights not over yet...” She turned back to where they were originally facing, “and there’s a thingy over here somewhere.”

“Thingy?”

Once again, she turned her head towards him. “A door.” She turned it back, yet again, but this time there was a door in front of them. Odd. She nodded her head over to it in a beckoning way. “Come on.”

Billy took her hand and was dragged by her over to the mysterious door.

Y/n Come Closer ( . . . )

Y/n took off her shoes and looked up at Billy. He sat at her dining room table, staring at her with awe and adoration. Y/n broke the silence and walked over to her cupboard. “What kind of tea do you want?”

He didn’t know why he took his jacket off. His arms were cradling themselves as one would when they were cold. And he was cold. “There’s more than one kind?”

She opened the cupboard. “We have,” she inhaled. “Blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry caramel, vanilla walnut, constant comment annnnnd...earl gray.”

When her sentence was finished, Y/n turned to face a wide eyed Billy. “Did you make some of those up?”

She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a box, “I think I’ll have sleepytime.”

“That sounds good to me...”

She made the tea and set it on the table. Billy’s position didn’t go unnoticed by her, “Want me to get you a blanket?” Her eyebrows were raised with amusement.

“That would actually be...awesome.”

Y/n walked away into her room. A few minutes passed. More minutes. Billy was almost done with his tea. He wondered where she went. He wondered why she was taking so long. Billy decided to go into her room and check on her, making a grunt-like wheeze.

Facing her closet, she was taking off her shirt. Upon hearing him, she turned and raised her arms. “Dude I’m changing.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he just walked in on her while he bra was the only thing covering her chest. 

Billy let out a small, “Ah, sorry!” and covered his eyes. “I’m just cold...”

“Here. That help?”

“Yeah...that’s very warm...What is that?” His hands slowly left his face. “Oh- kaaay...” Y/n was standing right in front of him with a cheeky grin on her lips. He leaned in and kissed her. It was finally happening. Their lips danced together, it felt like they had rehearsed the dance for so long yet in reality they were very new to each other.

The make out session with Y/n was all it took to break Billy. He was in love and he couldn’t deny it. As their passion turned rough and intense, he thought of how happy he felt and how he wouldn’t normally feel that with a girl.

They finally pulled away. Billy’s arms were around Y/n and one of her hands was on his shoulder, her arms laying loosely, and her other was clutching his side under his arm.

“Were you just gonna...bring the blanket from your bed?”

“I guess...” Her voice was soft, unlike her previous dead tone. Billy managed to shatter her “hardcore” exterior with a simple make out session. Or so he thought, if you asked anyone what they thought, they’d say Y/n managed to break him within their first conversation and then decided to let him in after touching her lips to his.

“Maybe we should...both get under it...since we’re both so cold...”

“What about our tea?”

Of course. The tea. Billy didn’t give a fuck about the tea. “I can...not have tea.”

The night went on with passion and...lust. They stripped down to their underwear and continued making out on Y/n’s bed. At some point they got under the blankets and Y/n leaned over Billy to continue their rough kissing. When it was “just about to get good”, Y/n pulled away from Billy.

“I changed my mind.”

“...changed it from what?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you Hargrove.” She moved over beside Billy, laying on his arm and snuggling into his side. “Not right now.”

Another, “Oooh- kay?” escaped Billy’s mouth. As usual, he didn’t know if he should feel hurt, angered or just plain okay with it. He longed for Y/n. She was his addiction, better than any drug. In his mind, he made the exception; feel bad about it later, stay with her for now.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in this weather or anything, you can sleep in my bed. And I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.” At least he had a chance.

“This is...nice. Just this...” He was referencing their semi-cuddling forms. “It’s been like, a really long time so I think I needed this...whatever it is so...thank you.”

Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek, “You’re welcome.” He wrapped his arms around her when she wrapped one of her arms around his neck.

. . .

Billy and his basketball team were just having some harmless fun. It was a game, and school was out for the day. No one could do anything bad, right? Wrong.

Read to show off, Billy brought the new girl to the gym. Max was dragged along since Billy was her ride home. He and his team were horribly distracted by the pretty girl now known as Billy’s first official girlfriend. Scowls and mean looks were given to Y/n by the other girls at school, purely out of jealousy. This morning, Y/n was walked down the hall of Hawkins’ high under Billy’s arm, wolf whistles and more sounded around them.

A weird looking guy stormed into the room, “MR. HARGROVE. IT IS I, MATTHEW PATEL. CONSIDER OUR FIGHT,” Y/n looked horrified. She was pale and breathing unsteadily. The guy who had announced himself to be Matthew moved his head slightly, nodding his hair out of his face. “BEGUN!”

He ran at Billy. ‘What is this kid on?’ Time felt like it was moving in slow motion. “What did I do...?” His voice was slow. He really was moving in slow motion. “What do I do...” Matthew launched himself into the air with his fist raised. He aimed himself to punch at Billy.

Tommy gripped the shoulders of the boys next to him, leaning forward and yelling with entertainment. “Fight!”

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched. He threw the basket ball to the side and shifted to a fighting stance. He blocked Matthew’s punch with his arm and reversed their roles. He swung his fist at Matthew’s face, somehow knocking him to the side of the room. Tommy, Max and Y/n’s eyes widened, as well as everyone else’s in the room.

Matthew still refused to give up. He jumped in front of Billy, “Alright! Alright...”

Max yelled from the bleachers. “Watch out!” They all turned to her. “It’s that one guy.”

“Ha!” Matthew smiled mischievously and ran at Billy again. Sadly, some people just don’t learn from their mistakes. Billy threw an uppercut to Matthews chin, sending him flying to the back of the room. Billy got in some extra punches while Matthew was still down. The two landed in front of each other, most of the people in the gym now gathered around them.

Matthew blew dust off his shoulders and turned to Billy before laughing a laugh that could’ve been mistaken for a villain’s. They started to circle each other, Mathew taking a step to the left and Billy taking a step to the right, “Well well well...you’re quite the opponent.” His neck moved left and then moved back to the right after each syllable when he said, “Hargrove.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“My name,” he swung his right arm up into the air, his left clenched in a fist that met his collar bone. “is Matthew Patel! And I’m Y/n’s FIRST,” Matthew lifted his pointer finger on his left hand and moved his arm to the side. He moved his fingers so that his pinky, ring and middle fingers were out, his thumb and pointer finger touching so that the tips were smooshed together. He turned back to Billy, “evil ex boyfriend.” His shoulders moved up and down one at a time when he said boyfriend. When his hand went down, he let out a growl.

“Her what?” Everyone’s heads turned to Y/n.

She turned to Max and the other people on the right of her. Y/n nervously smiled, “Anyone need a drink?”

A fight initiated between the two boys, fists and feet being used. The grunts coming from both males were loud. Surely, at least one of them would have bruises after this.

Max made a face of massive confusion, looking around for any clues of the situation. Her older brother kept fighting the abnormal kid. After a few more swings, Billy, again, realized how confusing this really was. He wanted to ask beforehand, but this Matthew guy was really determined to teach Billy a lesson.

“Wait!” He held out his hand in a stopping motion. “We’re fighting over Y/n?” He personally had no problem with it, but the “Evil Ex” thing was getting to his head.

Matthew lowered his fist slightly, “didn’t you get my letter explaining the situation?”

“I skimmed it...”

Max squeezed her eyes shut and clicked her tongue. “Mm mm.” She shook her head with her disconfirming noise.

Matthew only seemed to grow madder. “You will pay for your INSOLENCE!” He threw kick after kick after kick, all of which were blocked by Billy. The anger fueled him to the point where Billy could only do few attacks with little time. Just as Billy was gaining the upper hand, Matthew socked him square in the face with both fists, then his right foot with a jump spinning kick.

The people in the crowd behind Billy caught him when he fell backwards from the attack, pushing him forwards and urging him to continue with the fight. Matthew backed up one foot at a time and did weird dance, finishing it off with pulling his coat forward a bit so the dust came off of it and tilting his left foot upwards.

“Hey.” Max leaned forward, gaining the attention of two boys as well as everyone else in the gym. “What’s up with his outfit?”

“Yeah. Is he a pirate?” Laughter flooded the room at Tommy’s observation.

Billy was also curious. “Are you a pirate?” He asked Matthew in a simple and genuinely asking way. Unfortunately, Matthew looked caught off guard and offended.

“Pirates are in this year!” He wasn’t shouting, but he said it with a sassy and upset tone. “Gah!” This time he did shout. His fist was aimed at Billy, and his feet were already moving forward.

More attacks were made. Billy finally did have the upper hand. After Matthew tried to hit Billy’s face again, Billy caught his arms and held them to his chest. His eyes and head turned to Y/n. He was pissed off now. “You really went out with this guy?”

Everyone faced Y/n now. “Yeah.” She stood up and leaned forward, “In the 5th grade.”

Silence. Billy looked around, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he spoke up again, “And?”

She sighed. “It was football season and for some reason, all the little jocks wanted me. Matthew was the only nonwhite nonjock boy in town, so the two of us joined forces and we took 'em all down. We brawled and scrapped, fought for hours. Nothing could beat Matthew’s mystical powers. We only kissed once. After a week and a half, I told him to hit the showers.”

Matthew was full of rage. His furrowed eyebrows and reddened skin could do nothing but confirm that statement.

“Dude wait- mystical powers?” Billy was confused. Unluckily for him, Matthew took advantage of his distracted state and broke free from his grip. Music started playing in the background. Matthew pushed Billy and turned to Y/n, holding out his pointer finger and pointing at her. The veins on his forehead were bulging.

“You’ll pay for this,” He paused for a second. Y/n was visibly afraid. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was was ajar. Matthew finished his sentence with a slight raspy sound to his voice, “L/n.” He swiftly turned to Billy and started dancing and singing. It’s a cringey dance and song to say the least.

“If you want to fight me,”

Max made the same confused face as she had previously. “What!?” She knew it was dumb to pick a fight with Billy, but to sing and dance while doing so? And to get her exes together so they could fight Billy? Were they that dumb?

“Hah! You’re not the brightest.

You won’t know what hit you,

in the sligh-igh-ightest.”

He made sounds with his mouth, floating into the air. Black and white colored girls, kind of like those old animations on tv, were summoned around him. They looked like someone wanted to make demon girls but was a perverted guy who loves hipsters.

“This guy’s good-” One of the basketball team members spoke. He too was wide eyed and confused as fuck.

“Me and my fireballs,

my demon hipster chicks!”

Looks like he was right about hipsters.

“Tell ‘em Matty.” They had a seductive-like voice. With a closer look, Billy could see that their eyes were like snakes. Their teeth were sharp too.

“I’m talking thee talk,

‘Cause I know I’m slick!” He winked before his weird demons spoke again.

“S-L-ICK.”

“Fireball-balls!” He threw the fireball at Billy, who thankfully dodged it in time. Gasps were heard around the room. At least it wasn’t just Billy seeing this shit. “Take this sucker out!” More flames erupted from his hands, shooting at Billy again.

“We’ll show him

What we’re all about!”

“That doesn’t even rhyme!” Billy finished off his sentence by throwing the now broken ring from the hoop at Matthew like a frizzbe. It hit him in the head and caused him to flip backwards a bit. His demons disappeared and it was his turn for his eyes to widen.

‘This is impossible. How can this be?’

Somehow, Billy heard and responded to Matthew’s thoughts with his own, ‘Open your eyes. Maybe you’ll see.’ He jumped at Matthew and returned the punch that had formerly knocked him back into the crowd.

Though, something strange happened this time. When Billy’s fist made contact with Matthew’s skin, he slowly fell a bit, but when he hit the ground, his body turned into 9 quarters. Everyone except for Tommy, Max, Carol, Billy and Y/n continued acting normal. The difference with them and the 5 others were that they had no memory of this “Matthew Patel” or of any fight. The damage in the gym was restored, but still. The 5 of them knew what happened and didn’t know quite yet that no one else did.

“Sweet! Coins!”

“Coins that’re mine, shortstack.” Billy took the remains of Matthew from the poor kid holding them. He walked outside, following the other 4 to discuss what just happened.

[monochromemedic]

Ok but what if Fallon was a twitch streamer

Fallon tapped away at his computer, adjusting his large expensive camera that was pointed at his face, and checked his soundboard for quick commands. He didn’t have any plans for today. He didn’t usually, unless a game came out.  Sometimes he’d talk, sometimes he’d do something crazy and unusual for the stream but most of the time, it was games. He took a quick look at himself in the camera one last time, slid on his sunglasses and started the stream, sending out notifications and a wait screen for people to gather. Of course it didn’t take long. Some people knew Fallon’s schedule like it was integrated in their soul. Others were just quick on the notifications he supposed. As soon as he saw a few people get in he tapped his pencil and began to view possible things from the list of things he had written down. A few minutes later and the chat was bumping. Inside memes, emotes flying, general talk and talk about Fallon himself was rampant. It only flew by faster as he unmuted his mic. “Hey guys, welcome. How’s it going?” He gave a little laugh when chat blew up, and only made people spam an emote he had that was used when Fallon was usually astonished or flustered by chat. He would always give a laugh when people responded so quick and fast. He was amazed at the following he had. “Good? Have a nice meal? Nice weather? Oh what’s that? That a link to- to my face on a ice cream and chat eating it that’s great, won’t give me nightmares.” He chattered before stretching and switching the camera to his face. “Hey. So I’ll be honest. Haven’t a clue what to do today. BUT. Isn’t that how most of our best streams go?” He raised his hands a little before putting them behind his head, swerving a bit in his gamer chair. “So what do we do. Any suggestions? Maybe we’ll just talk and have a bunch of mini things to do.” He looked a chat, swarming with suggestions, some he remembered that he promised to do, mostly joke ones, and some that alot of people were doing. “No taking shoes off, no... you gotta pay for my premium- not even Onlyfans, it’s Onlystans, Onlysimps. It’s like a cult you gotta make a blood sacrifice to get in. There’s like... only 3 other people on the site but you know what the managers there, real sweet.” He chuckled a bit at the reaction of the chat before sliding back up to the computer and starting up a few things people suggested. “Alright how about some shitty games. We’re doing that today, just the absolute bottom of the barrel. See how long it takes to tear our eyes out. Actually you know what.” He sat back in the chair again, hand on his chin. “I’ve seen... alot of shitty games. That just reuse the same assist. Cause you know their pumping this shit out trying to get a quick buck so how about this. We play a few crappy games, and then we go into a certain subgenre. Some real popular thing right now, like a FNAF. And we get some of those and we see how much is recycled and we get a drinking game out of it. Hell we’re look at a few to look at together make a bingo sheet of drinks!” He proclaimed Chat seemed to like that with the amount of pogchamps in the chat. Other people told him that he’d be dead in 10 minutes. “Hey if I get drunk, I get drunk! I don’t anything to do today, do you? I mean if you do maybe get a orange juice or something don’t get plastered. I get paid to get plastered. I get to be the dancing monkey.”  He went to a site and told chat to begin choosing a few and making stuff to go on the bingo card while he got some beers. And soon they had a list of games and a complete bingo card. Some of the games were pretty good in all honesty. Well considering they were trash. Although there was always something in them that made chat go mad with laughter.  A glitch, a funky texture, and later on the reoccurring assets. Soon he was plastered, his face red and sweaty, hair a mess as he tried not to lose his mind over the shitty model of a monster that slid across the ground. People were clipping it, making fun of him for laughing and saying how he was gonna piss his pants with how much he was laughing. It was only when someone in chat called him cute did he  pull his hoodie over a part of his face and paused the game. “No don’t call me cute, I got like... snot runnin down my face and like... i’m on the edge of just barfing.” A few people in the chat agreed, sending him hearts while others teasingly insulted him with jokes like how big of a chin and nose he had, and how ratty his hair was. He was in the middle of laughing and blushing as he waved  at the camera, people calling him handsome and cute. “Nah we gotta... we gotta look at this bear man this ain’t about me i mean look at the funny bear! I mean look at the funny fucking bear.” He sat back up and turned switched the camera to another wait screen, one with a little pair of sunglasses being wiped down that he used when he needed to take his glasses off, and began to wipe his eyes from the tears.  As he wiped down his glasses that were covered in sweat and tears he saw something out of the corner of his eyes in chat. ‘i’m new here, what’s with this guy and the sunglasses?’ A mod sent a command to a bot that spewed out a message, and he realized he hadn’t talked about it in a while. Well uh, as far as he could remember in his little haze. “I saw... someone in chat ask about the glasses.” He began, forgetting to turn his camera on before quickly changing it back, glasses back on his face. “I mean it’s in the description but... I haven’t said it in a while and like maybe I should just for... people who don’t read.” He said with a little snort. A few people in chat started to explain while others just gave a ‘they don’t know’ and a custom emote of Fallon with his glasses down and question marks for eyes. “Um... so. God I shouldn’t explain things while drunk. Uh. I know I put in the description don’t ask, and if you keep bugging me about it I ban or silence you for a while, and i know that’s a bitch move on my part. But i’ll give you some... Fallon lore. I know I might have said this a looong time ago but i’ll just say it again. Realsies, no jokes. Um...” He checked chat again, who were now slowing down, a bit quiet waiting for him to talk. “I uh... I got some problem with eye contact? Like I mention that too in the descripty... but like it’s real... real bad. It’s not like uncomfortable I know that’s what you all think I just get uncomfortable but it’s nooott.... that. I... freak the fuck out. Don’t know why. Just feel like shit when I do, hate being stared at without my glasses, hate looking at people back without em. So I wear sunglasses, the really dark ones, so I can see you, and you can see me, but we don’t like... see each other ya... know? Uh it feels like, the world is looking down at me, and I feel like shit and garbage, and just like... the worst disappointment so yeah-” He gave a little laugh and watched the chat who were spamming hearts and understanding messages. He probably would appreciate it more if he wasn’t plastered but he did stare at the chat for a while just watching the messages fly by. He had to take a second before shaking his head and blinking, before looking back at the game. “Won’t lie, I just stared into like the 6th dimension there. Sorry. Uh... thank you for the nice messages this is... stupidly nice. For ... what’s on the screen right now. You’re all super kind. Honestly this is why I do dumb shit like this and I talk to you about this stuff because you guys aren’t... assholes. You under- well... maybe not understand me at times but you at least put up with my bullshit and like me and you know if I can give even a little bit of love and appreciation back in some form. With dumb jokes and playing shit games it’s ... it’s the least I can do.” He slurred, before sliding back into his seat and taking a swig of water. “Alright let’s get back to the game, I bet some of you aren’t as plastered as you could be. If I don’t see one of you message me, and be like ‘Fallon, I just saw god when I went to go take a piss, i’m suing your ass’ I’m... i’ll be disappointed I don’t know about you guys. He continued to play for a some time, switching to water so he didn’t pass out and eventually ending the stream on a rather sweet note, with a few people saying how they couldn’t wait for the next stream. With the stream off he watched the chat die down into nothing, wiping his brow and smiling before shutting it all down.  His family might have given up on him, and seeing how he lived probably would make them upset. But he honestly didn’t care, he knew that at least he was good in a few peoples eyes.  And that’s all that mattered to him.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 2)

Gif by @robwiethoff

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Summary:  Rayne moved to LA a few years ago and has never really fit in.  While most of the Sunset Strip girls were movie star beautiful, with thin builds and blonde, Rayne stood at 5′10 in flats, had curves that no diet would make disappear and had big red curly hair.  The only person that ever made her feel normal was her best friend and room mate Jo.  In this chapter Jo tries to play matchmaker…

Authors Note:  Hey there, thank you all for coming back for chapter 2!  Spread the word tell your friends, as always my asks are open for suggestions, reviews, what you like, what you don’t, etc, etc<3</p>

Word Count: 3,297

Taglist: @triplehaitches  send me an ask if you want to be added!

Chapter 2

It was a hot weekend in Los Angeles, today alone was going to hit 88° according to the local news.  So what were two girls to do?  Of course, lounge by the pool and catch some sun!  The apartment complex that Rayne and Jo lived in had a giant pool that no one ever seemed to take advantage of, it was always a ghost town.

Rayne brought her boom box to the pool with a stack of cassettes.  First she put in On Through The Night by Def Leppard and pressed play.  “I know you’re gonna say I listen to this too much but the guy at the record store knocked it out of the park with this suggestion!  This band is gonna be big.”

“I mean you certainly have had much worse phases.”  Jo giggled from her lounge chair as Rayne took off her baggy t-shirt.  “Oh Rayne if I looked like you I would wear a bikini!”  Jo complained upon seeing Rayne in an emerald green one piece.

“You’re crazy!  I love my curves but no one wants to see me in a bikini.”  Rayne scoffed while laying back in the reclining chair sliding sunglasses over her eyes.

“Oh I can think of one person who wouldn’t mind seeing you in less than that.” Jo teased taking a drink of her iced tea.

“Huh?” Rayne asked propping herself up on her elbow.  "Who?“

“Well I saw Vince the other night and he told me that his drummer has been talking non stop about some bombshell red head he met the other night at the apartment.  He described you to Vince and then said you left with some blonde who was there for Vince.  Vinny later put two and two together that you must be my friend.

"Oh God!” Rayne put a hand on her forehead in exasperation.  “Of course he’s your fuck buddies friend.”

“You know Tommy is pretty sexy.”  Jo pushed the issue.

“Jo he ate a girl out in the middle of a room full of people.  I’m pretty sure her cum is on the walls.” Rayne slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

“Well at least you know he’s good at it!” Jo laughed before shoving Rayne’s shoulder.  "Oh come on, you deserve to have a little bit of fun!“

Rayne thought about it, maybe she did deserve to have some fun.  But was someone like Tommy worth the trouble he would undoubtedly bring with him?  "I don’t know Jo, I don’t think dating a musician is worth it. They tend to be like leeches.  Remember when Danielle dated that dude from Ratt and found out he was just using her for groceries?”

“I think this band is a little bit different Ray, they sell out every show they play on the Strip.  They’re making money. Vince says he thinks they’ll get signed soon, they have a label executive trying to convince the label to sign them.  And besides, who says you have to date, just fuck him and leave him.”

“If they’re making money why does their apartment look like a bomb went off in it?  God I can’t believe you fucked Vince in there!” Rayne laughed, not even wanting to justify the second part of her friends statement.

“Oh my god it’s awful in there isn’t it?” Jo agreed clenching her hands into fists in front of her.  "I think I saw a cockroach crawling on the floor when Vince had me bent over the bed.  But at that point I didn’t care.“

Rayne gave a loud sound of disgust and threw the sunscreen at her friend.  “Ew!  That’s so fucked.”

Rayne adored moments like this with Jo, where they could just get down to straight up girl talk.  Back home she never had friends that she could talk honestly with, most of her girl friends said that she had no tact and was more like a guy in that way.  Rayne would never forget the first time she ever met Jo after answering a want ad in Recycler magazine for a room mate.  When Rayne entered her hopeful future apartment she was greeted by a disheveled looking Jo, her blonde hair a mess, partially up in a pony tail and an off the shoulder loose fitting top.  Within two minutes of them talking Rayne watched as a guy walked out stark naked, her jaw dropped when he asked if Jo had a pair of pants he could borrow.  The blond smiled at Rayne with a megawatt smile, “I thought he was going to be gone by the time you got here, but I think I wore him out.”  As strange as it sounds Rayne knew in that moment she had met a kindred spirit, even if Jo made Rayne look like a prude most of the time.

The two girls sat by the pool for a few hours gossiping about new bands on the strip, new girls on the strip and every now and then going into the water to cool off.  That night they were going to the Roxy. No bands were playing that they were particularly interested in but the Roxy played the best music when no bands were on and the girls were friends with the DJ who would be spinning there.  Little did Rayne know that Jo had told Vince they were planning on going. If Vince was going that undoubtedly meant that the rest of the band would be there. Jo joked with Rayne that she needed to get laid, and it was all in good fun, but she truly didn’t want the white collar world to suck the fun out of her best friend.  Maybe a bad boy would be just what the doctor ordered.

Later that night the girls entered the Roxy and music already blasted out of the speakers, specifically "Fashion” by David Bowie.  Jo shouted in Rayne’s ear, “I’m gonna go find Robbie.”

Rayne nodded her head making her way over to the bar to grab drinks.  She smiled when she saw that her favorite bartender David was behind the bar. “My love!”

“Hi David.” Rayne smiled hopping onto the bar giving her friend a big hug.  "I keep missing you! We don’t come to the Roxy as much because you guys haven’t been doing live music as much.“

"That’s all going to change soon babe.” David said happily.  David had been working at the Roxy since Rayne moved to LA he was a typical bartender in that he was charming and worked for his tips, he also made a damn good drink.  "What can I get you?“

"I’ll just have a Cardu neat.  Jo is saying hi to Robbie, but let’s get her a vodka cranberry.”

“You got it sweets.” David winked.  After a few short moments he pushed two glasses across the bar.  

Rayne slid a twenty dollar bill back at him telling him to keep it.  "David, would you mind keeping an eye on our bags behind the bar tonight?“

"Always.” David reached his hand out to grab onto Rayne’s leather purse.  "Save me a dance tonight.“

"Oh I don’t know about that.” Rayne smiled and winked.  Rayne crossed the club floor weaving in and out of people to find a decent spot.  She and Jo had become strip rats so to speak, they went out basically every single night, mostly for live music but in that time they had made a little family of friends.  You go out to the same places enough you start to see familiar faces, and you either get along or start to mark your territory against those you didn’t like.  Working her way through the mass of people she spotted Jo coming down from the DJ booth through the crowd of people towards her as Metal Guru by T. Rex started to play.  "David will take your bag for the night, and here’s your drink. Drop your purse and come out and dance with me!“

Metal Guru could it be you’re gonna bring my baby to me She’ll be wild you know a rock and roll child, oh yeah Metal Guru has it been, just like a silver-studded sabre-tooth dream I'II be clean you know pollution machine, oh yeah

The two friends danced to the music singing with each other as they danced.  Swaying her hips to the music, Rayne lost herself in the music she absolutely loved.  T. Rex and Marc Bolan, even if in real life she would have towered over him, were huge influences on her music taste.  T. Rex wasn’t changing the word but they did change hers.  When Marc Bolan died Rayne vowed she would get to the UK one day and pay her respects in some way.

Metal Guru is it you, yeah, yeah, yeah!

The girls sang the lyrics to each other as the song faded into All The World Is A Stage by Slade.

"I thought that was you.” Rayne heard a male voice from behind them.  Spinning on her tiger print heel her stomach flipped when she saw Vince, Tommy and two others with them.  One being the guy who lit himself on fire the other night and the other Rayne hadn’t seen before, he was slightly shorter had long black hair and was wearing aviators, even though we were already in a dark club.  Tommy’s eyes were locked on Rayne causing her stomach to do flips.

“Babe!” Jo shouted jumping onto Vince wrapping her legs around his waist.  The two kissed and Jo mouthed I’ll be right back to Rayne, leaving her alone with the other members of Vince’s band.  Thanks for being my wingman Jo, Rayne thought to herself.

“You like T Rex?” The fire guy asked.

“I love them, they’re one of the greats.  Too bad I never got to see them live.” Rayne smiled genuinely at him.  "What’s your name?“

"I’m Nikki.” He tilted his head upwards in greeting.  Rayne looked down at the shorter man with longer hair.

“And who’s Mr. Way Cool?” Rayne said jokingly to the man wearing aviators.

“Mick.” He said, short and to the point.  "The sunglasses usually make people fuck off.“

"Have you found that works?” He simply nodded, Rayne smiled approvingly.  "Well if that’s the case I might have to start wearing sunglasses when I go out. Not that many people take notice when I’m out with Jo.“

"They should take notice.” Tommy quickly interjected over the music, his dark eyes hadn’t left Rayne since she had turned around upon hearing Vince’s voice.  She saw Nikki roll his eyes and she was sure Mick did behind his sunglasses.

“I need vodka.” Mick said.

“I need a bump.” Nikki quickly said after.  Both of them heading in opposite directions leaving her alone with Tommy.  Fuck, everyone’s leaving me!

“You have to tell me your name.  It’s driving me crazy.” Tommy spoke his eyes begging like a puppy dog.

“Why should I tell you?”  If she was being honest with herself, Rayne kind of enjoyed this game of cat and mouse the two were playing.  Rayne wasn’t used to being chased, in fact since moving to LA she had gone on three dates, just three!  None of those resulted in anything longer than a few weeks and a few free meals.  For the life of her though she really couldn’t figure out why this good looking drummer was showing any interest in her.

“Because you’re fucking beautiful.  You’re a knockout. A ten!” Tommy said enthusiastically.  He certainly had a magnetic energy about him.  His dark hair was fluffed and teased but still maintained its shine.  He was in his leather pants again but this time wore a top with holes cut all through it.  He looked like he was ready to go on stage in this outfit, the other night he seemed more casual, even with the leather pants.

“Look, I appreciate that I really do.  But I am not the kind of girl you want.” Rayne said politely, pulling out a cigarette, offering one to Tommy which he happily took.

“Why not?” Tommy questioned pulling a lighter out igniting a flame for Rayne to use.  Rayne put the cigarette between her lips and leaned into the flame the end lighting up like a cherry.

“I’m not my best friend Jo.” She exhaled gesturing to the ladies room where her friend had gone off with Vince.  "I’m not going to fuck you in the bathroom of a club.“

Tommy flashed a smile before exhaling a stream of smoke, "Oh just give me some time.” As soon as the words left his mouth he closed his eyes and made a face.  "I can’t fucking believe I just said that.“

Rayne chuckled while reaching up and wrapping both her hands around Tommy’s neck, her fingers lazily playing with his hair.  "Don’t worry about it Tommy boy. I’m sure you and the fire hydrant will be happy.”

Tommy had a confused look on his face before it clicked, she was talking about Bullwinkle.  "No she’s not my…”

Rayne pulled one hand away from his neck taking a deep inhale of nicotine, “Yeah, yeah I know.  She’s not your girlfriend. That’s just the point I’m not that girl.  And you guys in bands enjoy being with those girls.”

“Oh so you think you know what we all want?”  Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve been around enough of you to know it is what you want.  That or I’m a bet between you and your buddies, which has also happened to me before. Good looking guys don’t go after the big girl.  They go after girls like Jo.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up.

“So you think I’m good looking then?” He smiled wide resulting in Rayne playfully shoving his shoulder.  He’s a beautiful idiot, Rayne thought to herself.

“Oh fuck you.” She laughed, pushing his shoulder slightly.  Rayne had to give it to him he was charming.  His eyes were chocolate brown and strangely kind, if she didn’t know better Rayne would have thought he was being genuine with her.

“Come on!  Have a drink with me?” Tommy motioned over to the bar.  Her heart wanted to, badly. Her mind on the other hand…

“You never give up do you?”

Tommy leaned in close, so close that Rayne could feel his hot breath against her ear.  "Not when I see something I want.“ His response was simple and resulted in an electric shiver to coarse down Rayne’s spine.  Tommy reached down to take her hand in his and Rayne thought the two would catch on fire from the sparks she could feel between them.  She’d never experienced anything like this before.

Just when Rayne was about to open her mouth and say something, she was almost tackled to the ground by an excited Jo.  "It’s our song!!!”

Jo’s approach had snapped Rayne out of her Tommy fog and she realized Stay With Me by The Faces was blasting through the speakers of the club.  "Let’s dance!“ Jo led Rayne away from Tommy to a clear spot on the floor.

Red lips hair and fingernails I hear your a mean old Jezebel Let’s go up stairs and read my tarot cards, c'mon

“That’s you girl!” Jo smiled at her best friend pointing to her hair.  "I bet Tommy wouldn’t mind going upstairs and pulling on that hair.“

"Shut it you perv.”  Rayne laughed while continuing to dance.  She occasionally stole a glance over to Tommy and Vince who were watching the two girls intently.  She knew she’d regret it later but she definitely danced a little more seductively knowing Tommy was watching her.

Hours flew by music, smoke, drinks and swirling lights surrounded everyone in the club.  It was so easy to lose yourself along to the music, it was intoxicating.  Surprisingly Tommy left Rayne alone for the rest of the night, in every way at least except his eyes.  He couldn’t take them off of her. The way she moved, her smile, the way she’d get excited when a song she liked came on, and that mass of curly hair swaying back and forth.  Her hair was a shade of red that resembled fire, a mix of copper and wine that Tommy just wanted to run his fingers though and pull on.

“Tommy if you keep staring at her you’re gonna burn a hole in her ass.”  Nikki said sitting down next to Tommy at the bar pouring out a line of coke.

“It’s great to look at though dude.  I’d like to do more than look at it though.” Tommy smiled at his best friend as Nikki dipped his head down snorting up the dust.  "I’m just drawn to her. I don’t know why, I’ve never felt this way before.“

Nikki sat up and rolled his eyes at the statement, "Really Tommy?”

“Dude!  I’m fuckin serious!  I’m getting a fuckin boner just from watching her dance, that hasn’t happened to me since I first started getting boners.”

“She hasn’t given you the time of day, forget about her and take a look at the sweet thing over there who’s practically drooling at the sight of you.  She’ll definitely relieve the blue balls induced by red over there.”  Nikki spoke gesturing toward a blonde girl at the end of the bar. She wore a hot pink string bikini top and pursed her lips when she saw Tommy look at her.  "I think we could have a threesome on our hands man.“

"Or a two-some, just you and her.”  Tommy laughed clapping his hand on Nikki’s shoulder before his eyes went to his beautiful red head on the dance floor.  He turned back to Nikki and simply said,  "She doesn’t even compare.“

"Well, T-Bone turning down pussy.  I think you should see a doctor man.” Nikki smiled before getting up and approaching the blonde.  Tommy stared down at his drink until he heard a voice from heaven next to him.

“Hey David, we’re heading out for the night can you grab our bags?”  Rayne spoke from beside him. The bar was packed so he could feel her pressed against him as she leaned over the bar.

“You’re just cruel you know that?” Tommy said shaking his head in disapproval looking up at her from his seated position.

“Am I?”  Rayne asked flirtatiously leaning into him, he could tell she’d had a few drinks.

Tommy spun on the stool fully facing her, taking a risk and resting his hands on her hips.  "Let me take you on a date. Come on.“

Rayne’s green eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought.  "Tell you what rockstar, if you can find me this week before your next show that I’m sure I’ll be dragged to by my best friend.  I’ll go on a date with you.”

“You promise?” Tommy smiled up at her leaning in to try for a kiss, his hands sliding down to her ass.

“Oh no you don’t.  I’m drunk but I’m not that drunk.” Rayne grinned grabbing Tommy’s hands and putting them in his lap.  He looked like a kid that was just told he couldn’t have cookies before dinner.

“Come and find me.” Rayne huskily said leaning in and kissing Tommy on the cheek, leaving a stain of red lipstick behind.  When she pulled back she broke eye contact. “Thanks David, see you later.”

And with that she was gone in a sea of people.  Tommy turned to the bartender that had handed her bag to his red haired beauty, gesturing for him to come over.  "David,“ he called him by the name she had used, "let’s talk you and I.”

Tommy punctuated his statement by pulling out a $50 slamming it on the bar.

***

Song Inspiration for this chapter: Def Leppard-Rock Brigade T. Rex-Metal Guru Slade-All The World Is A Stage The Faces-Stay With Me

[brazilianism]

Brazilian Elections - Let’s talk about  Fernando Haddad

Alright, so. Elections this year and we’re in a big mess, right? The new plot twist to our ever changing political scenario is Fernando Haddad, who happens to be one of the only politicians I actually like, so i’m gonna use this post to talk about his work so y’all can get to know him better since he’s not that famous outside of São Paulo. First of all, for all of you who have no idea what i’m talking about, let me catch you up: Lula (our ex-president) is still, ya know, in jail. For corruption and stuff. We can debate that more thoroughly in another post. Problem is, he wants to run for president again (he wanted before he was arrested already), and technically by some legal standards he might, cause his sentence hasn’t really been contested in every possible court, which is to say that even though his chances of them being overthrown are VERY small, it could still happen and therefore there’s a legal breach there that could allow him to run for president. And bOY is he popular at it - he was leading all the polls around the country these past few months, he was at the lead with nearly 40% of the votes at the last poll (published on the 21st/august). But there has been a debate for months now on whether he’d appoint someone else as a candidate in his place in case the most likely thing happens and he can’t run... And we kinda got the answer a few weeks ago - he didn’t appoint someone else, but he picked his vice president: Haddad, from his own party. Which is to say, in case he is barred from running, Haddad will likely be taking his place. [in the very surprising scenario where Lula DOES run Haddad would not be vice president anymore cause they have a deal with another party and then Manuela D’avila, another ex-candidate for the presidency gets the job cause she’s now supporting Haddad as kinda vice-vice president but that’s a whole other matter). So let’s talk about Fernando Haddad.

Quick background: Haddad is the son of a Lebanese immigrant and graduated in law school (and is a certified lawyer). He's also got a masters degree in economy and a doctorate in philosophy, all at USP, which is like, one of the best universities in Latin america. He’s also a teacher there in Social Sciences and currently a teacher at another private university. In public office, he has been the Minister for Education for 6 years of Lula’s government and Mayor to Brazil’s biggest city, São Paulo, from 2013 to 2016. I’m not saying you need any of those titles to be any good at the job (I mean, just look at Lula I guess) but we sure have to say Haddad came prepared for the fight talking about ground knowledge. 

As the Minister for Education Haddad invested mostly in making the access to universities broader - it was his government that created ProUni (a program that provides government scholarships to poor students in private universities), and re-designed FIES (the financing and credit system for poor students to pay for universities) making it easier for people to pay (less interest rates, more time). During his time we also got 14 new public (free) universities and other kinds of educational centers making the number of available spots go from about 140K to 218K. He was also responsible for reformulating ENEM so that it could start to become a sort of brazilian SAT, now accepted as an entrance test to several universities that all had different tests (and you had to take all of them and pay for all of them if you wanted to apply to multiple places). When he started, Brazil invested about 3,9% of our GDP in education. At the end of his run, we were investing 5,1%. The PISA results showed Brazil among the 3 countries that had evolved the most in education during those years (yeah, we were still pretty low on the rank, but we can’t say it wasn’t working). So education is quite his thing, but that’s not all. 

As a Mayor, Haddad had a clear vision for the city that involved making it more livable - his slogan said “more human”. The ideia is based on studies that say once the citizens have a sense of personal relationship with the place they inhabit the whole area starts to become safer (and also better taken care of, obviously). And that seems obvious but São Paulo had some MAJOR problems of livability. 

Imma list some of my favorite projects. For starters, Haddad changed the lightning of a big part of the city to LED lamps (they’re way brighter so the sense of safety is enhanced cause no dark alleys and stuff AND they’re more efficient so we also started saving energy) [x]. Then he created bike lanes and more bus corridors to make public transport faster and so that people could actually use BIKES in the damn city without too many risks (the number of people who use bikes here grew over 60% in a couple of years, who could have guessed it [x]). He then reduced the speed limits for several streets and speed lanes. That was MASSIVELY impopular, but he said he didn’t care if people hated him as long as it worked in the long run - and, lol, it did. With all of that he reduced accidents and deaths on traffic in the city by 15% overall and by half in specific areas [x] [x], and most interestingly: São Paulo dropped over fifty fucking places on international traffic ranks (which is over 10 times what ANY other brazilian city varied in the ranks those years so there’s no blaming it on any external factors) [x] . Yeah, Haddad started to solve traffic, which is arguably the thing everyone hates the most in this city. People spending less time in traffic start spending more time at leisure - no matter, he closed important avenues on Sundays so that people could use that space, public space, for fun, and anybody who’s been at Paulista on a Sunday nowadays will have seen how damn awesome that place became. He also regulated and stimulated Carnaval as a street party that is now country-famous (do y’all remember how nearly nobody ever considered spending Carnaval in São Paulo a cool thing before 2012? yeah. and people come to the city now just for that and spend a whole lot of money here cause of it [x]). Then he created our very first fucking city tour program with buses and all (man, biggest city in the country and we didn’t have a city tour bus for tourists, what the fuck). He did the first actual Floods Tackling project that involved actually mapping the floods and acting directly on them with more cleaning of the streets and even smart-monitored sewers and trash cans at some places [x]. He created LGBT support centers and was responsible for putting the São Paulo Pride Parade (one of the biggest in the world) on the official government calendars (and as minister for education he was responsible for trying to implement an anti-homophobia program involving educating and orienting teachers to deal with these situations) [x] . He tackled the drug problem (especially the crack-cocaine problem) downtown by offering support (food, housing, medical and psychological assistance, and actual jobs) to addicts - a lot of people were against “giving money to drug addicts”, but again, it worked, and I have a whole post about this here. He created a program to stimulate recycling food at the big open markets and to ensure that organic food was served in the local schools every week. He helped open several tech centers that allowed for people to take tech and coding courses and use 3D printers and other stuff for free or at low prices [x]. Still want more culture? He created public cinemas at poor areas (that showed all kinds of movies, local ones, international ones, all in theaters as good as the paid kind) and created a whole institution to stimulate film making in São Paulo, SPCINE [x] [x]. Oh, and he started a project to take the names of our previous dictators and torturers off the street names (cause yeah we had that) and replace them with, well, decent people [x]. 

Not enough to have some cool ass projects? K, we can discuss his economy as mayor. Cause not only Haddad was innovative as fuck as said above, he also made the city’s finances as good as ever - and I mean it, cause he renegotiated our historical debts to the federal government and reviewed several contracts to companies AND created an agency to investigate corruption scandals regaining several millions into our vaults [x] [x], in a way that by the end of his government we had over 40 billion less in debt [x], 2-3 billion in store and had our investment rate (you know the thing that Brazil kept being lowered at? by international agencies? those grades and stuff?] raised. Oh yeah, and he got like 95% of what he promised in his campaign done [x]. 

And I said all of this so I can exemplify why I like Haddad - it’s not about one or two individual projects, it’s about the way he thinks as a whole. He thinks ahead and he thinks based on actual science - without forgetting a human side of it all. All of his unpopular and polemic measures had positive results - they went miles away from common sense, but it didn’t matter for him cause scientific studies had showed it would work (and it did! what a fucking surprise!). Of couse, that made him the most hated mayor by some people cause all he does is just so weird, right? and he never cared, multiple times he mentioned he didn’t mind being unpopular if it was the right thing for the city. And he was in fact unpopular cause of that (and cause of his party, obviously). He left office leaving contracts signed for about 7 years ahead. He didn’t even have high hopes of being reelected by then, but he left stuff ready to work for the next government (likely an opposition one) anyway. Cause that’s what you do if you’re a decent politician, but it’s so damn rare to see this kind of attitude here. Haddad looked at cold hard facts, saw a city that could use a lot of change in several areas, made a plan and went ahead with it knowing that a lot of people would hate him for it but that in the end it could actively change how we live - and he was right. By the end of it, people did have a different relationship with the city. 

Haddad showed me in both his public offices that he doesn’t have the small mind of most our politicians that seem to only be able to think about things that can happen every 4 years, nor only about things that will be popular for the sake of being popular without being right. And that’s just what I want from a politician. Seems so simple, and yet it’s nearly impossible to find. So that’s why he’s a politician i’m not afraid to support. 

To close this off i’m gonna leave y’all with links to articles from the Wall Street Journal and The New York Times (portuguese here) and The Wire complimenting his time as mayor too so english readers can get some more opinions AND here an Haddad article (in portuguese) that I like if you want to see more of him (especially his views of Brazilian politics), cause this doesn’t even cover all his interesting projects.  Here’s also an interview with him in english, and here here and here some in portuguese for people who want to get a better sense of him and his government plan. Feel free to ask more questions about his projects, I’ll try to get to them when I have time.

[ayerayerproject]

Picking up the Pieces

by Sarah Ichioka

Sarah Ichioka writes the keynote essay for Plasticity, a photography series by visual artist Ernest Goh on plastic pollution found on Punggol Beach, Singapore. The photography series was made during Exactly Foundation Art Residency programme 2018-19.

Sarah Ichioka writes the keynote essay for Plasticity, a photography series on microplastics and plastic pollution found on Singapore’s Punggol Beach, by visual artist, Ernest Goh for Exactly Foundation Art Residency programme.

On each page, a new object catches my eye; like jewels, like candy. I turn them over in my mind’s hand, admiring their lustrous surfaces, vivid colours.

My consumer-lust is aroused from its never too-deep sleep. That red shaft would make a stunning cocktail ring; that green streak, a tasty topping for a cake.

Mysterious figures appear on the white horizon. Our gazes meet. A wide-eyed soldier hoists his bayonet aloft. A wrinkled beast—a yak?—cocks a smirk in my direction. And wait, is that a… missile?

But then, suddenly, my fantasy falls to the ground. A bent red bottle cap, its curved white logo instantly recognisable. Intrigue flattens to disgust. These aren’t exotic goods whose heft begs handling; they’re nothing but so many tiny bits of trash.

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People who spend their time in or near the water—surfers, divers, sailors—are amongst the most passionate anti-plastic campaigners, because they see and feel the effects of ocean pollution first-hand. Photographer Ernest Goh traces the origin of his personal anti-plastic journey to a wave-borne shopping bag that smothered his face. Other friends—a married couple—have shared with me their experience of snorkeling and watching pieces of discarded plastic float by—including food packaging designed by the husband’s very own company.

Even when mediated through photos or videos, for folks more frequently in shopping malls than in the surf, there is a visual aspect of the plastic pollution crisis that imparts an immediate sense of accountability. That object I see lodged in the sea turtle’s nose is most certainly a plastic straw, just like the one I sucked my kopi peng through this morning; that cigarette lighter inside the ribcage of the albatross chick’s carcass is unmistakably the same item that my husband hides beneath his cufflinks and credit card receipts.

This visually self-evident character differentiates our plastic pollution crisis from some of the concurrent, compound emergencies we humans have created. Take our carbon pollution crisis: I have to believe climate scientists when they tell me that my holiday flights hasten the thawing of the permafrost. Or our nitrogen pollution crisis: I have to trust hydrology experts when they say that runoff from fertiliser used to grow my lunch causes massive downstream dead zones. In such cases, obfuscation and denial are easier to sustain, whether by ourselves, by industry lobbyists or by politicians.

The comparative legibility of our plastic pollution crisis might suggest that it is more politically “solvable” than some of these other potentially existential, yet less easily illustrated crises we face.

Having accepted our culpability, how might we begin to atone for it?

One response offers an appealing narrative of consumer activism: maybe we can (mindfully) shop our way out of this mess, by opting for more durable, reusable items? Certainly making a habit of carrying a water flask, a canvas shopping bag, and a set of bamboo eating utensils is a decent place to start, not least as a conversation starter and signal of one’s concern.

Perhaps the problem can be solved if we try our best to #recyclebetter, as the current Singaporean campaign urges? Or is recycling merely a “fig leaf on consumerism” as Jane Muncke, Director of Zurich's Food Packaging Forum puts it?

Maybe we should just tidy up a bit more? When I was a kid, my father would take me for an annual volunteer clean-up of the coast near our California home. Ending the day with sore muscles and a sack full of bullet casings (from a nearby shooting range), cigarette butts, condoms, deodorant rollers, and crumbling chunks of styrofoam was deeply satisfying to me, as tangible evidence of my personal concern and participation. Last year, I chaperoned my daughter’s preschool class on a similar clean-up outing to Singapore’s East Coast Park. This time, I felt rather less contented, overwhelmed by the seeming futility of our attempts, observing casual littering by park users and the floating trash ready to wash ashore as soon as we’d cleared our patch of beach.

As it happens, in about the same timespan as that between my leaving university and becoming a mother, the global volume of plastic production doubled. The same report that documents this leap estimates that global industries have produced 8,300 million metric tons of plastic since 1950. 6,400 million metric tons of this plastic—that’s roughly 100 times the weight of the concrete used to build the Three Gorges Dam, the world’s largest manmade structure—have become waste, nearly 80% of which sits in landfills or our natural environment. Less than 10% has been recycled, while the remainder has been incinerated (as has until recently been standard practice in Singapore).

In Singapore itself, plastic waste per capita has increased nearly 20 percent over the last 15 years. Looking at this country’s plastic bag usage alone, about 2,640 bags are thrown away every three seconds.

Projecting forward current production and pollution trends, another report predicts by 2050 our oceans could contain more plastics than fish (by weight), while the plastics industry itself could consume 15% of our annual carbon budget, and 20% of global oil production.

While our plastic pollution crisis is so overwhelmingly large, it is also mind-twistingly small. Here I mean small in the sense probed by Goh’s photographs: the scale of the microplastics, and now nano-plastics, whose presence has been documented in nearly every corner of our terrestrial and aquatic habitats, and which are now entering our food chain, with unknown, but potentially toxic effects.

The proximity of Goh’s plastic-strewn Punggol beach to a seafood restaurant seems apt. We study the food chain and hydrological cycles as concepts in school, but when most of us enter the “real” world we conveniently forget the practical implications of our systemic connections with the rest of nature.

Understanding the interconnected nature of plastic pollution’s causes and effects is a kind of reawakening. It destabilises the narrative that sees human culture as separate from the natural environment. That story of separation has been a necessary psychological cover for the exploitation of living systems that underpins nearly every aspect of our current economic and political order. Once we remember that ecocide is suicide, will we continue it?

Have we trashed Earth beyond habitability? No problem, we’ll just migrate to Mars, as deckhands or stowaways on a tech oligarch’s spaceship. But wait, turns out we’ve already trashed outer space too. Parts of broken satellites and rockets currently amount to over 8 million kilos of space waste. Rather like ocean plastics, the larger bits of space waste are fragmenting into smaller and smaller pieces, which interfere with digital communications and might even hinder future spacecraft launches.

So let’s turn our eyes back to our damaged and depleted, yet still living and magnificent planet.

“Reduce, reuse, recycle, refuse”? Yes of course, let’s do that. But politely declining plastic straws and rinsing our Coke bottles is simply not enough. Also—and in my view, more importantly—we must act not just as individual consumers but collectively, as concerned citizens and social beings.

With this in mind, let me leave you with an alternative “4 Rs” to consider:

Rebel: Let us raise our voices together, unashamed to share our grief, rage, and disgust at the devastation that our overconsumption-based society has unleashed all around us, clogging our commons and poisoning our sources of sustenance. Let’s insist on better, for ourselves, and for the complex living systems upon which our survival depends.

Root: Let us ground the solutions to our plastic pollution crisis in the lived history and culture of Singapore and its region*. What local wisdom and practices, from karung guni men, to metal tiffins, to banana leaf wrappers and beyond, might be usefully revisited for contemporary use? How might technological and behavioural innovations ground themselves in Singaporeans’ particular resources and values?

Relate: Let us decipher and then communicate the underlying systems that perpetuate this global crisis. Let’s understand for example, who benefits from the otherwise dangerous proliferation of plastics, and how they exert influence on policies and regulations. Let’s study why some national and local governments have taken action to solve the plastic pollution crisis more swiftly than others, and what successful changes early actors have made. Let’s explore how our plastic pollution crisis intersects with other economic, environmental and social systems.

And finally, Regenerate: Let us draw inspiration from the natural world to craft materials and manufacturing cycles that are truly waste-free. Let’s design, build, and inhabit systems that proactively repair past damage, clean up our rubbish, and co-create the conditions for our living world to flourish. It will be a beautiful sight.

Sarah Mineko Ichioka is a Singapore-based urbanist, curator and writer. She leads Desire Lines, a consultancy for environmental, cultural, and social-impact organisations. www.sarahichioka.com

*Ernest Goh’s MA thesis at Goldsmiths followed a similar vein, looking to historical urban successes to inspire contemporary applications. In Goh’s case, the water fountains of ancient Rome inspired the idea for new public water fountains for Singapore, which will be piloted as a part of this project at ADEX 2019.

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Further reading: https://www.plasticpollutioncoalition.org/

https://polymerdatabase.com/polymer%20classes/Plastics%20Industry%20Facts.html

https://polymerdatabase.com/Polymer%20Brands/Plastic%20Manufacturers.html

https://www.opensecrets.org/lobby/lookup.php (tip: enter “plastic” in the Issue search field)

https://www.edb.gov.sg/en/our-industries/energy-and-chemicals.html

http://singapore-companies-directory.com/categories/singapore_plastics.htm