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princeanxious · 4 years

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Soulmate au fic that I really wanna write where Janus is soulmates with everyone(aka DLAMPR) but soulmates stay the same every lifetime but theres a chance to have multiple soulmates and in rare cases you don’t meet them all in that life before you or your soulmates dies.(especially in janus’s case, for reasons i’ll get into shortly) With each life once you hit a certain age(say somewhere between 19-20) and/or meet your soulmate, you gain the memory of every life you’ve had in the past, specifically the life you lived with your soulmate.(also soulmates arent inherently romantic in this world, and i’ll mention that roman and remus are always inherently platonic soulmates to eachother, and are often born as twins to eachother, and if not, are often always the first meet in their group)

Janus is a very special case, and in their world considered almost an anomaly.

All the information gained in the world is supplied from his soulmates, who at the end of each of their current lives always end up together as a group, though it on average happens pretty early on in their lives, minus janus.

Janus is an anomaly because it seems that he’s dying every lifetime time that he meets one of his soulmates, lost to the world 24 hours after hes come into direct physical contact with the first of his soulmates in that lifetime.

(Check the tags for trigger warnings before reading!)

In the first lifetime, he meets Patton(who, in this life, is not called Patton), a young baker who takes his hand with excitement, the barest brush of skin alone triggering not a memory of a past life, but instead a brilliant feeling of connection, a soul-deep aknowledgement that their souls are brand new, and infact are connected to a whole group of souls. Patton is overtaken by a whole new kind of excitement. Janus matches it, and they plan an outting for the very next morning. Janus does not make it to the outting, succumbing to a stab wound just hours after meeting Patton while on his walk home. Patton meets the rest of their soulmates while waiting for Janus to arrive. They hear about his death a week later.

The in second lifetime, he briefly meets Virgil, theyre 16 and 17 respectively. He doesnt learn much, the brief brush of skin while waiting in a croud for a train, enough to distract him into turning around just enough to meet eyes with Virgil, who had been on a train back to meet the rest of their soulmates, an exclamation of relieved surprise on the tip of Janus’s tongue. And then Jan trips, or someone impatiently shoves at him and he loses his footing, niether of them really know for sure. One moment they feel the euphoria of their souls connecting, the next Virgil feels the bond instantly shatter alongside his heart as he watches Janus disappear under the oncoming train. Virgil spends that lifetime traumatized by his sudden death, guilt ridden in knowing their soulmate’s last lifetime’s death had ended in a similar fashion even in mer secs, and his soul takes on a much more cautious nature from then on.

In the third lifetime, he meets Remus, theyre 18. Remus manages to spend a whole hour with Janus before they touch, and it’s only because Janus talks him out of jumping off a bridge. Remus wasn’t being suicidal, just hyper moridly curious, but Janus didn’t know that. Janus strikes up a conversation with him, its snarky and fun and perfect, and Janus joins him on the railing as they talk. Janus derails Remus from jumping by mentioning that he’s never had sushi, and to Remus this is an afront to living. Remus hops back over to the safe side of the railing, declaring to fix that crisis immediately. Janus laughs and agrees, relaxing visibly. The relaxing is a mistake, as for a single second Janus forgets that hes still in a dangerous position. He slips, his hand missing the railing, Remus only just barely managing to catch his hand in time but he doesnt get a good enough grasp, the spark that triggers their soul connection distracting enough that Janus’s hands slip from Remus’s, and Remus is forced to watch in horror as Janus plummets to his doom. He scrambles to fish Janus out of the river, but they cant revive him, Janus died on impact. Remus doesn’t meet the rest of their soulmates for another three years. He never touches sushi again for the rest of that lifetime

In the forth, Roman is 17, Janus is 18, and Janus actually meets Roman multiple times, knowing full well what his life has in store, neither ever knowing. Roman and Janus are actors for the two main characters for an up and coming movie, and they get along super well. Janus has always worn gloves, scarves, long sleeves and jeans, hoodies, beanies. Its a bit taboo at such a young age, but Janus never seems to mind the controversy and never commets on it, and Roman doesn’t mind either. Janus is infact very withdrawn, and often gives very little input on what his true personality is and so Roman doesn’t push it. Later, he really, really wishes he did. Inevitably, they become closer. But it’s only until after the movie is released that Janus lets his walls down just a little. Somehow, he seems to know that Roman is his soulmate long before theyve actually touched. Somehow, for some reason that they just cant seem to fathom, at the end of a large event for the movie, Janus and Roman are being ushered away from eachother and into seperate cars to avoid an influx of fans for some reason or another, Roman doesn’t remember what. All he remembers is Janus taking a glove off his hand and brushing Roman’s cheek after he wished Roman an odd farewell. Not a see you later, just “Farewell, my Prince.” In perfect sync with a very specific line that Janus’s character had said. Roman is in too much shock by the time he’s in his own car, the past three lifetimes of memory flashing through his head taking just long enough to settle into dread as he realizes. He panics, he tries to get someone to listen, and by god do they try, but no one can get into contact with Janus in time. Janus dies in a freak car crash just minutes after they touched, dead on impact. Roman and his soulmates hold onto this movie for the rest of this lifetime, the last physical record left behind by the soulmate that fate just wont let them meet.

In the fifth, he meets Logan, each at age 21, Logan is a nurse in training, and Janus is a cashier, a college student just starting to work towards getting their law degree. By this point Logan has met all of their soulmates, and they all live in a flat together. Really, these days they all sit in wait, they have a plan amongst themselves, about what to do when they meet Janus, a last resort, a trying attempt to keep him alive just long enough to break that 24 hour threshold, to break the spell, to be able to say they did something to try and save him. So its truely a shame that in this lifetime, Janus is bleeding out from a gunshot wound by the time Logan is able to reach him. Its late at night, the police have been called, but it seems Janus was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and finds himself bleeding out on the tile floor. He doesn’t struggle, he doesn’t panic. When Logan approaches, he instead smiles sadly, and reaches his hand out to Logan. On instinct Logan takes it, just before he processes hearing Janus greet him with “Hello, Soulmate.” In vain, Logan tries to staunch the bleeding, but he’s done all he can do, and they know the real paramedics will be 2 minnutes too late. So they sit there, covered in Janus’s blood at 2 am in the middle of a shoddy convenience store, talking quietly about life and how their soulmates love them. There are tears in Logan’s eyes as Janus smiles sadly, knowingly up at Logan. He reaches his hand up and cradles Logans face, and asks Logan to “never forget to smile, okay?” Logan ends up leaving nursing, his mental health unable to take the soul-deep wound that incapacitates him when surrounded by the call of death.

In their sixth life, his soulmates wait, the group meets at age 23, and feel renewed hope as each month passes that they do not experience another traumatic death in their midst. Around age 30, confusion sets in, the hollow itch of meeting their last soulmate is dulled, almost non existant. They’d believe it gone if they didn’t feel it whisper to them late at night where theyre all gathered together. By the time their 60, the whisper seems to fade, and they slowly mourn the loss of the loved one they never got to have. Janus’s soul infact does not make it to the sixth lifetime, but not for lack of trying. His soulmates don’t want to believe it, waiting for his arrival to the very last of their days in this lifetime and never meeting him, they refuse to voice that they mightve lost Janus for good..

Fate has instead taken hold of his feeble soul, the weakest soul in an already unusually huge soulmate group, his soul only half as strong as it should be to balance fate in each lifetime, and so weak that his soul collapses under the amount of soulpower that reaches out to his own when his soul meets the others, and the fates are agitated by the constant unbalance of what should be their greatest and most intricately created group of soulmates yet. So the fates decided to hold onto his soul for a single lifetime, and spends the years mending and healing and strengthening his soul, practically filling in a full half of his soul, and spending years merging it while still carefully balancing his connection with his soulmates perfectly. The trade off is that the tampering and adjusting of his soul fucks with his soulmate memory trigger. He doesn’t forget, no, but his access to his previous lifetime memories is staggered, and so it takes months before he gets back all of his pevious lifetime memories, leaving the inital soulmate connection actually connecting but not immediately supplying his soul with any information of his own first 5 lives, leaving him blank at the start, though knowing that he and his soulmates soul’s are still older than being a brand new soul without memories, and doesn’t actually have a point in his lifetimes when he his an age and his past lifetime memories come to him, he /has/ to meet his soulmates to trigger those memories. The fates are very particular about him, keen on not providing this group with anymore unnessesary trauma.

So, imagine Janus’s genuine confusion, in his sixth life and his soulmate’s seventh life, at age 23 when he approaches a group at a college party on a whim to chat/flatter/flirt with the infamous Remus Sanders, the local social cryptid who always raises more questions than answers when you talk to him and who, Janus has learned, is a highly entertained arsonist-wannabe, and Janus knows that it’s smart to have contacts, because who knows when he’ll be need of someone who’ll commit arson with him? It just happened to be an hour earlier that Remy had spilled soda on his gloves, so he’s braving this interaction without a safety barrier but he’s heard Remus has all his soulmates already, all four of them to be exact, so he doesnt think he has much of a reason to worry. He manages to slide into the conversation easily, and none of Remus’s soulmates seem bothered by his intrusion, especially when he takes the eccentric way that Remus speaks in stride without even a pause, they just seem exasperated when he sneakily brings up the topic of fire.

Then Remus takes him by the shoulders, grinning at him almost crazily, and states “You. I like you” and, it’s obviously instinctive, the graceful way he laughs and puts a hand on Remus’s to agree, but of course the moment skin touches skin, their souls link and everything sparks. And then Remus shutters, and stares, his jaw going slack but his hands seem to grip Janus tighter. And for a moment, Janus finds it terribly, terribly fitting that he’s soulmates with a filterless pyromaniac, but then he remembers that Remus also has soulmates, and then the panic sets in because, assumably, that makes them his soulmates too.

Imagine Janus’s confusion when instead of being met with joy, he suddenly finds himself tucked carefully yet securely into Remus’s arms, being rocked by a man whose suddenly panicked and almost manically whispering “it’s him, hes here, it’s him.” Any move he makes to pull away even a little is met with a sob, Remus is crying, and Janus is so very confused. He tries to coo and comfort Remus, but each of their other soulmates crowd around them, touching his skin one by one, none of them moving away, his skin is burning from touch starvation, its a lot, its to much, its not enough, it burns.

It takes Janus over an hour, after being shuffled into a corner and placed in another soulmate’s lap, Janus thinks his name is Patton, to come back to himself, and finds his soulmates can’t stop touching him. He, too, feels the zing with each touch, the specific innate and undeniable feeling of ‘soulmate, soulmate, soulmate’ but he feels that hes very specifically out of some kind of loop considering all of his soulmates are crying.

When the fates whisper to them, three hours in, with the words “his soul was weak, we have fixed the issue, he is now yours for life to keep, he will safely continue.”

And while Janus requires quite a bit of catch-up, he feels like nows not the best time to ask. He feels more than sees the collective relief that sweeps through his soulmates, he lets them crowd around him further, touching and holding and assuring themselves and eachother that hes real, hes there, he’s staying alive, hes going to be safe. He tries not to say too much, doesn’t want to step on any sore spots, and finds theres tears in his eyes as well. He just lets himself be passed from lap to lap, and somehow or another they manage to all safely arrive at their joined home, pilling up a pillowfort into the livingroom and putting on a movie. Not once does he leave the hold of at least one soulmate, and finds at least two other hands on his person at a time up until he’s sat in the middle of the pillowfort(after he was allowed to get ready alongside the others for bed. He ends up in an oversized nasa hoodie that belongs to Logan) and the others begin to just, talk about life. Its too early to talk about the extreme protectiveness that theyve all treated him with each second, like hes about to dissapear at any moment. The thought makes him shudder, and he tries not to dwell on it.

Turns out, Virgil has the best idea of the night, suddenly and carefully kissing him, which triggers a bit of a domino effect, where Janus goes gently from soulmate to soulmate and trades kisses and hugs until everyone is breathless and giggling wetly with emotion.

And, when he wakes up the next morning, refusing to leave the warmth that is Roman’s chest and whining when Logan, who’d been acting as his other warm big spoon, start pulling away to start the day. And for the first time in this lifetime, Logan startlingly quickly relents and actually returns to their makeshift bed, pressing closer to Janus in an instant to hear his happy, sleepy hum. None of them get up for hours, and when they finally do, they order takeout, and dont stray far from eachother in the coming days.

Its the start of something new, something beautiful.

Something completely and finally whole.

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fuck-customers · 3 years

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I hate both my manager and assistant manager so much it's ruining my mental health. I switched to this location because the other location I was at before had customers so rude and aggressive it was ruining my mental health but now it's my co-workers especially management ruining my mental health instead at this new location.

First my assistant manager who I work with most of the time is a raging misogynist, racist, homophobe, ableist, ect basically every "ist" or "phobe" you can imagine he's it, even though he claims to be a "really open minded" guy he's super fucking hateful and ignorant and as a bisexual immigrant woman he's so stressful to work with. I always tell him to stop saying all the sexist / homophobic / racist shit around me but that just makes him say some sexist shit about women being so sensitive and how cute it is that women have to be so overly sensitive about everything. He's also always interrupting me, I can never get out more than two words before he cuts me off and I've talked to him about it so many times and he always says he'll stop but he never has. He's also always aggressively invading my personal space by standing uncomfortably close to me and aggressively grabbing things from my hand without asking like I'm some fcking toddler.

Manager is just an arrogant creep. He tells people to do things then later yells at them for doing that. He also only hires young, single, conventionally attractive, short and skinny, 20 year old girls to work the day shift with him (he's 30, same age as me) while men and "older" (aka actually his age) women like me get put on weekends and evenings so he only has to work with the attractive young girls. Then he flirts heavily with them and is always taking them back into the storage area alone. He used to be nicer and more lenient (and more flirty) towards me and gave me more hours until he found out I'm married, then after he found out I'm married he started cutting my hours and was always finding a problem with my work performance and started talking smack about my competence behind my back and saying my job is on thin ice. Never a problem before he found out I'm married though 🤔

#tw #trigger warning #submissions #fuck customers #cashier problems #fuck co-workers #fuck retail #fuck coworkers #fuck managers #retail justice #retail law #tw:#submission

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inskz · 4 years

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lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

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“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse.

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence.

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them).

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you.

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now.

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago.

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh).

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him.

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen.

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff.

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it.

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups.

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything.

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas.

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly.

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil.

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear.

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch.

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little…

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter.

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered.

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask.

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain.

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in.

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt.

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately.

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget).

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground.

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you.

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch.

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy.

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials.

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter.

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview.

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes.

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can.

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today.

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso.

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling.

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue).

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you?

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time.

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall.

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next.

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right?

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should.

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball.

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves.

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious.

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in.

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start.

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours.

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil.

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - -

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him.

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross.

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning.

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes.

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it.

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe.

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars.

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate.

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?

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clownsgobeepbeep · 3 years

Text

Ko-Fi (Please Read)

I’ve never enjoyed doing it and didn’t think I’d ever get to it, but I am beginning to ask for donations. Any kind, any amount.

https://ko-fi.com/d_b_skull

https://paypal.me/dbskull?locale.x=en_US

It’s gotten to the point where I’m more than exhausted with my living conditions. Well, it’s gotten to this point many, many times and it’s taken such a toll on my mental health. In fact, it’s been so bad that at a very early age I wanted to end things. The point is, I’m asking for help; help to finally move out of this home.

I just recently quit my job due to issues involving the management and the sudden decrease in hours; 4.5-9 hours a week just wasn’t going to help me. It’s been a few weeks since my last day and the money in my bank has rapidly been going down; I’ve even had to take money from my savings which were meant for moving out. Not only that, but I have two dental surgeries coming up which are obviously taking a hefty amount of my money away, and that doesn’t even involve the medicine I have to pay for before and after the surgery. This could be considered the “least” of my problems.

If you need any convincing, up ahead is a list of reasons why I desperately want to move out of here,

I’m a young adult in my 20′s who is still living with my parents and other family members; it’s been very difficult for me living with this family when all but one love to manipulate the hell out of me and make me their personal maid. Despite everything, I’m not even treated like an adult around here.

The issue isn’t that I’m made to clean the entire house and act as everybody’s nanny, this is only a part of it. As mentioned previously, this family has affected my mentality to the point of making me want to take my own life when I was just 11. The root of all my problems is my mother.

Since a young age she has made me into the house’s personal nanny, is it obvious that I’m an only daughter? Seriously, I’m expected to take care of the house by myself, have a job, and go to school while paying for it.

I’ve had to care for three brothers, the two eldest being 30 year old men who do nothing around the house and use the excuse “I work”. My younger brother is sometimes an exception to these things but if he insists I not do things for him, it infuriates my mother. Another I must care for and baby is my father who is practically royalty in her eyes.

On top of this, I must take care of 7 cats who were all thrown onto me. Don’t get me wrong, I love this felines with all my heart and will protect them till my last breath, but to be told I’m the one who brought them and wanted them in the first place and to be expected to do everything for these cats is rather unfair. Hell, another thing that completely pisses my other off is if I receive any kind of help.

Speaking of help and brothers once again, the eldest of the bunch is just like her; a mama’s boy who repeats her every word and treats me as horribly as possible,. He’s gone as far as to asking why my parents haven’t kicked me out yet, simply because he dislikes me for no reason. I can describe this man in a single word: a parasite.

Moving on to the next issue: I have no basic rights around this home.

I am not allowed to feel emotions, as hilarious and ridiculous as that sounds. I am not allowed to think for myself. I am not allowed to act for myself.

My mother offers help, but never goes through with it. She has offered to teach me how to drive; yet here I am in my 20′s trying to make an appointment for my written test. She has offered to help me get a credit card, yet another reason I can not afford an apartment/home is because I have no credit let alone the card. She tries to restrict me of adulthood as much as she can so that I may always depend on her. This way, she can always have me living under her roof, always serving her and her parasite of a son. I can’t even go to the doctor’s office, she never believes me every time I say that I’m feeling ill. She never believes me until it’s gotten to bad, and she in the end asks “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have stopped this in the first place”

This woman is very narcissistic, always putting herself above everybody no matter who they are. If it’s not her being held at a high pedestal, it’s my father or that parasite who is praised for washing his dish after eating.

She calls me her best friend yet has the audacity to claim I’m dead to her.

I really don’t know how else to describe that I want to move out of here, there are literally so many other reasons but I think it’s best that I just name these for now. I have attempted to do writing commissions in the past, I try to sell items in different website but I never have any luck with anything I do.

I would never retort to e-begging but like I said...I just can’t take it anymore.

#kofi #donations #please help #suicide tw #mental health #moving out #boost if possible please

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merskrat · 3 years

Text

Y’all need to calm down. I didn’t even start my education until I was 26. I didn’t finish until I was 28. I spent the years of my life that I was in my physical peak (meaning health) having insane adventures with my friends across the country. You think your life is over when you’re 25, when in reality, that’s when your brain is fully developed and is the perfect time to settle down and decide what you want to do. You guys are too scared to live. Take a fucking chance once in a while, but especially when you’re young. I’m almost 30 now and I managed to get by without committing to any particular path at 18 or even 25. And I don’t feel like that time was wasted. I have regrets like everyone else but probably less than someone who got into debt at the age of 18 after feeling forced to choose a life path a year earlier. I understand it’s the dream some of us were sold, but for the next generation—don’t do that. For years the toughest choice I had to make was which states, cities, and towns I should visit/settle for the winter months, or whether to go east or west that day. I can’t promise you’ll be fine just meandering in whatever ways appeal to you for however long, I’m just telling you that I am. If you are still one of those people who believes your life is over at 25, why are you not spending your adult years up to that point having fun, exploring, experiencing new things, and LIVING?

This is a picture of me on a freight train and I think I was about 22 or 23. Super beautiful ride where I passed miles and miles of blossoming fruit trees and beehives. The train sided here and we got off and skipped rocks for a few minutes. I’m not saying that everyone needs to be a straight up vagabond like I was, but you can do anything. Anything you want! Work a seasonal job, save money, go to Thailand! Live cheap and travel! Work part time, live in some shitty apartment and write your novel, or join a band! Go to Europe and stay in hostels! Drive around and visit state and national parks with your dog! You can be a traveler, you can be a starving artist. In fact, that is the best age to do it, both to manage your own time, and because people look at you and see pure potential. No one is gonna be like “when are you gonna get yourself a husband” when you’re twenty. Have fun and stop wasting your time!

I snapped a few pics from my photo album just now to add. I never had a phone so all of my pics were taken on disposable cameras.

The black dog at the top is my dog JJ. I bought him for $20 from some crack heads in Florida when he was 8 weeks and I was 18. He’s turning 11 this year! I think he is happy that we have settled cause he’s a lazy boi. All of these pictures were taken before I turned 20. I was 19 and had already been all over the country, all the way west and all the way down to the keys. That “hobo family photo” drawing with the stick frame? People saw it, my friends saw it, and they knew I had been there. We left our tags, sometimes with the date or direction that we were going, so we could keep track of each other in a way. Sometimes we left cans of food, or a few beers. We had no phones, but we had notebooks, instruments, sometimes a CD player or cheap MP3 player. We carried little hammocks and tiny stoves sometimes. We had our sleeping bags and dog food and each other. I was constantly running into my friends without even planning on it, or making new friends with whatever kids I ran into if I vibed with them. I have known the guys in the Hawaiian shirts literally forever, happened to run into them in key west while they were trying to dress “in disguise” to blend in lol. We camped out on a beach in the middle keys for New Years, drinking and making tacos, swimming, waking up to seeing sharks and dolphins and stingrays swim by us. It was magical. Dude with the tequila bought his own home recently, and him and his gf rebuilt it, did the plumbing and electricity, and painted every single room to their own tastes. We might all look like bums in these pictures, but we are all in our late 20s-early 30s now and are literally fucking fine. I never felt like I was “behind” my friends. Most of them are not even doing as well as I am now, and the amount of life experience and people skills I made in even one year of my life living like this was worth more than five of them working a minimum wage job, or dropping out of college, or whatever. It was certainly hard sometimes, but it gave me confidence in myself and the ability to adapt to any situation.

Now go out and fucking live, kids!

#advice #mental health #mental illness #career #travel #starving artist #starvingartist #oogle #look at this fucking oogle #vagabond #dogs #puppies #hobo life #trains #freight trains #personal

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Springtown

I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a true story. There’s a bit of conjecture here and there to fill in empty spots, but not a lot. It’s a story about my grandmother - my paternal grandmother, not my maternal grandmother - I feel the need to specify who exactly it is because mom’s mom has a bit of a story too, but that’s for later.

This one’s about the one I’m going to call Elizabeth. Elizabeth was her middle name, it was a family name, it belonged to her mother and her grandmother I believe, though I didn’t know any of those people so I couldn’t swear by it. The family records are long gone if they ever existed.

Elizabeth’s last name was one of those romantically ridiculous names that still clung to old families at the turn of the century. It had a lot of extraneous letters at the end, a handful of unnecessary and partially silent sounds that looked beautiful in the flowery handwritten script of the time, a noble sounding -eaoux that did little more than tag a fancy sounding o onto the back end. A lot of fuss for such a little piece of sound. And when Elizabeth’s grandfather moved his family from France to Ireland and signed the manifests upon arrival in the new old land, he dropped the -eaoux and shortened the family’s name to four tiny letters and a single syllable. They were Irish now.

Elizabeth’s father carried the new name and the new heritage, and when he was of age he went and married an Irish beauty named - yep, Elizabeth. They say she was redheaded and blue eyed and fair skinned, though no pictures exist to prove it. All that exists is my grandmother, who supposedly looked just like her mama. She didn’t remember Ireland...she was too young when her daddy moved his family to a new land just like his own daddy had done, and she never really told anyone she was Irish. No one actually knew, once her parents were gone.

But you could tell. She looked it - flame red hair, china blue eyes, fair skin. She had the bones of whatever French nobility had been in her lineage from way back, but her colors were the Emerald Isle all the way. A beauty like you’d see in the movies, petite and ladylike and perfectly put together.

But my god that woman had a wild streak that dated right back to the Celts whose blood made up half of what she was.

(continued under the cut because long story)

So Elizabeth grew up in America, the daughter of an Irish mother and a French father. She had brothers and sisters, quite a few, though I never knew any of them. I believe I met two of them when I was too young to remember much about the encounter, but I’ve always found it hilarious that one of her sisters was named Bill. Bill, like the man’s name. I never found out why and I’m not entirely sure there was ever actually a reason. It was just one of those things.

The newly American family settled in Texas. And when Elizabeth was very young - probably not yet in her 20′s, though nobody knows for sure just how old she actually was because it’s likely she tended to fib a bit about her age to get into places she had no business being - she got herself involved with the Texas mafia.

Now let me tell you a thing or two about the Texas mafia. It wasn’t an official operation - not like the Italian Mafioso or the Eastern Syndicates or whatever the hell was going on between Florida and Cuba at the time. But it was every bit as dangerous and vicious and bloody and corrupt as any of those bigger organizations, and it was led for the most part by a man I’m going to call Big Joe.

This was the early 1940′s or thereabouts. Elizabeth was a party girl - up for anything, always out and about, girl-gang at the swing club, the works. And Big Joe saw her in the club one night, it may very well have been his club she was dancing at, and the proverbial first-sight thing kicked him hard in the gonads. This girl was a looker, and she was dancing with everyone in the place, whooping it up, living life like tomorrow it was all going to take a header into the sea. He had to have her.

And he did.

Big Joe was likely in his late 30′s, maybe early 40′s. There’s not a lot of information on him other than a handful of facts mentioned once and only once by my grandmother to my aunt - that Big Joe was a handsome man, big and tough and a snazzy dresser, and he always had enough money in his pocket to take Elizabeth anywhere she wanted to go and buy her anything she wanted to buy. And Elizabeth, party girl extraordinaire, was all up for that.

So Elizabeth and Big Joe become a thing. Everybody knows she’s his squeeze - and suddenly not a male soul in Dallas or the surrounding metropolitan areas will dare to lay an eye on her, not even a quick glance, because she’s Big Joe’s girl. And that means something. Elizabeth doesn’t know quite what it means because she’s likely not even 20 yet, but Big Joe is fun and romantic and he takes her on trips and buys her nice clothes. He buys her a ring, a blood red garnet, a ring that I inherit many decades later. He’s going to marry her, he says. She doesn’t care much one way or the other, she’s having too much fun dancing every night in his club, traveling with him, going shopping, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous of the Southwest. She’s all but a star, protected and adored. Big Joe’s men follow her everywhere she goes when she’s not with him. And Big Joe starts going out of town without her a lot, taking care of business that he never tells her the details of.

She’s cool with that. He’s a businessman, that’s what he’s always told her. Things to take care of out of town. The Boss. He has a lot of operations to oversee, operations that make all that money he spends on her.

She has no idea what he actually does.

All she knows - or cares to know - is that when he comes back to town he ushers her around town in his big fancy black car, buying her furs and expensive dinners, showing her off to society. When he isn’t slapping her around...but hey, that’s part of the deal isn’t it? It’s the 1940′s, and Big Joe is very much a man of the era. Women grew up knowing they’d have to take the back of a man’s hand from time to time, and Elizabeth knew which side her bread was buttered on. She kept Big Joe happy, put a smile on his face, did the old grin-and-bear-it on the rest of it.

And then one night Big Joe comes banging on her door. He’s frantic. He pushes a set of keys into her hand - keys to the fancy black car that takes her everywhere - and tells her to keep it there, at her house. Don’t drive it anywhere, just keep it there. He’ll contact her soon and tell her what to do.

He leaves in another car with one of his men, and that’s the last time Elizabeth ever sees him.

A few weeks later she gets a letter from Big Joe telling her to drive the car into Grapevine Lake, on the far side by the shoals. Don’t open the trunk, he says. Put a brick on the gas pedal and put it in drive. Do it at night and make sure nobody sees you.

That night Elizabeth picks up her best friend and they drive the car to Grapevine to do as Big Joe said, sinking it in the murky green water on the far side of the lake. The two girls - just girls, barely even women yet - stand on the shore watching it disappear into the deep dark.

A week later Big Joe is shot to death. A deal gone bad maybe, or a competitor moving into the territory. Nobody really knows - grandmother never said. Don’t think I haven’t done my research...I know what I know, and according to a nearly nonexistent little trove of newspaper articles microfiched in a tiny little library in Azle Texas that isn’t even there anymore, odds are very likely that Big Joe went down in a shootout with the Dallas Police Department.

Elizabeth never opened the trunk of that car. At least she said she didn’t...it’s one of the many things that nobody ever knew or will ever know, because once she shut the door on that part of her life and moved on, it might as well have never happened. Getting this much out of her was outrageously difficult. Thanks to my very tenacious and very persevering aunt, what I’ve just told you managed to survive. It’s very likely my aunt was the only person she ever told, and it’s very likely I in turn am the only person my aunt ever told. And now my aunt is in her 70′s and in poor health, and this little unknown family story has started poking around at the back of my skull. I don’t want it to be lost. I don’t like the idea of soon being the only person alive who knows it. It’s not a spectacular story, but it’s testament to the fact that extraordinary things happen to ordinary people, probably more often than you’d think - and that those ordinary people sometimes take it all to the grave with them.

Elizabeth - my dad’s mom, my grandmother, the one I look like and act like and laugh like, the one whose cheekbones and eyes and hair and size I was born with, passed away twenty-something years ago. She lived through some extraordinary things. After the demise of Big Joe she married an oil roughneck, one of the semi-transient oilfield workers that were prevalent in the Texas Panhandle at the time, and had two children with him - one of whom was my father. The roughneck was the epitome of the James Dean romantic brooding bad boy type, handsome and manly, but unfortunately also a scoundrel who had a second family in another city that he went to every other month when he traveled to another rig for work. She left him when she found out. It was almost unheard of at the time, a young mother taking her two little kids and leaving her husband to be on her own, but she did it. And when my father was 12 she met and married a very tall, very handsome, very Cary Grant-esque railroad worker who loved life every bit as much as she did.

They were together for the rest of her life. I’ve never to this day seen two people more in love than Elizabeth and Jesse. I spent many summers in Texas with them and not a night went by that I couldn’t hear them giggling in the next room after lights-out, talking and laughing quietly until granddad’s wallshaking snores echoed through the house. It just about killed him when her heart gave out. But she was old, and she’d lived a life worth living. There was nothing in her face in those final moments that could ever convince anyone she wasn’t ready and willing to go when the time came.

I’d been married for a couple of years when she died, and my husband and I traveled to Texas for the funeral. The first night there, as my aunt brought out grandmother’s jewelry box and told me to take whatever I wanted, the story was passed from her to me. And when it was all told I opened a little drawer in the bottom of the jewelry box and pulled out an old garnet ring that I’d seen before, when I was a small child snooping in grandma’s stuff. I’d always been fascinated with it...it just looked like it had a story to tell. That’s it, my aunt said. That’s the ring he gave her. That’s all she ended up with.

It was the only thing I took.

The church was so full the next morning you’d have thought it was the final sendoff for some local celebrity. Everybody loved my grandmother, everybody, but this was sort of astounding. Some of them I knew from my childhood, from many many summers spent in the Panhandle, but people came from all over to say goodbye and nobody in the family knew who a lot of them were. They just showed up, some of them cried, some just stood in the back of the church all stoic in black suits. Some were very old. And when it was over and I turned around to watch a group of distinctly important-looking old gentlemen quickly and quietly leave the building, I looked over at my aunt and pointed at them. She arched her eyebrows in that way she always did, that way, the way that said What did I tell you?? - and I wondered if maybe all those years ago some of Big Joe’s men hadn’t pulled that car out of Lake Grapevine and found the trunk empty.

I mean...this is Elizabeth we’re talking about.

#true story

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

Photo

Accolades such as “greatest single long-playing achievement since Sgt. Pepper” and “the most important record album ever made” fall over Queen’s latest album as easily as butter melting on a hot potato—but few realize what a hot potato the album actually was in its pre-release days. It took a bevy of high-powered attorneys, some low-life finagling, and more than the usual amount of wheelerdealing just to get the album out without its being hacked to death by defamation-of-character suits.

Guitarist Brian May explains: “I’m in real difficulty here because I’ve been threatened with libel because our old management had a good go at stopping the album coming out. They thought “Death on Two Legs’’ was about them. They wanted us to take the track off and we nearly had to, and in fact they got a load of money out of our publishing company because it supposedly was libelous, but it’s never been proven. It’s all very stupid—they wanted to sue Freddie, the band, the publishing company, and the record company.”

All very dramatic stuff, but a band like Queen survives not on operatic finesse alone, but on gut-level melo- dramatics in the business department as well. When you produce your records, write the songs, play all the instruments, and do everything yourself, chances are you’re going to have to pay some legal dues, too. But ah! the rewards—such as the single, “Bohemian Rhapsody,” hanging into the #1 spot in the British charts for seven weeks in a row!

“We’re a bit more in the public eye now, we’re starting to get recognized a lot more,” says Brian May. “We’re carrying on working just as we did before, but obviously we’re very pleased with how the record’s doing. It’s sold more than a million copies in England— can’t believe it.” But it’s true: Queen’s stature in England has risen from that of The #1 teenage hard rock band to that of the-group- that-made-the-single-that-every-house- wife-knows-by-heart”.

What propelled Queen in that direction is their Night at the Opera album, a slight departure from what Queen fans know to be the Queen sound. The hard rock screams have temporarily subsided, replaced by experimentation with different voicings of instruments and production tricks. Those who found Queen’s approach overdecibelled can relax to the quiet “ ‘39” or “Good Company” and tap their feet to “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon” without fear of being gui- tarred to death. “It’s just what came out,” says Brian. “They’re offshoots of our main direction. There’s plenty of time for the rock.”

“The album wasn’t really supposed to go in the direction that it did, it was just the songs we had. While we were making it we were thinking, ‘Yeah, it is getting a bit light,’ but rather than fight against it we decided to do it properly and then think again afterwards. So instead of trying to heavy up the lighter things, we pressed on. We had a few things we didn’t use, but we’re getting more demanding of ourselves. There are a few heavy things kicking around, but we may use them on the next record.”

The two strongest forces in Queen have always been Brian and Freddie. With A Night at the Opera, where experimentation and branching out in new directions are the most obvious characteristics, the personalities of the band are often obscured by the newly emerging elements. “Sometimes I feel that Freddie and I are going in different directions, but then he’ll come up with something and I’ll think, ‘My God—we do think alike.’ When I’m working on one of his things I can tune in very easily to what guitar part he wants, and vice-versa. In terms of what we’re trying to do in songs, we are moving in different directions, but I think that could be a good thing.”

QUEEN II: Critical response to the band is now almost unanimously favorable in both Great Britain and the United States, which is quite phenomenal when you stop and think of how anxious many critics were to pan them two years ago.“I’m not going to take it too seriously,” Brian says, “because I remember what the critics said about Queen II. It would seem that everybody is beginning to like us. … very much. I can take it at that level, but there’s no doubt in my mind that sometime in the future there’ll come a time when we get slagged for everything. Queen II is still my favorite of the Queen albums, certainly the most daring. Especially for the time. I think we’re still finding our feet now, and the way I feel about the new album is that we’re searching for new directions and most of them are sort of half-formed. We’ve got the Queen II feel in some places, and in others we’ve got the Sheer Heart Attack polish. I don’t think we’re quite sure where we’re going”.

“This album, at the very least, negates all the comparisons to Led Zeppelin that we’ve been living with for the past three years. I think Physical Graffiti is amazing, by the way. I saw Zeppelin at Earls Court, and I met Pagey afterward, for the first time. It was great, he was very nice and gentle. I respect him a tremendous amount for “Kashmir” and “The Light,” for being able to put his brain on record—- it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t play a note.”

Economic criticism has been less favorable, however. A Night at the Opera was widely rumored to be “the most expensive album ever made” when it was released, a point which Queen’s management denies. Nevertheless, Queen has been taken to task by quite a few English journalists for spending so much money estimated at £30-40,000—making one record. Brian has a retort: “We wouldn’t have spent so much money if the studios weren’t so bloody expensive!

The album was recorded in seven of them, sometimes three at once.” We weren’t mucking about for any of it, it was four months of solid work. It came down to having the equipment available for four months, and we didn’t begrudge the amount of time spent in the studios, but it comes to a fair amount of money. There’s a lot of things that seem light, like “Good Company,” which actually took a great deal of time and care. All those trumpets and clarinets being fashioned from guitar sounds—I took it quite seriously because I wanted to do it right, even though it was a lighthearted thing. We worked too hard for our own health, we got a bit down and depressed.”

While Queen was laying about England between record and tour, a few of them got going on some independent projects. Brian and Roger produced an R&B group’s single, but there were some record company hassles and it may be some time before the record gets released. And on the eve of the American tour, Freddie Mercury went into the studios with a singer/songwriter managed by the Rocket Organization (which manages Queen as well) to try his hand at production. “Eddie Howells is the guy’s name, and he’s managed by David Mead, and they’re doing a single for Warners. I’m playing some guitar on it.” Brian restrained himself from going out on any limbs before the American tour in order to get himself physically fit. His health had been a crucial problem on an earlier American tour, and he’s not particularly anxious to spend time in hospitals when he could be onstage instead. “I actually get more tired offtour than ontour,”he admits. But I am in good health.”

HAIRY LEGS: Once the English leg of the tour did get started, word started to flow very quickly back to the States about Queen’s dramatic stage show—a stage show to end all stage shows, with Mercury donning short-shorts to add a bit of the hairy leg to Queen’s otherwise pristeen presentation. “The show is the same, but different,” Brian says confusedly. “We’ve merely developed what we did before with some new material from the new album. It’s a bit of reshuffling. Plus we do “Doing All- right” from the first album, which we’ve never done onstage before. And “Seven Seas of Rhye,” which we’d do in England but never in America before. It’s quite a lot different, actually.”

American audiences got their first chance to sample the new presentation on January 27 in Waterbury, Conn., when the first concert of Queen’s scheduled 32-date, 21-city American tour got underway in the Palace Theatre. After arriving in the States at Kennedy International on January 20 and spending a couple of days in New York for interviews, Queen began five days of rehearsals at the Palace to ready their show for American fans across the country.

After Waterbury they dove headfirst into the intensive six-week tour, which featured extended runs in New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles before its scheduled end March 12 at the San Diego Sports Arena.

Despite the novel direction of the new album, onstage Queen proved to be the same rocking outfit they’ve always been, letting loose with the same kind of guitar-bass-drums-piano barrage they’ve delivered in the past. “We don’t do “39” or “Lazing on aSunday Afternoon” in our show,“ Brian explains. He seems a bit defensive of Queen’s rock spirit, which is kept intact in the live set by “BohemianRhapsody,” “Sweet Lady,” “Prophet Song” and the deletion of the “experimental tunes” from A Night At the Opera.

By the by, those who missed Queenon earlier tours but want to see how they’ve changed now have the means. Queen bave joined the prestigious ranks of the Zeppelins, the Beatles, and the Rolling Stones whereby sorne illegal entrepreneur has issued a boot leg album of one of their American concerts. “I hate those things-they rarely give an accurate picture of the group,” Brian states unequivocally, and in this case he’s right. The Queen bootleg has transistor radio fidelity, and the only truly audible members of the band are Brian and Freddie. Yet the fact that a bootleg exists confirms the fact that Queen is now well on their way to the top.

CIRCUS MAGAZINE, APRIL 1975

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @x5vale, @39-brian, @onegoldenglance, @crosmopolitan, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @drummerqueenrmt, @old-fashioned-roger-boy-deactiv, @briianmaay, @l-over-bo-y, @inui-mycroft, @deacytits, @iminlovewithrogscar, @drowseoftaylor, @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @roger-taylors-car, @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie, @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @darlinginnuendo, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @foxmonkey, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @sailawaysweetbrimi

#Circus Magazine #Queen article

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anogete · 4 years

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Watch me vomit up my thoughts

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sorry I’ve disappeared on everyone. It’s been... a year. I think that probably goes for everyone, not just me. If you’re interested in a personal life update, then read on. If you’re looking for an update on my writing then I regret to inform you that I haven’t written a single thing this year. Maybe next year, though. There is always next year, right? I think I saw a blurb that we’re getting Sam and Bucky back in March. And Loki shortly after. Maybe that will be my inspiration.

I’m fortunate enough to have a job that lets me comfortably work from home. I’m also fortunate enough to own a home. And my last blessing is that I don’t have kids, so I didn’t have to figure out the nightmare of childcare and home schooling like some of you. My library on the second floor of the house has been my office since mid-March. I’ve been transitioning into the Associate Financial Advisor roll this year and that has been going well. I’m supporting the clients I’ve worked with as an assistant for the past nine years, so it’s been easy-going. I’m able to order my groceries for pick up to avoid going in the stores and I live in an neighborhood where it is easy to get delivery from restaurants. I’m incredibly lucky to have all these things going for me and I am thankful every damn day.

I fell into a bit of a funk this spring and early summer, but managed to pull myself out of it in August. I started planning my meals, walking 2-5 miles every day, and exercising on the Peloton bike I bought a year ago. I also started reading again and zipped through almost 50 books between June and now. By November, I was feeling strong and healthy. I felt like I had found a balance between work and activity and self-care. I was still coming to terms with my grandma passing in March of last year and with Ferguson (my sweet doggo) passing in September of last year. But I was trying and things were getting better. I felt like I had my feet underneath me.

Lemme stop you here if you don’t want to read about death and some general medical stuff. Because that’s mostly what you’re getting from here on out.

On November 21st, my mom texted me at 5:30am. I got it right away because I usually wake up around that time, alarm or not. She said she had dropped my dad off at the hospital because he was having difficulty breathing. Apparently, he’d been feeling bad for a week, but insisted to everyone that it was just his sinuses draining. I called her and began questioning her like I was cross-examining a star witness. I was able to piece together a really fucking shitty story.

My dad always went to a friend’s house on Friday evenings to have a couple beers and hang out. We’d all warned him since March that he needed to stop, but he insisted it was fine. He bought into a lot of the cavalier attitude that the Trump fans have over this virus. Plus, he was 64-years-old and didn’t take any medication so he probably thought it was no big deal. He spent a few hours at his friend’s house on November 6th. Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, he received a call from that friend on November 11th that the friend and the friend’s wife had tested positive for COVID. He didn’t share this info with my mother, my brothers, or my uncle, all of whom had been near him. By November 15th, he was coughing but insisted it was drainage when my mom suggested he take something for it and go to the doctor. By November 18th, he was worse and admitted to my mom that his friend had tested positive but that he hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks so his problems were just sinus-related and not COVID. My mom hates confrontation, so she accepted this and didn’t tell anyone, including me and my brothers. By November 19th, he had a fever and was having trouble breathing along with a persistent cough. He finally agreed to take some cold medicine, but refused to call his doctor’s office despite my mom asking him many, many times. At 4:30am on November 21st, he woke my mom and asked her to take him to the hospital because he couldn’t breathe well. She dropped him off and returned home to text me since they wouldn’t allow her in the building. She also texted my brothers, who admitted that they felt like they’d had a cold for several days. I live 4 hours away and haven’t traveled since March, so I hadn’t seen any of them.

A nurse called my mom a couple hours after she dropped my dad off to tell her that he was positive for COVID and pneumonia and they were admitting him to put him on a bipap. From what I understand, that’s the oxygen mask that pushes air into your lungs. Later that day, the health department called my mom and told her to quarantine for two weeks. My mom cooperated and gave them my brothers’ phone number (they live together), my uncle’s phone number, and the name and number of the person we suspected my dad was infected by (his friend). My brothers opted to get tested and were positive. They quarantined for two weeks and had mild to moderate symptoms (brief fever, very tired, cough, drainage). My mom had virtually no symptoms with the exception of some drainage that she took Mucinex for. She didn’t get tested, but she lived and slept in the same bed with my dad for a week while he was symptomatic. If my brothers got it from 30 minutes in the same room as him, surely she got it as well. My uncle and his son got tested, but they were negative.

My dad was cooperative with the doctor and nurses at first, but as the first day wore on he became irritated. He’d been without his chewing tobacco (yes, I know: eww) for several hours and was going through nicotine withdrawal, but wouldn’t admit that to the nurses or doctor. The next day he was put in ICU, still on the bipap, and even more unruly and rude to the staff taking care of him. They called my mom to ask her to talk to him and convince him to cooperate. They said if he couldn’t recover on the bipap and required a ventilator then “things would be very bad.” My mom tried to talk to him by text and he just continued to insist that he was well enough to come home.

I used to be close to my dad when I was a kid, but we’d grown apart over my adulthood. Over the past 20 years, my dad morphed into someone different. Everyone around him, especially my grandmother, told me they saw this happen the same as I did. The result was that my dad became someone I didn’t like and didn’t want to spend time with. He also didn’t seem to know how to talk to me anymore. To be fair, I didn’t give him much help in that regard. I texted him to see how he was doing and the conversation quickly devolved into him complaining about the care and insisting he was well enough to come home. I tried to reason with him and appeal to his love for my mom by saying that my fear was him coming home and giving her the virus. He told me that he’d decided he was no longer contagious and this was just a bunch of bullshit. This conversation via text continued through Monday and Tuesday (November 23rd and 24th), but it took a turn for the delusional. The doctor can only assume that the virus and the lack of oxygen had resulted in hallucinations and delusions. My dad told my mother and I that he was in an office building owned by a man named Mr. Pritt. He said he was the only patient and that this man was having his workers experiment on him and that they would eventually kill him. He demanded that we come get him immediately so he could recover at home. When we told him he’d die if he came home because he was too sick, he insisted he wasn’t sick at all and became very angry with us. He accused both my mom and I of conspiring to kill him because we wouldn’t help him. One day he told me that I’d confirmed what he’d known all along. I asked him what that was and he said, “That I always loved you more than you loved me.” This really hurt because even though I knew he was loopy, I also knew that he’d probably actually had that though before.

He began refusing treatment on those days and wouldn’t accept the steroids they were trying to give him and raised hell when they tried to take him for a chest x-ray. He also told them he didn’t want to be placed on a ventilator even though he had agreed to one when he was admitted. He was texting all of his friends and telling them he needed a ride home. He attempted to get up and leave the hospital twice, falling in the floor both times because he was so weak from lack of oxygen once he took the mask off. He also told my mom and I that he was secretly removing the mask when the nurses couldn’t see to prove to them that he wasn’t sick. He was taking and sending blurry pictures to us of the room as “evidence.” He told my mom to forward the pictures to “the feds.” The pictures were of his hospital bed, the whiteboard with his nurses’ and doctor’s names on it, his IVs, etc. By the morning of Wednesday, the 25th, I was getting some off-the-wall texts from him. He was begging us to come check him out of the hospital at that point and we were trying to play along and tell him we were getting everything in order for him to come home soon. Eventually, he told me that he wasn’t getting out of there alive and that he loved me. I told him I loved him too and begged him to do whatever the doctor said because the doctor wanted to help him get better.

A few minutes later, the nurse called my mom and asked if she’d been on the phone with my dad. My mom said she and I hadn’t spoken to him by any way other than text since he arrived at the hospital. The nurse said he had been on the phone with a woman, trying to convince her to come get him. The nurse made him put the call on speaker so she could tell the woman that he wasn’t well enough to leave. Because she was concerned that her message didn’t get through before my dad hung up, she called my mom to make sure he hadn’t convinced my mom to check him out against medical advice. My mom assured her that we had no intention of breaking him out of the hospital, but she didn’t know who the woman was. It wasn’t her or me. We called a long-time former co-worker of my dad’s that I’ve known since I was a kid and she said she hadn’t talked to him. We called his best friend and asked if he’d called and spoken to the man’s wife. Not her either. More on this later. I’m sure you know where it’s going.

We were stumped, but didn’t have time to deal with it because the nurse practitioner called and told my mom that my dad was delusional and could no longer make his own decisions. They said he had no chance of survival if they didn’t put him on a ventilator immediately. My mom called me. I told her to agree to it. The nurse called her back and gave the phone to my dad. He had agreed to the ventilator as well and wanted to tell my mom that he loved her and me and my brothers and his dog. His speech was slurred and muffled from the bipap mask, but she at least heard that. They intubated him right after the call. He was on a paralytic for a week. When they backed off on the paralytic, they had to increase his oxygen. A week later, the nurse tried to kindly tell us that he wasn’t getting better and his chances of survival were low. She suggested we start to talk about turning off the ventilator and letting him go. We did talk about that, which was very upsetting for everyone, but the doctor said he’d been on the ventilator for two weeks and we’d give him one more week to see what happens. By this point, he no longer had pneumonia. But the damage COVID did to his lungs couldn’t be repaired.

The ventilator was on full blast (highest pressure, highest oxygen) just to keep him somewhat stable. The days were ticking by and he still wasn’t making progress. Any step forward was followed by a bigger step back. My mom would call and get the update from the nurse most days, but I did call myself a few days. When I’d call and talk to the nurse, I’d get a grim picture that my mom didn’t seem to get or understand. I talked to her on December 12th and asked her if she was trying to protect my brothers and I or if she really thought he was going to get better. She admitted that she’d had a feeling for days that he wasn’t going to get better. We decided to just wait for the doctor to call. The nurse called my mom on Monday, December 14th and told her that my dad’s blood pressure was all over the place and they were struggling to keep him stable, that the ventilator was turned up to the highest settings and it was barely enough to keep him going. My mom texted me and told me she asked them to call me. The doctor called me within about 20 minutes and basically told me that my dad wasn’t going to make it. They’d had him on a ventilator for 19 days and within a couple days his throat tissue would likely become necrotic from the pressure of the cuff keeping the tube in place. They could only continue the ventilator if they could put in a trach and he wasn’t stable enough for that. In addition, he needed more support than the ventilator could provide. I was told he was either going to go into cardiac arrest while on the ventilator and die or they’d be forced to take him off the ventilator because of the damage to his throat. The most damning thing he told me was that he’d removed the sedation but my dad didn’t wake. He wasn’t responsive, wouldn’t squeeze their hands, wouldn’t flinch when they tested his reflexes, nothing.

I was told we could come sit with him and say goodbye when the ventilator was removed. I asked when and the doctor said soon. I live 4 hours from my parents, so I told him I’d leave right away and have my mom call to make arrangements for me to come to the hospital. I called my mom and told her all this and asked her to let the hospital know. I packed a bag and rushed out the door. On my way out of town, the doctor called me back and asked if I was on my way. My mom had told them that we’d come by the next morning and he was worried my dad wouldn’t make it through the night. So, I had to have a shitty conversation with my mom about how we couldn’t schedule my dad’s death for 7am on Tuesday, that it needed to happen at 8pm on Monday. I do not recommend these types of calls.

I got into town around 7pm and picked my mom up because she’d decided she wanted to come with me. My brothers said they couldn’t handle it and decided to stay at my mom’s house. My mom and I were taken to the COVID floor, given gowns, and gloves, told he was COVID positive so we’d need to continue to wear our cloth masks (no medical mask, is that safe?!), and escorted to his room in the ICU. Guys, he looked so fucking tired and so sad. It was heartbreaking. The nurse said their ICU was full and most of the patients were in the same shape as my dad. We talked to him for a few minutes, held his hand and all that shit. He didn’t respond in any way, so I don’t know if he was even there. We stepped out of the room while they removed the tube and gave him some medicine. When we went back in, his breaths were labored and it looked like he was gasping for air. My mom almost lost it because she wasn’t expecting that. I told her she could go wait in the hall and I’d stay with him until he passed. The nurse was kind enough to give him a little more medicine to make it less dramatic, but it was still difficult watching him breathe in that way. My mom sat so she couldn’t see his head to make things easier on herself. We sat there with him for about 40 minutes before he passed away at 8:32pm on Monday, the 14th.

I stayed with my mom last week and helped her arrange a private graveside service and the burial. She wanted to do a funeral and I thought that was the worst idea, so we agreed on doing a celebration of life next year when things are a little better (hopefully). To my knowledge, I haven’t had the virus. I operated under the assumption that my mom and brothers had it and were immune for now and wouldn’t transmit it. So, I was able to be with them without mask, but I did wear a mask when anyone else was around. I can’t say the same for the fucking funeral director and the locksmith’s employee who opened my dad’s safe for us, though. I live in a bigger city and mask wearing is pretty wide-spread here, but I saw so many people in my hometown (a more rural area) who didn’t bother with them.

Anyway, while all these graveside preparations are going on my mom goes through the bag of personal items from my dad that the hospital gave us. She tossed his clothes in the washer and placed his two rings into a bag to give to the funeral home so he could be buried in them. She also pulled out his wallet and his cell phone. His wallet has a picture that was obviously cut from an old driver’s license of a woman named Deb. Apparently, this woman lives in Florida and had attended junior high school with my dad. About two years ago, my parents took a trip to Florida and visited with her for several days. She even friended my mom on Facebook. So, the old driver’s license picture of her was very weird. What was even more disturbing? His wallet also contained a plastic bag of hair that very obviously is not my mom’s. And there was a piece of paper with three phone numbers on it. His phone was locked with a PIN and was set to wipe itself after 20 incorrect tries. I did tried to break into it, but wasn’t successful. My mom admitted that she suspected he’d been talking to someone on his phone for years, but she never directly confronted him about it. She’d just make comments about him always texting on his phone and being secretive. Two Christmases ago he bought her a ring at a store that she has an online login to. This particular store posts the receipts for all purchases linked to the customer’s account to the website. She saw that my dad had purchased two pieces of jewelry even though she only received one. My dad has never in his life bought me a Christmas present without my mom assisting, so she knew it wasn’t for me. She still didn’t confront him, though. She just told him that she could see the itemized receipts online.

I sympathized with my mom because I’ve experienced the infidelity of a partner in a relationship and if I were her then I’d want to know. But I also told her that I don’t know digging into it will make things any better and may not even give her the truth. He’s gone and there is nothing that can be done about that or anything else. While I was running errands for her the day before the graveside service, she messaged Deb in Florida and asked if she wanted her picture back. She also called the three phone numbers in his wallet. One went to Deb. The other two were the cell phone and work phone of my dad’s best friend’s wife, Anne. The same friend and wife who likely gave the virus to my dad. My mom told me when I got back that she’d done this and admitted she’d always felt like my dad was talking to Anne and might have an inappropriate relationship with her. I suspect my mom is right. Gut instinct is usually accurate. She said she didn’t think anything physical was going on with Deb, but she did think my dad was carrying on a flirtatious relationship with her via text. In both cases, he tried to hide it. And if you hide it, then you know it’s wrong. That night Deb messaged my mom back and said she had heard about what happened to my dad and was very sorry. She said that my dad was always clear that he was married and nothing went on that was inappropriate, but that he gave her someone to talk to when her husband was sick and dying five years earlier and they’d always kept in contact. Again, I don’t think my mom can count on anyone to give her the full story without spin or deceit. A couple days ago, she texted me a picture of a receipt from my dad’s truck. It was from last Christmas from a department store. It had two pieces of jewelry on it. She looked them both up using the UPCs listed and found the necklace he gave her last year and a ring she doesn’t recognize. We don’t know if he was giving this jewelry to Deb in Florida or Anne, his friend’s wife. Or someone else we don’t even know about. And we’re probably never going to know. Do I want to call Deb and Anne and tell them I want to full story? Fuck yeah. Do I think it will fix anything? Fuck no.

TL;DR? I finally found some balance in my life late this summer. This balance was destroyed when my dad got COVID and died after three weeks in the hospital. And when you’ve already got a not-so-great relationship with your dad, you get all kinds of feels when he dies in a traumatic way and then you find out he’s been screwing around on your mom. I also have lots of anger toward him for knowingly exposing my other family members to the virus simply because he didn’t want to own up to getting it after doing something we’d all told him to stop doing.

Health-wise? I think I’m okay. It’s been almost ten days since I was with him in the hospital and seven days since his graveside service. I haven’t had any symptoms yet and I think most people show symptoms by now. Regardless, I’ve been at home since I returned last Thursday evening and I intend to stay home until January 2nd. My boyfriend is also home and will be here until January 2nd as well. Just to be safe. My brothers are mostly recovered, but both still have a bit of a cough. My mom never had much in the way of symptoms and seems fine. My dad was 64 and overweight. We found out once he was admitted to the hospital that his regular doctor had told him he was a diabetic and my dad insisted on “treating” that with cinnamon instead of actual medicine. Other than those things, he didn’t have any health concerns. Be careful, ya’ll.

#Anogete in real life #personal #covid_19 #fuck covid #family #death

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Monday, September 20, 2021

Biden’s Entire Presidential Agenda Rests on Expansive Spending Bill (NYT) Biden’s entire presidential agenda is riding on the reconciliation bill being crafted in Congress right now. No president has ever packed as much of his agenda, domestic and foreign, into a single piece of legislation as President Biden has with the $3.5 trillion spending plan that Democrats are trying to wrangle through Congress over the next six weeks,” Tankersley writes. “It is almost as if President Franklin D. Roosevelt had stuffed his entire New Deal into one piece of legislation, or if President Lyndon B. Johnson had done the same with his Great Society, instead of pushing through individual components over several years. If he succeeds, Biden’s far-reaching attempt could result in a presidency-defining victory that delivers on a decades-long campaign by Democrats to expand the federal government to combat social problems and spread the gains of a growing economy to workers. If he fails, he could end up with nothing. As Democrats are increasingly seeing, the sheer weight of Mr. Biden’s progressive push could cause it to collapse, leaving the party empty-handed, with the president’s top priorities going unfulfilled. … If Mr. Biden’s party cannot find consensus on those issues and the bill dies, the president will have little immediate recourse to advance almost any of those priorities.

Child care in the US is a ‘broken market,’ Treasury report finds (Yahoo Money) A Treasury Department report this week characterized the U.S. child care system as “unworkable” as Democrats push reform that experts say is an “overdue and critical investment.” The average American family with at least one child under age 5 uses 13% of their income to pay for child care, according to the report, nearly double the 7% that the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services considers affordable. Additionally, less than 20% of the children eligible for the Child Care and Development Fund—a federal assistance program for low-income families—are getting that funding. “Child care is a textbook example of a broken market, and one reason is that when you pay for it, the price does not account for all the positive things it confers on our society,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen said in a statement on Wednesday. “When we underinvest in child care, we forgo that; we give up a happier, healthier, more prosperous labor force in the future.”

Inspiration4 Astronauts Beam After Return From 3-Day Journey to Orbit (NYT) After three days in orbit, a physician assistant, a community college professor, a data engineer and the billionaire who financed their trip arrived back on Earth, heralding a new era of space travel with a dramatic and successful Saturday evening landing in the Atlantic Ocean. The mission, which is known as Inspiration4, splashed down off the Florida coast at 7:06 p.m. on Saturday. Each step of the return unfolded on schedule, without problems. Within an hour, all four crew members walked out of the spacecraft, one at a time, each beaming with excitement as recovery crews assisted them.

Haitians on Texas border undeterred by US plan to expel them (AP) Haitian migrants seeking to escape poverty, hunger and a feeling of hopelessness in their home country said they will not be deterred by U.S. plans to speedily send them back, as thousands of people remained encamped on the Texas border Saturday after crossing from Mexico. Scores of people waded back and forth across the Rio Grande on Saturday afternoon, re-entering Mexico to purchase water, food and diapers in Ciudad Acuña before returning to the Texas encampment under and near a bridge in the border city of Del Rio. Junior Jean, a 32-year-old man from Haiti, watched as people cautiously carried cases of water or bags of food through the knee-high river water. Jean said he lived on the streets in Chile the past four years, resigned to searching for food in garbage cans. “We are all looking for a better life,” he said.

Three Weeks After Hurricane Ida, Parts of Southeast Louisiana Are Still Dark (NYT) For Tiffany Brown, the drive home from New Orleans begins as usual: She can see the lights on in the city’s central business district and people gathering in bars and restaurants. But as she drives west along Interstate 10, signs of Hurricane Ida’s destruction emerge. Trees with missing limbs fill the swamp on either side of the highway. With each passing mile, more blue tarps appear on rooftops, and more electric poles lay fallen by the road, some snapped in half. By the time Ms. Brown gets to her exit in Destrehan 30 minutes later, the lights illuminating the highway have disappeared, and another night of total darkness has fallen on her suburban subdivision. For Ms. Brown, who works as an office manager at a pediatric clinic, life at work can feel nearly normal. But at home, with no electricity, it is anything but. “I keep hoping every day that I’m going to go home and it’ll be on,” she said. Three weeks have passed since Hurricane Ida knocked down electric wires, poles and transmission towers serving more than one million people in southeast Louisiana. In New Orleans, power was almost entirely restored by Sept. 10, and businesses and schools have reopened. But outside the city, more than 100,000 customers were without lights through Sept. 13. As of Friday evening there were still about 38,000 customers without power, and many people remained displaced from damaged homes.

Favela centennial shows Brazil communities’ endurance (AP) Dozens of children lined up at a community center in Sao Paulo for a slice of creamy, blue cake. None was celebrating a birthday; their poor neighborhood, the favela of Paraisopolis, was commemorating 100 years of existence. “People started coming (to the city) for construction jobs and settled in,” community leader Gilson Rodrigues said. “There was no planning, not even streets. People started growing crops. It was all disorganized. Authorities didn’t do much, so we learned to organize ourselves.” The favela’s centennial, which was marked on Thursday, underscores the permanence of its roots and of other communities like it, even as Brazilians in wealthier parts of town often view them as temporary and precarious. Favelas struggle to shed that stigma as they defy simple definition, not least because they evolved over decades. Paraisopolis is Sao Paulo’s second-biggest favela, home to 43,000 people, according to the most-recent census, in 2010. Recent, unofficial counts put its population around 100,000.

The barbecue king: British royals praise Philip’s deft touch (AP) When Prince Philip died nearly six months ago at 99, the tributes poured in from far and wide, praising him for his supportive role at the side of Queen Elizabeth II over her near 70-year reign. Now, it has emerged that Philip had another crucial role within the royal family. He was the family’s barbecue king—perhaps testament to his Greek heritage. “He adored barbecuing and he turned that into an interesting art form,” his oldest son Prince Charles said in a BBC tribute program that will be broadcast on Wednesday. “And if I ever tried to do it he ... I could never get the fire to light or something ghastly, so (he’d say): ‘Go away!’” In excerpts of ‘Prince Philip: The Royal Family Remembers’ released late Saturday, members of the royal family spoke admiringly of the late Duke of Edinburgh’s barbecuing skills. “Every barbecue that I’ve ever been on, the Duke of Edinburgh has been there cooking,” said Prince William, Philip’s oldest grandson. “He’s definitely a dab hand at the barbecue ... I can safely say there’s never been a case of food poisoning in the family that’s attributed to the Duke of Edinburgh.” The program, which was filmed before and after Philip’s death on April 9, was originally conceived to mark his 100th birthday in June.

Relations between France and the U.S. have sunk to their lowest level in decades. (NYT) The U.S. and Australia went to extraordinary lengths to keep Paris in the dark as they secretly negotiated a plan to build nuclear submarines, scuttling a defense contract worth at least $60 billion. President Emmanuel Macron of France was so enraged that he recalled the country’s ambassadors to both nations. Australia approached the new administration soon after President Biden’s inauguration. The conventionally powered French subs, the Australians feared, would be obsolete by the time they were delivered. The Biden administration, bent on containing China, saw the deal as a way to cement ties with a Pacific ally. But the unlikely winner is Britain, who played an early role in brokering the alliance. For its prime minister, Boris Johnson, who will meet this coming week with Biden at the White House and speak at the U.N., it is his first tangible victory in a campaign to make post-Brexit Britain a player on the global stage.

Hong Kong’s first ‘patriots-only’ election kicks off (Reuters) Fewer than 5,000 Hong Kong people from mostly pro-establishment circles began voting on Sunday for candidates to an election committee, vetted as loyal to Beijing, who will pick the city’s next China-backed leader and some of its legislature. Pro-democracy candidates are nearly absent from Hong Kong’s first election since Beijing overhauled the city’s electoral system to ensure that “only patriots” rule China’s freest city. The election committee will select 40 seats in the revamped Legislative Council in December, and choose a chief executive in March. Changes to the political system are the latest in a string of moves—including a national security law that punishes anything Beijing deems as subversion, secession, terrorism or collusion with foreign forces—that have placed the international financial hub on an authoritarian path. Most prominent democratic activists and politicians are now in jail or have fled abroad.

The Remote-Control Killing Machine (Politico/NYT) For 14 years, Israel wanted to kill Iran’s top nuclear scientist. Then they came up with a way to do it while using a trained sniper who was more than 1,000 miles away—and fired remotely. It was also the debut test of a high-tech, computerized sharpshooter kitted out with artificial intelligence and multiple-camera eyes, operated via satellite and capable of firing 600 rounds a minute. The souped-up, remote-controlled machine gun now joins the combat drone in the arsenal of high-tech weapons for remote targeted killing. But unlike a drone, the robotic machine gun draws no attention in the sky, where a drone could be shot down, and can be situated anywhere, qualities likely to reshape the worlds of security and espionage.

Israeli army arrests last 2 of 6 Palestinian prison escapees (AP) Israeli forces on Sunday arrested the last two of six Palestinian prisoners who escaped a maximum-security Israeli prison two weeks ago, closing an intense, embarrassing episode that exposed deep security flaws in Israel and turned the fugitives into Palestinian heroes. The Israeli military said the two men surrendered in Jenin, their hometown in the occupied West Bank, after they were surrounded at a hideout that had been located with the help of “accurate intelligence.” The prisoners all managed to tunnel out of a maximum-security prison in northern Israel on Sept. 6. The bold escape dominated newscasts for days and sparked heavy criticism of Israel’s prison service. According to various reports, the men dug a hole in the floor of their shared cell undetected over several months and managed to slip past a sleeping prison guard after emerging through a hole outside the facility. Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip have celebrated the escape and held demonstrations in support of the prisoners. Taking part in attacks against the Israeli military or even civilians is a source of pride for many Palestinians, who view it as legitimate resistance to military occupation.

Jaw-dropping moments in WSJ's bombshell Facebook investigation (CNN Business) This week the Wall Street Journal released a series of scathing articles about Facebook, citing leaked internal documents that detail in remarkably frank terms how the company is not only well aware of its platforms’ negative effects on users but also how it has repeatedly failed to address them. Here are some of the more jaw-dropping moments from the Journal’s series. In the Journal’s report on Instagram’s impact on teens, it cites Facebook’s own researchers’ slide deck, stating the app harms mental health. “We make body image issues worse for one in three teen girls,” said one slide from 2019, according to the WSJ. Another reads: “Teens blame Instagram for increases in the rate of anxiety and depression ... This reaction was unprompted and consistent across all groups.” In 2018, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg said a change in Facebook’s algorithm was intended to improve interactions among friends and family and reduce the amount of professionally produced content in their feeds. But according to the documents published by the Journal, staffers warned the change was having the opposite effect: Facebook was becoming an angrier place. A team of data scientists put it bluntly: “Misinformation, toxicity and violent content are inordinately prevalent among reshares,” they said, according to the Journal’s report.

#headlines #news

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dear-diary-where-is-my-soul · 3 years

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Hey Diary,

It has been... almost a whole year? Idk. I’m here anyhow. I somehow got it into my head that when high school was over, I would somehow become magically no longer mentally ill. That didn’t happen, obviously. So here I am. I did a bit of digging and I think I have ADHD (Which I like to call dopamine deficiency) and also ASD (Which I like to call a pain in my ass). I’m just kidding, they’re both a pain in my ass. But at least I know what it’s called. I can kind of manage it now because I spent hours looking for management plans that work for both ADHD and Autism, and seeing what worked for me. I know for a fact that I have Anxiety (Of the social variant - possibly tied to autism) and depression (That I’ve had since age 12 - about 6 years). I thought I was over my anorexia but it keeps pestering in the back of my mind. I’m eating now, but it still isn’t 3 meals a day. It’s not ‘healthy’ meals but it’s better than nothing. I still think that sometimes I’m not worth the food. My boyfriend (The same boyfriend) is a really good cook. His food is so good. But neither of us can eat it. I moved out for a short while, about 4 months. I moved in with my boyfriend, who moved in about 9 or so months before me, with his ‘dad’ (Non-bio, no longer dating [Boyfriends] mother). During those 4 months, I spent more than 1000′s dollars in savings not to mention my Centrelink payments, which only started during the second month [half of what my boyfriend was getting], to trying to keep me and my boyfriend alive. Which would’ve been way easier if I didn’t need to spend over 500 dollars in taxi fees because his dad didn’t know when to stop drinking. So, a little bit of extra kicked in the fucking balls, Before I moved in, I was told that I wouldn’t need to worry about rent until my Centrelink payments were sorted. But, when we move out, my boyfriend sold his bike and 650 of that money was given to his dad because he was keeping track of how long I didn’t pay rent for and said I owned it to him. Even Though my boyfriend offered 2/3 of my rent (Plus his own) every payday. We were both told that it was fine and that we didn’t have to worry about it. He always complained about me being anti-social. Which was really fucking clear to begin with. I never said that I would be interacting with him more than what was comfortable. This was his main excuse for drinking. But, until I moved in he completely ignored my boyfriends attempts to be social with him. He wasn’t my type of person. Conservative, mid 40′s, cis-het, white man with ASD and previous alcohol and drug use problems. AKA ‘There’s nothing wrong with the world you’re just to sensitive, men are men and women are women nothing will change that, except don’t move my living room around because that’s too much for me to handle’. He used to scream at my boyfriend that he isn’t a real guy, but got upset when my boyfriend then put distance between them to not get any more hurt and depressed. I hated it. I can’t handle any loud noises or anything like that. It sends me up the wall with anxiety and I’m very easily over stimulated. Unfortunately, our roommate did not get over stimulated easily and really like heavy metal, which he would play unbearably loud until 2-3 AM on the weekends. He also nearly broke our bedroom door several times. He would scream insults at us through the door and while outside our window (which had a little undercover deck-type-thing, where he drank himself stupid). Me and my boyfriend took a two week holiday up back to our home town, because my boyfriend was having stress-induced Seizures. He was having full-on whole-body fits every 2-3 days that lasted about 5 minutes (These have stopped since we moved out). Anyway, we got back home, being dropped off by my bf’s mum,( who has since very much mellowed out [about my boyfriend being trans] by having another kid, this kid is nearly 18 months old, has some kind of IBS [Unconfirmed as of yet, but he is in a lot of pain]). We put away the few bits of shopping we got, as we were band from touching our roommates food over a month before because he was asked not to eat ours (Not true, but he did use a full packet of our cheese [7 or 8 bucks per packet] in one meal that neither me or my boyfriend liked or could eat, which we were talking about to my boyfriends mother who mentioned it). He also said that we accused him of stealing and shit like that (We didn’t). But anyway, We make dinner because it was around 5;30 or so and we didn’t eat lunch. We put of a movie in the background and my boyfriend goes out for a cigarette on the deck-thing and when he comes back in he tells my that our roommate has been drinking but will stop soon because we’re home. 8:30 comes around, me and my bf are heading to bed with the same movie on in the background and that’s when the screaming starts. 20 whole minutes of our roommate screaming “FAGGOTS” to try to get our attention. During this time, we call my bf’s mum, who is still in town because she had a doctors appointment the next day, staying at my bf’s nans house. We then get up, grab our still-packed from our two week trip (day)bags, and wall ten minutes away to the shopping centre near-by and call a taxi. During that night, our (ex)roommate texted my bfs mum basically saying that we are ‘kicked out’ and that he hates all of us. This isn’t the first time this has happened but it is definitely the last. We went back, the next day while he was at work, grabbed our other bags and a few of the essential items we wanted for the next week or so. Our landlord (ex-roommates mother) said that everything was fine to stay there until we could get it picked up within the next two months or so. She offered to pack it all up for us as well, which we accepted because neither of us wanted to go back to that house again. We haven’t been there, or seen him since. My bf’s mother’s bf went with my brother to pick up all of the rest of our stuff a week after we left. We set back up in my home town, now both of us have been ripped away from our new doctors, our counsellors and my new therapist less than a week before my first appointment (which I now do via telehealth [phone/video calls]). This was about a month ago. me and my bf now have set up and pay for our internet ourselves and I got a disney+ subscription because I'm obsessed with feeling the safety I felt during childhood. Anyway, I live with my boyfriend and his mum and her boyfriend and their 1 year old. Both of my parents live in this town but we’ve been in lock down and I haven’t been able to see them. I feel like I’m drowning because I don’t go outside. I used to walk with my boyfriend, but because he has several chronic health issues we can’t risk him going outside and he can not exercise as much as either of us would like due to chronic pains (And a busted knee which he has scans for in a fortnight or so). I’m in an online course, which was fully government subsidized due to the amount of people who need training or retraining after Covid-19. I really like it, and it is making me think more harshly about wanting to start a business. However, I don’t think I can do the assessments. Almost all of them seem to require me being social on the online group chats, and it fuels my social anxiety so much I didn’t do anything to my course for a whole month. And this whole thing was a way to help me get rid of those feelings, but I still don’t know what to do. How do I word it to the teachers? I haven’t talked to any of them before and it might seem like I just don’t want to put in the work in the social aspects of my assessments because I don’t have a diagnoses. This sucks. I can barely sit my ass down and read through the work as it is. Then I start thinking about how I'm 1 quarter of the way through this course and haven’t brought myself to do a single assessment. Then I freak out over how much I’ve done (or haven’t done) and don’t end up doing the work.

#diary #dear diary #my diary #home issues #kicked #roommate rant #ex #ex roommates #asd #self diagnosed autism #self diagnosed adhd #depression #anxienty #health #learning

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whatissleepeven · 4 years

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I -

I can't stop thinking about it -

About what, you ask?

An Obey Me! and Fate/Grand Order crossover

(Warning: Long post ahead!)

Either the bois get summoned to Chaldea or they're able to summon Servants themselves

(...I'm leaning towards the first)

The tomfoolery! The shenanigans!

Imagine: Humanity's Last Master (aka you) ends up summoning them as they trek through Rome with Mash and the Servants they already summoned

They set up the summoning circle, but one minor mistake is made and the summoning glow looks a bit darker than usual and BOOM

"S-...Senpai...is this normal?"

You have no idea what's normal or not, I mean you're time travelling to save your people for fucks sake -

"Servant of the Rider Class. My True Name is Lucifer. Do not expect me to cater to your every whim."

...Wait he's a what now??

They were not supposed to have this whole "Class" thing designated to them (it's not how demonic summoning works he swears), and yet they do for some reason

(You can tell I had fun thinking of their Classes)

The introductions are...cold, to say the least

"Saber Class Servant, and none other than The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed! I got better things to be doing, so don't go calling me whenever ya want, got it?!"

"Lancer Class...Leviathan. I have an mmorpg raid coming up, so I can't stick around."

"Berserker Class. My name is Satan. What? Are you surprised that I seem calm for a Berserker? It's quite alright; I get that reaction often enough. A word of advice: Be careful what you wish for."

"My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Asmo darling! I'm a Caster, which is good. I can't mess up the work done on my nails and hair!"

"Hm...Oh? Sorry, I was thinking about lunch. Servant Class: Ruler. I'm Beelzebub, but most people call me Beel. Do you have any snacks on you?"

"Servant Class: Avenger. My name is Belphegor, but I doubt you'll be alive long enough to remember that. I won't do your dirty work for you, human."

You are just...done at that point. You are literally carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and their attitudes are not helping

"Yeah, yeah, here's the gist: there's a war going on and we're trying to save the planet. The future's been incinerated, and it's our job to fix what went wrong. I don't have time for your uncooperation; get on board."

(Mash is worried for your mental health)

It takes some time, but they do manage to open up to you

The main catalyst for this is when they heard you talking to Robin Hood, who was summoned in France

"Say, Master...I gotta ask: Why are you doing this?"

You pause what you're doing, shooting him an incredulous look. "You mean saving the world?" You ask in return.

He shrugs, tilting his head forward in a slight nod. "Yeah. There's other people who could do this, aren't there?"

"There isn't." The brothers hear you say firmly. Beel almost went in because he wanted a snack, but the others held him back; the conversation had peaked their interest, and they wanted to hear what you had to say.

"Robin..." Your voice comes out strained, as if you were barely holding yourself together. "I watched innocent people die in front of me. Good people. The world outside is gone. I can't even go see my family, because they're dead. I'm not expecting you to understand, but it hurts so bad that somedays I don't feel like getting up. If I die, it's all over; humanity's done. I'll never be able to see my family's smiles again, I'll never be able to hear their laughter; I'll...I'll never be able to go back home.

"So, instead of asking why I'm doing this, you should be asking "How far are you willing to go?" instead."

Robin is silent for a while. Mammon shifts on his feet. The Green Archer finally speaks, somber but curious tone filling the air. "And? What's the verdict, Master?"

Your voice has a tone of finality to it that shoots them back to the past, back towards the Celestial War. It's final, but it's tired. "Whatever it takes."

(And, so, the brothers come to understand and even sympathize with your situation a little bit. You had to fight for the sake of others without rest, you were a leader, you were a savior, but most of all...you were alone. And something about that didn't sit right with them.)

They would fit in perfectly with Chaldea's dynamics, actually

Mammon has a gold sword he lovingly calls Goldie (yes it changes into his beloved credit card)

His Noble Phantasm is literally him raising his sword and mountains of Grimm burying his opponents from the sky as he cackles out:

"Don't worry, I'll take all that money off ya hands!"

Or, in a proud declaration:

"My sword is my love, and my love is my sin. I'll take all that you have on ya! STULTUS IN AVARITA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Greed of the Fool")

(It also gives you an increased drop rate in materials)

Leviathan's weapon is his trident

He's surprised that he wasn't summoned as a Rider, once he got used to the "Class" thing (which was fairly quick, he's seen an anime like this before). I mean, he has a giant snake named Henry 1.0 and Lothan that he would've loved to fight side by side with

He usually doesn't fight, but he proves to be invaluable in Okeanos since he has knowledge on war strategies at sea

His Noble Phantasm is a bit strange, but endearing (sad). He rushes forward with his trident glowing, saying either:

"I can't get the latest Ruri-chan merch because you blew up the world...I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you!"

Or, in a somber tone:

"Even though it's fun, a gamer's life becomes stifling if you keep playing by yourself. I hope you're watching, (Y/N)! EX SOLA INVIDIA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Envy of the Lonely")

(Chance of Death increases with Overcharge, and it hits a single enemy)

Satan? Even though he's a Berserker, he behaves more like a Caster (initially)

He's holding a book that shoots out beams of pure energy at his opponents

His Noble Phantasm is...more violent

"Ah, so you've decided to call upon my Noble Phantasm...don't blame me if it's too much for you."

Or, he begins in a deathly calm voice:

"I am me; that's all I need to be. I know this, so why...? Why does this happen? TELL ME! "

He discards his books altogether, grabbing a single enemy with his bare hands and ripping them to shreds.

Asmo’s skill is charming his enemy, which confuses most people since you’d think it’d be his Noble Phantasm

Instead, it boosts his allies’ attacks and NP by 30%

“Don’t get too hurt out there~!”

Beel’s Noble Phantasm heals all allies and increases their attack

“We can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

(Once he hits his last Ascension, your party gets the added bonus of him attacking a single enemy with a lance. All other Ascensions has him using his fists for attacks.)

Belphie’s Noble Phantasm is almost as violent as Satan’s, and yes...he chokes out a single enemy out (rip MC)

“HA! You think I’d work with the likes of you, a lowly human? Get out of my sight.”

It’s Instant Death, unless Evasion or Invincibility is activated

Lucifer’s pride is a bit wounded. He’s a Rider, of all things??

(...He eventually gets used to it though)

His Noble Phantasm is him literally mounting Cerberus and raising his spear towards the heavens, looking as radiant as the days before the Fall

“It seems drastic times call for drastic measures. Cerberus, I trust you to handle things here.”

And Cerberus runs forth, either chomping the enemy in two or breathing fire at them and turning them into ash. (It hits everyone)

Satan and Jekyll hang out a lot because, well...they’re a lot alike

Mammon can and will do stupid shit with the Cu Squad and you cannot change my mind

One time he teamed up with Cascu to steal the other Cu’s spears (Mammon wanted to sell them on Akuzon), and well...half of Chaldea is still in repair to this day

Merlin of all Servants is the one to look after Belphie and Beel

They usually hang out in the garden Robin tends to, Asterios occasionally joining them while bringing both food and Euryale

Asmo frequently visits Medea, dragging Medusa into their group

(Dantes grows fond of Beel overtime, I mean Beel is just so pure there’s no way you couldn’t like him)

Lucifer and EMIYA butt heads at first, but they end up becoming friends despite that

Lucifer admires EMIYA’s skill to keep up with Servants who have a black hole for a stomach, and EMIYA admires Lucifer’s skill to round up his brothers effortlessly when the need to arises (or so he thinks, because he does not know about the Hate Lucifer Club which is run by Satan and Belphie).

Levi and Fran have a pure kind of friendship that must be protected at all costs

He shows her new animes and games, and even though she’s confused most of the time she never fails to listen to his ramblings, nodding whenit was appropriate

BONUS: Undateables (+ Luke)!

Solomon’s situation is...peculiar.

He’s not a Servant, but he behaves like one??

(He’s actually a mage that helps you on your journey to save humanity)

Unlike Da Vinci, he’s able to accompany you to the Singularities (free of charge, too!)

Once he sees the other Solomon, all he says is “I see...interesting.”

(Ngl he probably figured out everything by the time you all went to Okeanos)

Asmo also drags him into his group (consisting of Medea and Medusa), offering to paint his nails as they talk about anything and everything

Simeon is a Lancer and you can’t change my mind

He’s more of a buffer for your team, like Asmo. His skills are primarily healing, and his NP saps the health of an opponent while healing someone other than himself with that health (he cannot heal himself)

He gets along great with Karna!! The two are so nice and kind that it hurts to look at them both for too long

Solomon tells him about the gossip Asmo has on the other Servants. He always listens with an amused look on his face.

Luke is a smol Caster, but he will not hesitate to break your kneecaps

He, too, is a buffer for your team

“I’ll defend you from those demons, (Y/N)!”

His Noble Phantasm heals all allies, restoring their health by 20%

He bakes with Fsn Cu at night, having Proto Cu and Robin Hood try out his sweets. Beel is there 10/10 times, eating any failures or rejects

Diavolo is Ruler Class because he is literally the Ruler of Hell

Surprisingly (to you, at first), he’s the one who always asks to accompany you. He’s very open and considerate, wanting to help wherever and whenever he can

“The Human Realm is essential if we are to establish harmony between the three Realms. Without it there...angels and demons would fight each other for eternity.”

He tells you about his ideas for an exchange program and you offer him input

His Noble Phantasm is applying Invincibility to two allies for 3 turns after dealing heavy damage to a single enemy (cannot apply Invincibility to himself)

He likes to talk with Caster Gil and Archer Gil about their past, going to Ko Gil on occasion. He helps look after the child Servants, and he can often be found reading bedtime stories to them

(Everyone was scared of him at first once they found out who he was, so he usually held off revealing his True Identity)

Barbatos, at first glance, seems like an Archer...but in reality is an Assassin

(HE CONTROLS TIME FOR F*S SAKE)

His Noble Phantasm, depending on the enemy selected, can revive a fallen ally and add them to the Sub Team

(This is only if the enemy that killed the ally is selected)

This stuns him for 3 turns no matter what

He likes to chat with the Tamamo that helps EMIYA in the kitchen. How the two are communicating without issues is up to anyone’s guess

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amphii-writes · 4 years

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How Karasuno And I would Interact Head cannons

Hey! this is just how I think I would interact with the team because I know myself better than I know you, the reader! so i’m sorry if these are a bit boring :,)

TW: swearing, Marijuana

I feel like id be partnered up with kageyama and hinata for a mfkin project and just absolutely hate myself for the rest of the week

Yes i would run that shit because i know for a fact i’d see kags and hinata as dumbasses and do the entire project myself.

I feel like hinata would mention that he and kageyama play volleyball and ask me to go to a game

Like i mentioned before i dont wanna be a dick even if these two boys are dumb so id go with willingly

So i get there and lets just say for the sake of debate its a home game against nohebi

And like daisho, he's a bit of a fuckboy but that isn't 100% a bad thing but i feel like because im so damn unlucky he’d pick me out of the crowd and just “ok so that bitch” and just gO HAM

Mfker would torment me and be like “im flirting ahaha” when im s c a r e d

Have you seen him?? Mfker is absolutely terrifying and I am 5’2, I am s m a l l h o e

I feel like kags and hinata would mention that i'm talking to daisho and tanaka and noya would just say what?? Ahaha say that again, run that past me one more time? And then destroy them for not telling them that a “cute” girl is there.

Tanaka would be like eH sHiTtY bOy and whatever and noya like a homie would be, would be backing him up and id just be like huh what

Of course, due to the fact that is that noya and tanaka are loud mfkers, suga, daichi, and asahi would of course swoop in and fix everything right up, of course daisho would take that as a “hes stealing my bitch” sorta thing because hes kinda dumb tbh

And then id have to introduce myself to the entire mfkin team and just be like “lol hinata and kags invited me so i came” and i feel like giving that information to the unholy duo that is tanaka and noya would fucking break them like ??? These dumbasses can get a cute girl to go to our games but I can't???

Low-key id cling to asahi, id see him as the most sane and poor guy would be so flustered and confused cause he scares girls

We’d get along because of our love of fashion and id teach him what i know from cosplaying

With that being said, I'd also be homies with the third years because I'm more er- level headed than the first years and some of the second years.

Daichi would probably view me as a godsend because i'm good at controlling people, I can read people really well and i'm not proud of it

Suga and i would probably get high before practice or after practice together, we’d just get zooted out of our minds and just show up like “lmao hey guys”

Tanaka and noya would instantly know but i think everyone else would be oblivious to it for the most part- ukai would know but he doesnt wanna deal with that shit so he’d just ignore it lmao

I feel like with my luck that’d be the day i decided to talk to tsukishima and try to befriend him and suga would be like “i fucking bet you 20$ if you can befriend that bastard” and as a broke bitch, id do it. Doesnt help that im higher than the fucking sky so id be like “hey” and thats it, we’d stare at eachother for like 30 seconds and id just start to cry because tSUKISHIMAS SO FUCKING SCARY AND IM HIGH AND WHAT IF HE NOTICES

Everyone would get on his ass and id just say he's intimidating and that's why i busted out in tears tbh

They’d just be like bitch huh i feel like kageyama would laugh at tsuki for this and yamaguchi would understand 100%

Hinata, tanaka, and noya, aka the unholy trinity, would ask me where i came from and if i speak another language- i know they don't mean to be assholes but i'd just think of it as a certified bruh moment.

Noya would call me a “foreign flower” and would hit on me sO MUCH and i bet you 50$ its because im his fucking height

I'd definitely become a manager after all is said and done because i love these dumbasses sm

Ennoshita, tanaka, and i would make memes about the group and would discuss drama from our and other schools together

Yamaguchi and i would probably just be the monster energy bitches of the club, he needs it for awake reasons and i need it for mental health and addiction reasons so we both relate

I have a feeling because my sleep shedule is so fucked id grab a coffee, crack open a monster, ask daichi if this is dangerous and he’d be like “well it cant be good for you-” and then just poor the fucking monster into the cup of coffee. No shame

Lmao he really would be like *sweatdrop* uh are you okay? And i'd just be like “dude i'm never ok” as a semi-joke and he’d be so worried about me hpsoayguhidasbfdgalh

I feel like i would bring food in for the boys as a thank you and a motivator, it’d work so fucking well you cant tell me otherwise

I feel like id be taken to one of those camps that they have in tokyo and just dodge every single simp i find

100% would have yamamoto, tanaka, and noya do that circle thing around me and kiyoko and just ask kiyoko if she's good

I have a feeling that if i were to have any romantic interests it’d be Asahi, Ennoshita, Noya, and Yamaguchi

On the sidelines for the games i feel like id be a fucking cheerleader no cap, While kiyoko and yachi are taking notes im doing cartwheels and getting the crowd pumped up

I feel like after a practice or two they’d add me into their group chat and it’d be absolutely chaotic

I feel like with kageyama and oikawa’s rivalry that oikawa would hit on me because he thinks that kageyama likes me romantically n shit which is fucked but also kinda funny tbh

Lmao tsukishima would fucking hate me for no reason, just because my existance bothers him he’d just wanna punt me

I would give that man a brownie and he’d look me dead in the eyes and ask if it's laced.

Id jokingly say no those are for me and suga- noya and tanaka would laugh with me and suga and they’d make eye contact with us and just be like shit

We’d never talk or discuss it ever again, it'd be like voldemort

Asahi and i would probably share designs for outfits and clothing and have in-depth talk about it like its the fucking economy

The name of the Karasuno group chat is for sure “Karasuno VBC” because daichi needed something sane

thank you for reading!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #karasuno

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darkgeminisworld · 4 years

Text

This is gonna be a rant about a probably toxic friend so if you don't wanna read it, this is a heads up.

Okay so for several reasons, most of them being that I need to move on, I decided to write this lengthy rant about a friend I'm pretty sure will not be a friend of mine for much longer, which sucks bc he's almost my only irl friend but also feels good bc he's exhausting and I'm pretty sure he's also toxic.

I've met this guy like 6 and a half years ago, and we pretty much bonded over shared interests pretty fast. The first thing that bothered me was that he'd always be late, which would be absolutely fine if he'd been honest about it. But writing that it's five minutes until he's there and then showing up 30 minutes after that, or writing "I'm on your doorstep" and taking another ten minutes to show up, almost every single time, isn't, especially since I strained to be on time the first months (meaning I'd be too early bc my brain only does too early or too late, nothing in between). And his being late wasn't just 20 or 30 minutes, several times he was over an hour late. Oh, and once when we had agreed to meet he legit wasn't home and I waited around 2 hours, which I really should have held a grudge for back then and been way more pissed at him.

The second thing that bothered me was that he was way too nosy. He'd ask if I'm free to meet and play video games or whatever and whenever I said no he'd ask what I'm doing and if I can't manage my time another way to make time for him. And the thing is, not only did I not ask several times after he told me that he's busy that day, but I actively told him, several times over the course of about the last two years, that it bothers me and asked him to tone it down. My problem here is only that he didn't stop after I asked him to, bc before I told him and asked him, how was he supposed to know.

Coming out to him went well, though he did ask me whether I'm into him, which... No. Obviously it could've gone a lot worse, but still.

The next is more a small annoyance, a small itch, although it might have been a warning sign. He couldn't handle defeat very well. In most video games he was better, but he low-key aggressively denied it when I pointed out the win-lose ratio in my all-time favourite video game series and he'd try to cheat at other games. If it was only about him being competitive I'd understand, but that doesn't mean trying to rewrite the past by blatantly lying about it and ridiculing me for pointing out that that's bullshit, especially since it's only games, played for the fun of it.

We also went to the cinema sometimes, though if it had been up to him it'd have been way more often and that's another point where he really didn't let it go after getting a no. Whether he wanted to watch a horror movie after being told, several times, that I really don't like horror movies, or just the general question of whether we'd be going to the cinema, he'd ask again and ask what I'm doing, why did I not want to go, would another time be good, couldn't I ask my parents for money (which, to be fair, I could have. But I preferred not to bc back then it was really stressful bc we had to move and renovate and I just didn't wanna add more frustration if that makes sense? Plus I wanted to get my hands on some things, which required to save up) etc. Almost every time we did end up going, it was he who initiated it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanted to see some of the movies just as badly as he did, but... And if he can't even accept "no" from a friend of several years (also a 100% guy friend as far as he is aware bc I didn't start to address gender issues with him), I'm worried about other contexts with that word. Also we did some kind of text role play (just texting back and forth with OCs inserted into several fantasy works like the Inheritance Cycle, who would parttake in the storyline, no set rulebook or anything) and his characters did some questionable and even outright deplorable things and when I wanted his character to suffer consequences, he always wanted him to get away with it. Like, his idea for one of his characters "pranking" mine in reaction to a prank which in itself was a retaliation to his character's pranks was kidnapping and waterboarding my character. And he kept defending it as a prank and demanded that my character should just forgive his character, like... It really made (and continues to make) me wonder and worry just how much of his darker thoughts I don't know about. And I don't know how accurate it is but I once saw a post with a quote that went along the lines of "man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." (btw I couldn't think of a satisfactory way to phrase it so I ended up looking up the quote and apparently it's from Oscar Wilde)

So I spent a fair amount of time arguing with him over that and trying to explain to the best of my ability why it was wrong, and for some time it went better.

Fast forward a few months to the blm protests or more specifically news coverage of it and info I sent him. He defended cops and blamed the protestors and even justified the atrocities of the cops, so that was the first instance where we had a huge fight. I practically drowned him in links and videos etc and some weeks into that I thought I'd managed to get through to him (Spoiler: I didn't really get through to him) so I kept it in mind but continued to have contact with him and everything (bc at the time I didn't know that I didn't really get through as much as I thought).

From there on it pretty much went downhill. We had been thinking about doing a trip to London for a few days (his idea but at the time I really wanted to go, it was around 2 years ago when I still practically worshipped that one author, she who must not be named) and to this very day he's not letting it go completely. Even though the pandemic puts lots of obstacles in the way and I have more important things to worry about, namely final exams and applications. Even though London is expensive as shit and I still have no way to earn money atm. And about the vacation, I finally canceled last summer (and gave the aforementioned reasons) and he completely lost his shit and got super aggressive, insulted me and tried to guilt-trip me into taking that back and agreeing to still go on that vacation with him. Then we got into another fight where he wanted me to cancel the vacation with my grandparents, which was already planned and booked and everything in order to make time for the vacation I'd already said I don't want to go on with him anymore and aggressively demanded (he didn't ask, he sent a demand and bombarded me with exclamation marks) to know when exactly I'd be going on vacation with them. Then he went offline after I refused and ignored the next few messages I sent him and only replied when I asked "what I'd I reconsidered my stance on the trip?". I mean, baiting him with that definitely was shitty of me, but the result showed that that was basically what he wanted, pressure me into still going on that vacation. That specific conflict had been going on for weeks, bc despite me telling him that it's counterproductive and detrimental to my mental health to increase the pressure and therefore my anxiety about getting a job to pay for the trip, he kept pressuring me while acknowledging that he's giving me lots of pressure and anxiety and even using that against me.

He also didn't acknowledge that most times we try to meet, he goes offline for hours before replying and disappearing again. That would be absolutely fine if he didn't accuse me of doing that, which btw is his standard technique and it took me a long time to realize that. He always tries to shift the blame to make me look like the one at fault, and he always, always demands that I apologize when we had a fight via WhatsApp.

And when I started enforcing my boundaries and telling him to stop asking again and again why I can't meet, what I'm doing, or demanding other explanations, he started to attack me for the kind of language I use, so when I'm ever so slightly sarcastic he immediately latches onto that and creates a new conflict.

But this still isn't all, oh no. He's also basically an ecofascist, and is fully okay with sacrificing social justice to save the environment, completely choosing to ignore that the people he's protecting are the ones at fault and that the ppl who contribute the least are the ones experiencing the hardest ecological consequences.

He's said multiple times that he thinks both sides are equally bad, in the context of left and right in general as well as antifascism and fascism and that he doesn't "condone the oppressed defending themselves with any means necessary" bc that, too, would include violence. He's defending the "right to free speech" even when right-wingers say really disgusting shit, he disagrees with prohibiting demonstrations of ppl who think that Corona is a hoax, he has zero empathy for ppl who are affected, who suffer long-term consequences from infections, not even for ppl who die from it (he literally said "people die anyway, that doesn't justify imprisoning everyone else") and somehow still thinks he has the moral high ground.

And the last bit he did was explaining to me, from his endocisallohet white guy perspective, how I'm "not discriminated against" bc gay ppl in my country can get married (only since 2017 btw) and when I, despite the fact that I shouldn't have had to and that it was a real blow to my mental health, wrote him a message that was almost the length of an essay, he calmly started to question my replies with the detachedness of someone who's discussing whether pineapple belongs on pizza and demanding further explanation. To top it off, he said that marginalized ppl have to always reply to everyone calmly and politely, no matter if it was offensive bc the person asking might be unaware of that. Otherwise, he said, everyone would be right to stop listening to us. Like, he literally said that we don't deserve human rights if we're not licking the boots of our oppressors if that way of thinking is followed through to the end.

I almost forgot, he also thinks that white ppl should have a say in whether something is a racist slur, or whether something is racist in general (we're both white, but at least I'm trying my best to unlearn what my upbringing taught me instead of being the cliché of the white person who goes "how dare you call me racist, I've never been more insulted in my whole life!", which is basically his reaction)

So up until this last fight, I conceded some ground to him to end the fights and keep him as a "friend" not only bc I feel horrible when I imagine losing one of my only irl friends but also bc I was hoping I could get through to him and educate him, to the best of my ability, on how to be a good ally to marginalized people. But the disregard with which he treats my explanations why the way he talked (wrote) about marginalized people is absolutely not okay and the fact that he just told me that he genuinely doesn't see how he did anything wrong even after I explained it to him in detail is just too much to bear at this point.

Oh, and while looking through the chat to prove him a liar I found that apparently, to him a promise is a promise, no matter whether it was given under pressure or voluntarily, so do with that what you will.

#toxic friendship?#rant

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