#and she said to me. literally. ''i was thinking of cutting ties a few months ago but then he died and so that was really inconvenient for me

[cuntrytaylor]

well. my roommate of 5 years is moving out!

[ultrone]

settle down !

thought abt this while listening to settle down by the 1975 ҂ fluffy angst; homophobia, physical abuse, mentions of jackie being a girlfailure as always. . .﹙1.6k wc﹚

"shhhh," nat whispered, urging you to be as quiet as possible. "let's go," she said in a hushed tone, leading you into her trailer while holding your hand. carefully sneaking past the living room where her mom lay passed out on the couch, you both headed towards her room.

once inside, she gently closed the door, and both of you placed your backpacks on the floor. as your backpack thudded softly on the ground, nat's hands seized the collar of your shirt, pulling you in for a long-awaited kiss. smiles adorned both your faces as your lips met, and you savoured the faint taste of tobacco on her tongue. as your lips intertwined, she gently guided you backward, causing both of you to tumble onto her bed.

as she lay on top of you, your fingers delicately traced her waist, pulling her closer. in response, she rested one hand against your cheek, softly caressing it as your tongues playfully danced together. after a few minutes, you both separated to catch your breath.

“fuck— i’ve been waiting all day to do that,” nat breathed out, her energy drained from the kissing. her lips looked plump, and a faint blush coloured her cheeks.

"you have?" you asked her, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on your face.

"yeah," she confirmed with an equally mischievous smile, sliding her hand from your cheek to your upper chest, gently caressing it with her thumb. "seeing you get angry at jackie during practice and yelling at her was hotter than you think," she teased. "you'd be surprised."

“oh, shut up,” you said, poking her side softly. "she literally scored a goal in our own net. i know it was practice, but it's like the third ti—"

your words were cut short by nat's lips, which found yours once again. but this time, it wasn't a hurried kiss filled with desire; instead, it was tender and longing. after a few seconds, you broke the kiss, rubbing your noses against each other before pulling back slightly to gaze into her eyes.

her eyes were a beautiful greenish-blue, barely visible due to her dilated pupils, which were locked onto yours in an intense gaze.

“i wish we didn’t have to hide,” you whispered out. "and i wish you’d leave travis and just be mine," you said as your eyebrows began to furrow.

"i am yours, you know it," she said. "we've talked about this before, y/n. you know i can't leave him or people will start to—"

"i don't give a damn about what people think, nat. i'm fucking tired," you shot back, averting your gaze from hers.

"look at me," she insisted, moving her hand from your chest to the side of your head, tangling her fingers in your hair as she softly caressed played with it. at her touch, you slowly met her gaze, your eyes a bit watery.

"when i said i'm leaving this town with you, i meant it," she reassured you. "we just have to wait a few more months until graduation," she reminded you. both of you just stared at each other in silence. you were at a loss for words, and she was uncertain about what else to say to ease your mind.

suddenly, she stood up from the bed and walked to her closet, passing her hands over her jackets until she found the one she was searching for. she slipped her hand inside its pocket and retrieved a little box. returning to her spot on the bed, she sat down in front of you. slowly, you lifted yourself from your lying down position, now seated facing her.

she seemed a bit nervous, something you noticed from the way she bit her lower lip and moved her hands more than usual.

“i meant to give you this for our anniversary, but i guess i’ll just do it now,” she said, handing you the little box. you grabbed it and scanned it with your eyes; it was a small velvet black box. nat stared at you intently, her lip still between her teeth while she played with her fingers.

quickly, you opened the box, eager to see what was inside. your heart fluttered against your chest as you saw a beautiful silver ring, with some text inscribed inside it. you squinted your eyes as you brought it closer to your face, trying to make out the date.

“june 21st, 1996,” she said, catching your attention, before redirecting your gaze to the ring. “i wanted to make sure you knew i’m not fucking with you, so i thought about giving you a promise ring,” she explained, “that’s the graduation date. the day i'll take you away from here, and we’ll start our new life away from everything and everyone—just the two of us,” she said.

you remained completely silent, just staring at the ring in awe, before sliding it onto your finger. however, your silence started to make her feel a bit anxious.

“i-i know it’s not the best, but it was the best one i could afford. but when i save more money, i’ll— whoa!” she cried out as you suddenly jumped into her arms, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. you held her face in your hands and showered her with little kisses all over her face, making her burst into laughter.

“it’s beautiful, nat. i love it," you said excitedly, staring into her eyes which sparkled with a joy that's only there when she's with you. "i love you,” you corrected yourself, your gaze shifting between her eyes.

“i love you more,” she whispered back, a smile forming on her face as she started to get closer to you.

“impossible,” you managed to whisper right before she closed the short space between you, sharing yet another passionate kiss.

this time, however, your kiss was abruptly interrupted as nat's door swung open aggressively, causing the two of you to quickly pull apart. it was her dad; the commotion of both of you falling onto the ground and nat’s laughter had caught his attention, prompting him to come check. his gaze fixated on you, still on top of nat, the unfinished kiss hanging in the air.

“what the–” his voice carried a tone of shock, disbelief, and growing anger. his fists clenched at his sides as he continued to stare at you, his breathing becoming audible.

the joy that had enveloped the room only moments ago had turned into a tense, fearful silence. he glared at you and nat, his eyes settling on the both of you in a way that sent shivers down your spine. without a word, he stormed forward, his steps heavy with anger, and before you could react, he reached out and seized your arm with an iron grip. pain shot through your wrist as his fingers dug into your skin.

"get away from my daughter, you filthy...!" he spat, his voice laced with anger and disgust.

your heart pounded in your chest, fear and anger coursing through you. nat, panic etched across her face, moved instinctively. she darted forward, her voice a sharp plea. "dad, stop!"

he didn't heed her, his free hand balling into a fist. with a guttural roar, he swung it towards you, the blow landing on your cheek with a sickening thud. pain seared through your face, a burst of stars clouding your vision. the force of the punch sent you stumbling backward, and tears welled up in your eyes from the pain.

“you think you can just come in here and corrupt my daughter?!” he bellowed, his voice shaking with rage. his eyes were wild, and his face was contorted with rage and revulsion.

nat's heart-wrenching cry cut through the air. “get the fuck away from her!”

she rushed forward, her hands gripping her father's arm with a strength born out of desperation. she pulled with all her might, trying to tear him away from you.

as nat struggled with her father, her voice trembled but remained firm, "go!" she screamed.

with those words ringing in your ears, you didn't need further urging. tears ran down your cheeks as you scrambled to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. you quickly snatched your backpack from the floor and bolted towards the exit. the trailer door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing in your ears.

the outside air hit your face like a cold, harsh slap, and you stumbled a few steps before finding your footing. as you sprinted away from the trailer, your breaths came in ragged gasps, and tears blurred your vision. the pain in your cheek throbbed, matching the ache in your heart.

amid the pounding in your chest, a distant sound pierced the air—a gunshot. yet, strangely, the sound didn't register in your mind. your thoughts had turned into a repetitive mantra, numbing your senses: "june 21st, june 21st, june 21st." the significance of that date echoed through your consciousness, each repetition adding weight to your determination to run as fast as you could.

you ran through the tears and the pain, the echoes of that gunshot fading into insignificance against the backdrop of your racing thoughts. it was as if your mind had created its own barrier, shielding you from the external chaos.

and so, you ran, driven by an unwavering hope, your footsteps falling in rhythm with your heartbeat. both carried the same sentiment: escape, freedom, and a life together. it was a sprint fueled by the hope that one day you would break free from all this pain and finally find peace—a hope that the endurance would be worth the wait.

[the-guilty-writer]

What's in a Nickname?

Request: from @doctorsteeb

Okay okay one more in case the last one was too specific—

Rossi!daughter coming home from college or from traveling abroad?

David Rossi x daughter!reader

Summary: A stop by your dad’s office leaves the BAU with a few questions… Some of them are more sentimental than others.

A/N: I couldn’t not write this after the idea popped into my head and this request gave me free reign to work with. If you didn’t look up what the nickname was for the reader in my other recent rossi!daughter fic you will know by the end. And yes, this nickname will absolutely stick for rossi!daughter reader from here on out unless I get a specific request not to include it because we all know if Rossi had a daughter this nickname would be canon.

CW: lots of italian... like I went a bit overboard on this one so here are translations: rompere le scatole = literal translation is “to break boxes” but it is slang for getting on someone’s nerves. Non avere peli sulla lingua = literal translation is “not to have hair on the tongue” which is slang for tell the truth. la goccia che ha fatto traboccare il vaso = literal translation for “drop that made the vase overflow” equating to the straw that broke the camel's back. Ti voglio bene = “I love you” used for family and close friends. Mio passerotta… you’ve gotta read until the end to find this one out for yourself.

---

“I never thought I would actually miss sitting in traffic,” you said, a smile on your face.

You were finally home after a semester abroad in Jamaica. Having always lived in a city, it was nice to be close to the ocean and wildlife and small towns, but after five months you were ready to return to the concrete jungle that was Washington, DC.

Your dad, on the other hand, was rather grumpy about the back up on the highway. “I’ll remind you of that next week when you say that the traffic is rompere le scatole.” He looked down at his watch and hesitated. “Do you mind if I-”

“Stop by the office?” You finished for him. You didn’t hate the idea of stopping by work with your dad, but you would have much rather gone home to eat a nice warm meal.

“If it’s not okay I understand,” he said. “Non avere peli sulla lingua.”

For a second, you thought about his words. “It’s fine,” you told him, then held out a singular finger. “But only if you make pasta tonight.” David Rossi might have been a master at hostage negotiation, but you were a master at dinner negotiation.

“Certo, mio passerotta,” he said as he turned onto the exit towards Quantico.

---

“Hey,” Derek walked into the bullpen, a cup of coffee in his hands even though it was nearly 5 PM. “Anyone know who is in Rossi’s office?”

“Rossi, I assume,” Emily said. She glanced up at the open office door where you were sitting. “Well that’s definitely not Rossi.”

“Maybe she’s a groupie?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t think a groupie would have made it past security,” said Reid without looking up from his book.

“BAU team,” Hotch walked into the bullpen with a file in hand, Rossi in tow, and Garcia trailing closely behind. “We have a case.”

The rest of the team headed to the conference room, but Rossi walked to his office to deliver the news to you that pasta might not be happening that night.

---

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” Your dad asked. “I don't want this to be la goccia che ha fatto traboccare il vaso-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I'm sure. Pasta can happen another night. Stopping a serial killer cannot.”

The team filed out of the conference room- the case was an emergency one, which meant the full briefing would be done on the jet, but they couldn’t help overhear the conversation you were having with your father.

“Ti voglio bene, papa.” You wrapped him in a hug.

He returned it, holding you tight. “Ti voglio bene, mio passerotta.”

You had to pry yourself out of your father’s arms to get him to let go. With a kiss on the forehead and a reminder not to drink his expensive wine, he sent you on your way home and went into his office to pack up his briefcase.

“Rossi has a daughter?” Emily smiled a bit and looked around at Morgan, Reid, JJ, and Garcia in confusion. “Did any of you know?”

“I had no idea,” JJ said as she and the rest of the team watched you leave.

“What’s everyone looking at?” Hotch said from behind them as he exited his office. They all startled at their boss’s sudden appearance.

“Rossi’s daughter that none of us knew existed,” Garcia admitted, still surprised.

“Oh yes, that’s (Y/N),” Hotch said. “She’s been studying abroad but decided to spend this summer with Dave instead of her mother.”

“Which wife?” Morgan joked.

“Actually, her mother is a close friend from college.” Rossi said. Once again, the team jumped in surprise. “We both wanted a kid, but she didn’t want to deal with too many lawyers and I didn’t want to deal with someone not understanding that I have an inflexible job. It worked out for both of us. Now if we’re done talking about my personal life, I think we have a murderer to catch.”

Rossi and Hotch walked out of the bullpen, leaving the team to stand around awkwardly for just a moment before remembering they had a flight to catch.

---

The case was fast and successful, but after being awake for nearly 24 hours straight most of the team was asleep- all except for Reid and Prentiss who were playing chess in the most quiet corner of the jet.

“How’d you know she was his daughter?” Reid asked as he moved his queen.

“It was a pretty easy inference,” said Emily as she calculated her next move, carefully watching how Reid had strategically placed his knights. She captured one. “She called him papa. I figured she had to be his daughter.”

“What does it mean?” Reid moved a bishop forward.

“What does what mean?” Emily moved one of her pieces without thinking.

Reid captured a pawn in her confusion. “He called her mio passerotta. You smiled when he said her nickname. What does it mean?”

Emily’s mouth twitched slightly up at one corner and moved a rook before leaning back in her seat. “My sparrow,” she said, a melancholy tone to her voice. “Mio passerotta means ‘my sparrow.’”

Reid looked down, a small smile gracing his face before going back to the board and putting Emily’s king in check with a move his mentor had used against him many years before.

[djservo]

crashes in in a fashionably late kind of way.. january is finally over!! 31 days felt like 300 but now that we’re on the other side of it, what books did you read to start 2024? what was the vibe any standouts has it changed what’s on the horizon?

I've started keeping a physical calendar again so you'd think having the month splayed out in front of me so directly and constantly would be grounding but week after week I was just like Omg how is there More.... we made it thru tho god bless xx January was fun!!

in terms of my pre-planned monthly reading themes, January was a grace period where I let my whims guide me so I'm surprised at how many themes incidentally overlapped?? Naomi Klein referencing The Fire Next Time, the theme of internet doubles and online dark corners in Doppelganger essentially being the core of The Sluts, the dark spiraling mystery of The Sluts akin to the dark spiraling mystery of Mysterious Skin, yada yada yada. I luv when the dots inadvertently connect!! right place right time vibe!!

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

it's been really nice starting my reading off with Baldwin these past few years, something grounding about immersing myself in sharp indictments of the US amidst the usual new year wide-eyed blitheness. this one was only 2 essays but both gripped me just as much as his longer collections. I imagine it's hard to sort of reframe arguments, pleas, and points you've been talking about for years when things still haven't changed, but each new (to me) Baldwin essay reads so fresh in the way that he contextualizes these core points within different interactions + relationships. I think Ive said this before but it's also so rewarding to read an author's works chronologically because you can kind of follow how their frame of mind sharpens/adapts throughout the years and in a way you grow with them, and his first essay (a letter to his nephew) kinda feels like the culmination of that growth laid out with such care. super special

Doppelganger by Naomi Klein

totallyyyyyy consumed + dizzied by this wow I can't believe it took me this long to read Naomi Klein. I think I'd been intimidated by the size of her books + my incorrect assumption that something so research-heavy (bc boy does she research!) will read too dense, but everything here was laid out and tied together so smoothly + accessibly (I feel like I use that word a lot for nonfiction which is probably my subconscious quest to entice ppl to read more nonfiction hehe) This read like partial investigative deep dive into the online world of conspiracy theories/Qanon cesspools + partial mystery novel about her own experience with Naomi Wolf (her 'doppelganger')?? idk it feels weird to relate someone's lived experience to a spectacle like that but it really was like edge of seat level curiosity/uncertainty/etc. just so engrossing and thorough and THRILLING, the epilogue made me gasp!!!

Leslie F*cking Jones by Leslie Jones

my one + only spotify audiobook experience, cut short amid the last chapter bc I ran out of hours and no longer am a spotify premium user so I just read the rest </3 but that turned out to be fun bc I saw what a stark difference it was to listen vs. read this. the audio rules bc Leslie totally goes off script to add anecdotes (one of the reviews was like 'she was NOT reading what was written!!' LMAO so true.. and I love her for that!!) + an emotional depth I don't think could've been sufficiently captured in written form - her laughter and her palpable anger and her literally crying over... such a robust journey! I was an SNL fan basically my whole life til I went to college so I always love stories about it and I really admire how she didn't hold back in her criticisms. I feel like former members (especially those somewhat fresh off the slab in a way) feel like they have to be eternally grateful to their experience when so much of it is so clearly draining and thankless. doubled expectations because she's a woman, tripled because she's a Black woman, and therefore expected to just bend over and take it (her words) but she never does!! she never tries to compromise her own experiences like "this happened... but at least this happened too and they actually were nice in this way-" NO!! she compartmentalizes the good and the bad so distinctly so there's no misunderstanding, and I just really really admire that, the lack of kissing ass in an industry where that's practically what fuels your career/reputation!! she rocks + is such a funny storyteller+ I'm so glad I listened to this

The Sluts by Dennis Cooper

ofc had to squeeze my old man in... I think this was actually the book to first put Cooper on my radar so it was super fulfilling to finally get to it (even tho I devoured it in just 2 days.. a shame bc it was a slay to read this in public) Supremely up my alley with its 2000s internet mystique, the perfect backdrop for a twisted mystery + ruminations of Internet As Performance Art™, the internet as roleplay, what's real + what's just fantasy/fetish, etc etc. so so so good and while still sick and horrifying as his writing is known for, perhaps the most readable for an uninitiated reader of Cooper's works?? even then I'd say this is still for a very particular reader tho idk i can never get a pulse on what a majority of readers are into these days!! I really loved this though and I'm sure it'll be in my top 5 for the year thank u once again for the twisted ride denny !!!

My People Shall Live by Leila Khaled, George Hajjar

feels more like political ethnography than personal memoir. there is some of Leila's backstory and family and personal relationships sprinkled in (her husband is given maybe 5 lines total LOL), but so much of her being is clearly centered around Palestinian resistance + revolution, so recounting her political work within a collective was her truest form of autobiography as that was indeed her life/livelihood. wild to read how intense she was even from childhood, how Down she was to sacrifice things and put herself on the line... literally getting plastic surgery after hijacking a plane in order to be able to get involved in more demonstrations without being recognized like god!!! intense life-altering decisions and it's like she doesn't even bat an eye or show any regrets/wistful 'what if i hard a 'normal' life?'!! that eric andre margaret thatcher meme but instead "do you think leila khaled effectively utilized girl power by hijacking a plane?'' LOL I mean... ! 🤭

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

SILLY + ABSURD!!! a bit of a hike to get there but once I hit it, it was hard to put this down (as is my experience with a lot of classics, I find) I think I really enjoy magical realism rooted in political/cultural landscapes, or maybe I just really like wacky shit (it made me think a bit of Catch-22 which I also had fun with!!) + this didn't disappoint!! truly giggled aloud at some parts, the ridiculousness of it all!!! makes me wanna deep dive into the history of the Soviet Union but I feel like I'll need to clear at least an entire month for that .... will have to plan accordingly 👩‍🔬

Mysterious Skin by Scott Heim

heartbreaking and dark but handled with a lot of care. I guessed the "twist" (which feels indelicate to call it that but I cant think of another word rn) early on but I think that just heightened the slow unraveling of it + made it that much more emotionally grueling to get thru. perhaps that was even the point! I'd been meaning to watch the movie for like over a decade at this point but wanted to read it first so now having read and watched it I'm glad it was now vs. me at 10 or whenever bc dumb tween me likely wouldn't have processed it well enough and the darkness would've overshadowed the journey itself. sometimes it's important to wait I guess is what I'm trying to say!!!

I definitely want to squeeze in another Naomi Klein this year if possible, maybe some Russian/Ukrainian lit. I've focused on Baldwin's nonfiction these past years so I might pick up a fiction of his this month + ofc Cooper wherever I can squeeze him <3

[zukkaart]

Okay LISTEN

I don’t jump on the divorced Zukka bandwagon- not because it’s stupid or invalid but because it makes sense and I hate it because I want them to be domestic and happy until they’re grey and old okay???????

That being said

“Bleach” from 5sos5 gave me a thought-

So we know that cutting your hair is generally seen as a formal act of losing a part of yourself or your nation. Seen very clearly here- Iroh and Zuko cut their hair off when they realize they no longer have a home to return to.

A little more indirectly when zuko shaves everything except his top knot after being banished as a sign of his exile and dishonor but still tied to the fire nation.

And even a little MORE indirectly when we see Azula cut her own hair- not out of solemn realization or dishonor but because she is LITERALLY losing pieces of herself to her madness

All this to say

(Sorry I went on a bit of a tangent there)

And IF Sokka and Zuko DID break up or get a divorce it would be seen as improper for the fire lord to cut his hair over something so “trivial”

After all Ozai didn’t alter his when Ursa left

SO I think Zuko would probably try everything possible to alter his hair without actually cutting it. I.e. braiding, hiding under hoods, etc.

I think he would even go as far as to bleach his hair- especially if they really did get divorced because even though there was no love lost- their lifestyles of being leaders of separate nations just couldn’t cope. He’d start a little at first- just a few strands on the underneath where no one could see done by himself late at night.

Little by little he realizes “cleansing” little pieces of him makes him feel the slightest bit better because the man in the mirror is starting to look less and less like the man who Sokka loved, who loved Sokka…

Obviously he couldn’t bleach all of his hair but imagine Sokka comes to the Fire Nation as his Ambassador and Chief status requires to find Zuko with one stark strip of white cutting through the right side of his hair, he looks closer and finds the smaller- subtler ones in the under layers, some obviously more well done than the others, some faded with time.

Imagine Zuko finally turning to lock eyes with him- but before he can get a word out to explain Sokka reaches up and brushes the light strip that leads into his topknot.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangerously closer than most Ambassadors should be to their hosts.

“An experiment” Zuko says quickly, unsure why he chose those words in particular, but Sokka is a scientist right? He’ll understand.

“Oh,” The playful smile drops from the darker boys features, although Zuko is unsure why.

“Does it bother you?” The words came out more defensively than Zuko meant. Why should he care now anyway?

“Not at all it’s just…” nothing. Everything.

All the words Sokka left unsaid somehow came down to this one white strip of hair, as white as Yues. The truth was that he had hoped Zuko would tell him that he had no idea where it came from, letting Sokka come to the logical conclusion that it was in fact Yue who had blessed him, and he could take it as a sign that he and Zuko were meant to be together. That they could make it work this time if they really tried. Spirits knew that stuff right?

It doesn’t matter now. The hair was fake. For whatever reason Zuko had done it on purpose. It unsettled Sokka in a way he didn’t expect.

“Sorry” He snapped out of his own thoughts. “It just looks so different from the pictures I have, it looks good though.” Sokka offered a timid smile.

Zuko stiffened imperceptibly at that but still responded in kind. “Thank you, I should go. I have others to greet before dinner.” His voice did not waiver but his mind raced. He still has pictures of me? Of us? And he looks at them? Zuko hadn’t been able to do that for months.

“Of course” And when Sokka turned to leave Zuko noticed something. A thin strip of leather braided in to the underside of Sokkas wolf tail, dyed such a deep shade of red that it almost blended in to his hair, but Zuko noticed, because Zuko always noticed.

It was the same strip of leather that Zuko had used to tie his topknot with on his first visit to the South Pole. Deeper in color than his usual choice because he didn’t want to stick out too much, but Sokka had protested anyway, gently pulling it out of his hair and replacing it with one of brilliant blue, a color as deep as the ocean but somehow still as alluring as a familiar set of eyes. At the time, he would have gladly drowned in both.

That was 15 years ago now, when Zuko hadn’t even been brave enough to hold his hand.

Sokka had kept it. All this time. And now he was even wearing it - subtle as it may be. And Sokka was just the same, just the same, same blue eyes, same genuine smile, same gentle brush of fingers against his hair, the exact same Sokka. His Sokka.

Zukos hair was back to its natural color by morning.

[lewhis]

Now I Realize

pairing: louis x reader (she/her)

rating: M

warnings: self-esteem issues

summary: An invitation to a party in LA forces you to revisit a chapter of your life that you thought you'd left behind. You struggle to reconcile who you used to be with who you have become - and are they truly separate entities?

A story of what it is to be young and in love, followed by what it is to be a little older, a little wiser, and still maybe, hypothetically, still a little in love.

***

I hadn’t thought about him in years.

Okay, that wasn’t true. Of course, I thought about him. He was a central fixture of my life for a long-ass time. Not thinking about him would be like not thinking about your stint in high school, or your first apartment, or your first job. I didn’t think about him all the time, but he was bound to come up every now and again, tied to the tail-end of some other memory to which he was inextricably linked. He popped up from time to time, but I wasn’t actively digging him up. Not anymore.

There was a time when I thought about him every day. That’s almost a post-breakup requirement, isn’t it? The pining. The moping. The late-night subtweeting, hoping against hope he might see me on his feed and think, “You know what? I’m a moron. And an asshole. I miss her.” It was all pretty pathetic. Exactly the sort of shit he would have teased me for, had we still been friends. But we weren’t friends. Not anymore. And there was no one around to witness my shame except for me.

But, as I said, that was years ago. I shed my tears, felt my feelings, drank a lot of wine, and I got the fuck over it.

Left to my own devices, I would have continued not thinking about him for many months more to come, until finally his prominence in my memories would fade completely into the background, and I’d be truly free to live my new, Louis-free life – a life which I had just begun to truly accept.

But that didn’t happen. Because Niall Horan is a fucking liar.

September, 2020.

I’d been living in my hometown again since the breakup. Got myself a, eh, decent one-bedroom apartment just outside the city and managed to drum up a more or less steady income doing special effects work for a few local film companies. (All the money that I didn’t spend on a nicer apartment went toward the monthly rental of my studio space.) Most recently, I’d been in talks with some folks putting together the pilot episode of a horror series. They were looking to pitch it to Netflix as soon as possible, and the producers assured me my monster makeup would be the ticket to winning them over.

I wouldn’t lie: the money wasn’t, like, a lot, or anything – certainly nowhere close to what I’d been pulling in my former life – but it was livable. I was making it work. And besides, I was never cut out for all the high-stakes glamour and fame, not even as a tangential player. I didn’t have to worry about behind-the-scenes staff photogs snapping my picture while I was trying to work, and I didn’t have to live with the knowledge that millions of seething, rabid, hormonal fans would later dissect every single frame for signs that I was infringing on their imagined territory. Yikes. My 550 square-foot sweatbox of a studio on the least-scary scary side of town was way better, by comparison.

The me who went to all those places and did all those things was an entirely separate person. Aside from a few reoccurring stress dreams and a modest nest egg in my savings account, I hadn’t come away from that time with anything tangible, anything lasting.

Well, unless you counted Niall.

We didn’t talk all the time. Not even every day, or every week. But I could count on Niall for a meme in my inbox now and again. I’d get a “whats the craic” and a sunglasses emoji at least once a month, and we’d chat for a little while if we had the time. We bantered, mostly. Kept it light – and we never talked about love-lives, as a rule.

I was elbows-deep (literally) in a ten-hour sculpting session for the pilot project when my phone rang. The only calls I ever got in the middle of the day were spam, so I was primed to hit decline out of habit alone, at least until I saw NIALLER splashed across the screen above a backstage selfie of us from Way-Back-When. He’d lost some stupid bet to Liam that night and, as punishment, had to go on stage with his hair (temporarily) dyed bright orange. It looked horrifying. After I’d finished the dye job for him, he said we should get a picture together, “seein’ as we’re both in the ginger club now.” (That, a reference to the fact that, although I frequently liked to change up my hair, I was a decided redhead for most of that tour.)

This – the call itself – was a total breach in protocol; Niall never called. Firstly, because he was always travelling and could never be assed to keep the time differences straight, and he never wanted to wake me up in the middle of the night if it wasn’t an emergency. Second, Niall was more of a FaceTime kind of guy, just in general. He (and others) had tried many times in the past to cajole me into switching to an iPhone, but I was a lifelong Android girlie; it just wasn’t happening. So, we defaulted to texting.

With both of these factors in mind – thinking this was either an emergency call or a butt-dial – I scrambled to wipe a palm full of clay slurry on the front of my overalls. I still wound up with a quarter-sized smear on my phone screen. Oh, well. Wouldn’t be the first time. Quickly, I jabbed at the screen a second time and switched it to speaker mode.

“Niall? Hey, can you hear me?”

“Y/N!” was his response, sung in vibrato. It certainly didn’t sound like he was having an emergency, nor did he sound surprised to be hearing my voice. So, probably not a butt-dial.

“Niall!” I said again. “Um. Just-- Hang on a second—” Holding my hands up like I was scrubbing in for surgery, I maneuvered my way around to a basket full of scrub cloths in the corner.

“Why d’you sound like you’re in a metal bucket?”

“Because I basically am!” I called from across the room. “Sorry, I’m in the studio. Gimme a second to wash up.” My phone was a good six feet away, on a table amidst various sculpting tools. In between that table and the clean-up area were four tables the size of barstools, placed around the room in such a way that a me-sized person could still manage to maneuver around and between them. On each stool were four sculpts at various stages of completion.

(Would it have made more sense to work on one sculpt at a time before beginning a second, a third, or a fourth? Maybe. But this was my process.)

Any response that Niall might have made was lost to the sound of running water gurgling out of the wash sink. The solidified clay coating all sides of my hands soon liquified under the spray and then went spiraling down the drain. I dried my hands on another rag and made my way back to my phone.

“Almost there,” I said, a little strained as I picked around the various delicate obstacles. “It’s a maze in here right now. I’m doing, like, four monster suits for this guy’s Netflix pilot. The script isn’t great, but these masks are gonna be—Shit.” My breath caught in my throat. There was a brief moment of panic when I thought I elbowed a Mothman sculpt in the face, but I’d only managed to catch the cement shoulder of the cast underneath.

Niall let out a laugh, which crackled through the speakers of my weathered phone. “You good?”

“Yeah.” My hands hovered around Mothman’s head, ready to catch him if he toppled over. “Yes? Yes. Okay, yeah! He’s good. I might have overestimated the size of my space when I took this job.” Finally, I made it to the desk with clean hands and no toppled monster heads. I seized my phone, switched off of speaker phone, and brought it to my ear.

“Hi,” I said resolutely, then laughed. “Sorry. You caught me on, like…” –I glanced at the clock— “Hour ten and a half of my workday. Woof. I might be a little delirious.”

Niall, in his jolly way, responded with another laugh. “You’re crazy, woman. Sounds like you’ve earned a break, then, yeah? Got a second to chat?”

Now that my momentum had been disrupted, I could feel how well and truly drained I was. My back ached from stooping over the sculpts. My head was fuzzy as if I’d just sat for the SAT, and there was an ominous tingling sensation in my right wrist that said I’d probably overdone it on all the fine detail work. I made a mental note to sleep with my wrist brace on that night.

“Yeah, I think I’m done for the day.” I pulled a folding chair out from under the desk and slumped into it. “What’s up? Is everything okay? I was surprised to see your call.”

“It’s all good,” he assured me. “Just didn’t feel like bangin’ out a text. You’ll be gettin’ an invite in the mail, anyway, but I wanted to invite ya personally.”

“An invite for what?”

“I’m havin’ a party!” I could hear his smile over the phone. “For my birthday. Also, just ‘cause parties are awesome. You in?”

I hated myself at that moment because my mind only went to one place. I knew instantly that Niall had heard my hesitation, and he knew the cause.

“Louis won’t be there.” He said it casually. Not a bribe or a placation, just a fact. “Talked to him already. He’s got something goin’ in San Diego that same night.”

“Oh, I see. So, I’m getting the invite because he won’t be there. Wow, Niall. I thought I got you in the divorce.”

“Sorry, love. Gotta split custody.” He cracked a laugh. “And don’t gimme none of that. You would’a gotten an invite no matter what. Just, now you’ve got no excuse not to come!”

He had me there. Niall might not seem it, but he was always an organized guy. Good at planning things. As of that phone call, I’d have over a month to get my shit together and carve out a few days to fly cross-country for his party. Even with the upcoming pilot project, I knew I’d be able to swing it.

“Alright, fine,” I said, putting on airs like he was really twisting my arm. In reality, I was smiling. “Where’s the party at?”

“My place in LA. Got a load of people comin’. There’s gonna be food, music, a ton of drinkin’, all that shite. And I’ve got extra rooms, so you can stay with me!”

I could already feel a bit of that old excitement coming back. The kind of giddiness that my old self used to feel when there was some big red-carpet event on the horizon. Not that a birthday party at Niall’s (albeit enormous) house was anything overly glamorous, but it was the closest I’d been to that world since I was unceremoniously booted out. It’d be fun, I thought, to dip my toes back in for a few days.

We talked for another thirty minutes. Niall asked for some pics of the sculpting I’d done today. He name-dropped a few other people on the guest list (none of The Lads, he told me [and it was always said that way, with the implied proper nouns – The Lads] would be able to make the party.) I asked if he’d been working on any new music lately, and if he’d ever fixed the warped neck of his favorite acoustic guitar. Then, we fell into the usual banter and jokes until, finally, it was time to hang up.

“I’m really glad you’re gonna be there, Y/N.” It was said so sincerely, and I felt my chest tighten with affection for my friend. Never once – not before, not then, nor any moment since – did I think that Niall harbored anything but completely platonic affection for me, and that was perfectly alright; it was a mutual feeling.

“Me too, Niall. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Cheers.”

As I pulled the phone away from my ear to end the call, that picture of Niall with his stupid orange hair and me, with orange dye staining the very same hand that was raised in a peace sign, flashed up on the screen again. It stayed for a moment before defaulting to my home screen. Without questioning myself, I pulled up Niall’s contact info, then tapped his profile photo. It expanded to full size, even larger than it had been on the call screen.

It had been a long time since I actually looked at that picture. We were younger, then – God, how had I not realized at the time how young I was? – and it was obvious that we were tired. That show would’ve been during the middle of the tour, when most of the shows felt like fever dreams interspersed between long stints on the tour buses or – if we were lucky – crammed into airplane seats. We were stressed – me, because I had to get back to makeup if there was any hope of their opener being on time; Niall, because, well, duh, it was his show, and he was scheduled for a phone interview right before they went on. Despite all that – and maybe because we were so young and so full of an energy that I could no longer hope to fathom – despite all the stress and the shit, we had fun during those days.

Somewhere between that selfie and that present moment in my sweaty little studio, I’d gotten older. Old enough to have sympathy for that girl in the picture who thought that just because all her friends were pop stars and she was just the help, she mattered less, somehow.

And we were friends, back then. All of us. Me and Liam would bond over video games. Harry would let me raid his closet or style his hair and we’d talk for ages, without self-consciousness. Zayn and I liked to hide out on the bus or in someone’s hotel room, and we’d spend a few hours in almost total silence except for the few words it took to ask the other person to pass the drawing pencils, or to look over a sketch. I didn’t actually see a lot of Niall, back then. Not one-on-one. His girlfriend (now his ex; and in many ways, she was my ex, too) was never happy unless one or both of us gave her our complete, undivided attention. Niall and I didn’t truly start to bond until After (again, always a proper noun), because it was only After that we realized we could bond over a truly shared experience.

Only one person left off that mental rollcall (well, two, really.) I felt myself wanting to slam the gate shut, as I had so many times before. No more memory lane today! Road’s closed! Because again, I didn’t think about him anymore, remember? But I looked back down at that very young, very happy, very weary girl in the photo, and I realized that, for her sake, I shouldn’t try to block those memories out. Because she was me. I was her. Try as I might to draw a line between the two, there was no “this life” and “old life.” There was no pretending that those hard, scary times had never happened. And there was no point, either, in acting like those hard, scary times hadn’t come with more than their fair share of happy times, too.

And not just happy: the happiest.

Is that why I felt that rock in my gut every time I started to think about Way-Back-When? Was I afraid, somewhere deep down inside, even though I was a grown woman now, far removed from that very young, very scared girl that I’d been then – was I afraid that the happiest days of my life had already come and gone?

Yes, I was. I knew that I was. I could feel that fear settling into my toes and oozing up my spine.

Because no matter how many happy memories I had in my head, no matter how many days I spent feeling so grateful that I’d found people who knew me and loved me and wanted me to stick around—where was I now?

We were friends, back then. All of us. But we weren’t anymore.

⬇️ read the rest on ao3! ⬇️

[orngejce]

Hola party people, tis I, Mon. Below the cut is Dylan's bio, keep in mind she's my brain child and i'm still working out some minor kinks but am very very excited to write her and get back into group writing with everyone here! feel free to message me here or on discord for plots pls & thx bye.

welcome to marina, DYLAN WILCOTS ( cisfemale, she/her ) ! they are a/n 23 year old who has lived on the island for 23 YEARS. word on the street is they’re currently living in LOCKE ROW and works as a WAITRESS. everyone also says they look a lot like MEG DONNELLY. what do you think? —mon, 29, she/her, est

name: DYLAN LORETTA WILCOTS dob: AUGUST 13th, 2000 residence: LOCKE ROWE sexuality: BISEXUAL occupation: WAITRESS, SUNNYSIDE DINER character board

TLDR; Basically, Dylan is the disgraced princess of the Wilcots family, once upon a time she was a spoiled brat, and how she's just a... trailer trash brat. She's sweet and affectionate and falls in love with everyone, she's a two-legged golden retriever with a bad habit of making things about her.

FAMILY BACKGROUND

Dylan Loretta Wilcots was born midday on one of the hottest days of the year, so hot that her mother, Loretta Wilcots, used to swear she’d given birth to the literal sun that day, something that stuck. It was a silly thing she always told her when she was a girl, that Dylan was nothing but sunshine and love, the one thing that brightened up the gloom and doom of her mother’s days. But it was just sweet girlhood memories, a sentiment that Dylan hadn’t heard about herself since her mother passed when she was ten years old, leaving her alone with her detached and callous father, and brand-new stepmother just a few months after they’d put her mother in the ground.

Gregory, daddy Greg, hadn’t planned on having Dylan when he did, in fact he hadn’t planned on marrying Loretta, she was meant to be a small town girlfriend, someone he would get to forget about once he graduated and got to go off at college. So, when she ended up pregnant with little Dylan, he was less than pleased, even less than when it caused him to give up his dreams of getting out of Marina, his dreams of being something else, something bigger. Instead, he was stuck with an unwanted child, and doing what his father had always wanted, following in his footsteps and keeping up with the family’s canning business. Wilcot Cannery stocked most of the grocery stores on Marina Island, by keeping everything in house it was a business that was always booming, and Gregory quickly fell in line and became the mirror image of his father after his passing.

Gregory always had a resentment towards Dylan, which bred Dylan’s own resentment back, plus his quick finding of a new mommy dearest for her didn’t help that. Dylan quickly filled the shoes of the spoiled-entitled brat, as sweet as sugar on the outside, but when she didn’t get her way she made it known, she spit and she cried and she screamed and made her father’s life as difficult as she possibly could, he didn’t deserve anything else in her eyes, he never loved her mother, never loved her, so why should she go out of her way to plead for it. No instead she pleaded for the tangible things he would shove in her face to get her out of his hair, whatever toy she wanted, whatever clothes she wanted, if Dylan whined, Dylan won.

It stayed like that for years, Dylan promised good behavior and pretty smiles as long as her dad gave her anything she asked for, and it worked, for years it worked until one year her dad asked for something she just couldn’t give to him. The Wilcots’ typically picked who they’d let into the family, pretty girls or pretty boys who didn’t care to argue anything, who would look on in the paper, and when Dylan was 18 her father wanted her to marry Ezra Jaymes, a boy whose father owned a big farm out on Prospect Hill. A business deal, a daughter for a son, a way to expand and put even more money in the Wilcots’ pockets. Dylan said no, and when she continued to say no her father slowly cut her off. First, he closed her banking cards, then he closed out the credit cards, and then finally he had the sheriff show up to escort her out of her home. She was 18 after all, and if he didn’t want her on his property there wasn’t anything they were able to do, even as she was crying for her daddy to let her stay. That was five years ago now, and while she still sees her father from time to time, she’s no longer able to whine her way to what she wants, now she was the disgraced Wilcot, and her younger half-siblings were her dad’s new pretty paper perfect dolls.

PRSENTLY

These days Dylan spends most of her time working, or at least pretending to work, at the diner flirting with the customers that come in or helping herself to the various freshly baked pies they serve daily. When she isn’t at Sunnyside she’s either roaming around downtown, trying to find the new high in her life, something or someone she can whine to fill the void her father left, someone who looked at her and saw the sun like her mom always had, or she’s got her feet propped up on the creaky swing she set up on the porch of her powder blue trailer in Locke Row, feeding the various strays that wander up to her home when she forgets to take her trash off the porch.

PERSONALITY

Dylan is bubbly. She’s a bubbly, giddy, giggly mess of a girl who means well and is good natured but can come off entirely shallow and self-absorbed. She cares about people deeply, prides herself on being an empath, but finds herself babbling about herself more than nodding in agreement when speaking to people. She’s a hopeless romantic, always searching for that fluttery feeling her mom used to tell her that she felt with her father, though she’s not sure how that was possible at all but is sure she herself will be able to find it, after all she fell in love at the drop of the hat. A pretty girl with round cheeks, a handsome boy with pearly whites, really a whisper of a compliment was enough to do her in, a serial dater. When she isn’t bubbly, she’s morose, a modern-day Eeyore, where anything and everything that can go wrong will, and she lets it be shown on her face, she’s never been very good at hiding her emotions.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

JILTED EX; Dylan ended things abruptly with them, no rhyme or reason to it, one day they were happy and planning future dates, then the next they got a cryptic text from Dylan stating it was over.

UNLIKELY FRIEND; the black cat to her golden retriever, they shouldn't work but they do, in fact they work so much that they can be darn right inseparable at times, even when Dylan is being overly affectionate and getting on their last nerves.

GIANT CRUSH; Dylan gets crushes on everyone, in fact no one takes her flrting seriously since there isn't a single person left in town that Dylan hasn't at least batted her eyelashes at once, but for some reason this person is always on her mind, the one she can't shake, the one who could be the one, if you wanted to get lame about it.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I don't think Alina's romantic feelings for the Darkling are gone and entirely replaced by hatred. As we know, the tether only works if she also thinks about the Darkling, which she often does, even visibly in her sleep, but refuses to admit. If it was pure hate/worry about how dangerous he was to Ravka, well she'd have no problem admitting that she often thinks of him as a result, since that would make complete sense. If it was hate, she wouldn't have fallen for Bagrah in episode 5 either. Alina is actually deeply hurt because Alexander did it to her in season 1. Maybe even some form of trauma, like suggests the scene where she loses control of her powers in the Fold. Yet she still thinks about him often, and I think the reason she looks so angry at that simple fact is because she doesn't think about him the way she logically should. after her) think about it. That is to say in hate/worry mode in relation to his dangerousness for Ravka, as I said. There's also all this tension that always crackles between them. Can't make me believe she wasn't actually tempted to kiss him in episode 5.

I also think that somehow she missed Alexander, which may also partly explain why she seems to be more and more like him in her movements or the way she speaks. (Aside from the fact that they're soulmates/mirror of each other/Alina a younger version of the Darkling, obviously) It's like she's looking somewhere to make up for her absence subconsciously. (I've seen this many times in books. The love interest of the heroine who disappears, and whom she loves without being aware of it, but who copies her behavior in her absence in order to compensate for a kind of emptiness)

Even when the Darkling dies, it is clear that Alina was not really satisfied. She had a look of sadness in her eyes, and it was only Nina's call that made her turn away from Alexander's body. She did not turn away from herself. Not to mention that she also granted his wish to leave nothing of him behind.

The fact that there is less compassion is explained by the way of the arc of corruption (that their story is not finished yet) and the impact that such a betrayal had on Alina. She hides emotions that she would like to have disappeared under anger. Alina did not hate Alexander as soon as he put the collar on her. It's wrong. We can clearly see him in the tent, after he told her to make him her villain, we can clearly see that she hesitates to call him back to her. In the fight inside the Fold, before Mal lunges at the Darkling, Alina looks thoughtful after Alexander tells her he's out to save their people. She never completely cut ties. But the months of separations have surely strengthened her defenses against the pain she must have felt since this betrayal. She took the time to actually make him the villain of her story to bury her feelings.

Sorry, but she makes it clear that she imagined a future with him. A life. This kind of stuff doesn't just go away overnight. Betrayal or not. The fact that she got on with Mal so quickly this season reminds me of thinking about relationships after a breakup. Literally, the first time she talks openly about her love for Mal is in front of Alexander, as if to make him jealous.

I always assume that if (in a fiction) you love someone who is supposed to be your great love in the story, well you don't imagine so quickly, a few months like Alina did with Alexander, build a life with someone else. Especially when (along with the fact that Mal is supposed to be her big love in the sequel), well Alina is supposed to have been very much in love with Mal since childhood and have known him for a longer time. However, she is ready in a few months to build a life with Alexander. She tells him herself. If he had told her the truth, maybe they would be together as equals. It literally implies that she would have chosen him.

In all of this, Mal just looks like a childhood crush she's falling back on after a rocky breakup. Not to a great love.

This was my LONG rambling.

All of this ☝️☝️☝️!! I couldn't have said it better myself and think you are right about all of it. Also its worth adding that during that separation were as you said she spent the time building up Aleks as her villain, she believed he was dead, or at least despite still being able to sense him, she keeps telling herself he is dead. So when she is trying to deal with all her anger and hurt and betrayal she needs to put that somewhere and so it makes sense that she puts it on Aleks and builds up this new image of him because he isn't there to act or say something that is going to contradict this new image she has created of him, if that makes sense. So when he does show up again she has to fight to keep this image of him, this villain, which is why when he does anything that might remind her of the man she knew and trusted and felt something for she literally turns her head away and pushes her feelings down again.

[panigamermauser]

Cut stuff thoughts part3

Tav vs Dark Urge. Plus Minsc and Orin stuff.

I already ranted how hollow and non-existent Tav feels compared to Dark Urge or Companion Origins playtrough.

Companions and Durge all have deep story ties to main plot. Tav has zero anything. Like, I get the concept of Tav as blank self-insert, but... it's D&D, and any half-decent DM will find a way to include your backstory in the campaign. I know I am spoiled by my amazing DM who has been DMing since 80s. Still, very few DMs will not use their players' backstories against them! And game writers are our DM in this case.

Yes, you can say you are a [Baldurian] on some occasions, but it never amounts to anything in the game. 

Your character was gone for a month or so, and suddenly they are clueless about city, and not a single soul knows you?

Amnesiac Shadowheart has some things to say about locations. She has graffiti on the wall to mark her existence in the city. Has a quest. 

Astarion comments a lot about locations. Has a quest. 

Karlach was gone for 10+ years. People still remember her. And she is tied with the main story. 

Gale is not a Baldurian, but he still knows a lot about the city and has exclusive content there. 

Jaheira and Minsc has always been part of the city, as they should. 

Wyll is Duke's son, with all that it means for the plot.

Hermit druid of Halsin had cut content that tied him to city plot. It was cut, but at least it was planned, you know? And there's still a chance they will put it back in.

Lae, who is a literal fucking alien,  has more content the city than Tav who supposedly lived there all their lives and was gone for about a month only.

It was said in act1 that it is about ten days of travel between Grove and Baldur's gate in normal circumstances. So I added all the long rests I had to it. It ended up being barely over a month for me.

So why could not Tav (at least the one who consistently chose Baldurian dialogue options) start with a map with all points of interest already marked, at least? They surely would know every major location and at least some stores instead of 'discovering' them by stumbling there. Why no one knows Bard/Performer Tav? Or Folk Hero Tav? Or Noble Tav? Or even criminal Tavs?

We have several quests both with cops and criminal organizations for Criminal to be mentioned.

There are taverns and a music shop where Bard Tav could have gotten 'hey I heard you perform before'.

Noble Tavs could have gotten 'an honor to serve someone of your family' from vendors in Lower City.

There could be banter for Folk Hero with Gur or Hag victims or even Harpers.

Clerics and Paladins Tavs could be recognized in churches.

Even non-Baldurian/Outlander/Hermit Tav could have some background banter with opinions on being in major city.

And yet the best you can get is a generic inspiration point you share with your companions who already have more content than you?

You can kill every single companion on sight, and the game will still care more about them than Tav. They are/were an objective part of the world even if the PC never talked to them.

Even Durge still existed in the world of Tav. You can find their corpse in Orin's bedroom. so everything in Durge's backstory objectively happened. They existed and mattered!

But if you do not play Tav - there's simply no Tav in game's world. And never were. Tbh at this point I want to make Astarion's, Wyll's and Durge's Guardian to be Wysteria. Just so she could exist in the world and be remembered by game characters. Like, they could see a sexy bard perfown and think 'WOULD' at least once.

But apparently Tav was not meant to exist originally. So it explains it.

I wonder what made them decide to implement castrated Durge character as a separate person. I just want to know why, that's all. It is too late to change it now anyways.

I wish they either committed to Tav and Durge being different people and added proper unique content only Tav will see. Or just not bothered with Tav at all. I hate half-assed approach.

If they wanted to avoid spoilers of Durge being Bhaalspawn during early access... Why? First two games had Bhaalspawn main char. Literally no one would be surprised it's Bhaalspawn again. It's the whole fucking THEME of the series.

Also, the second they said on stream that Durge suffers from severe case of homicidal ideations, literally everyone who knew a single thing about Baldur Gates games said 'and here's our Bhaalspawn'. So what was the point in secrecy?

I just want to know _why_ at this point. Hope writers can explain what they were thinking with making worse Durge as a separate char.

And it would make so much more sense that they planned Minsc to be in Act1 too because of it. Like, imagine Minsc comforting Durge. Being an angel to Butler's demon. 

Butler pushes you to commit crimes. Minsc is there going 'Resist! I used to have a friend just like you. It can be done!' That would have been so good!

But ofc it all would be pointless for Tav, who for all gameplay intends and purposes never existed in the world. So I get why they changed it.

And it's a shame. Having Minsc since Act1 would have been wonderful💖

Same goes for Orin's cut content. Imagine her hounding you since act 1. Because she realises she screwed up and her Bhaalsib is still alive.

Also, her vs gith'yanki would have been an amazing story arc overall. Like, Big Bad Three control an illithid elder brain. Which does make gith'yanki their enemies by default.

And it would be even better for players who keep Lae alive (or play gith'Tav!). Like, it would make kidnapping Lae in Act3 so personal! And the amount of psychological torture she could dish out to Lae/gith'Tav by tadpoling the dragon! Would have been so delicious!

Please put this part back in! 🙏

[autumnworld19]

Autumn!!!! That ask you sent me????? I literally cannot stop thinking about it!!! The fact he was falling in love with her while she was just trying to survive by seducing the (at the time) least threatening man she's met to give her a sense of protection. I love!!!!!! that she is finally able to run away and thinks she is able to start a new in a small village in a hidden valley. but in the months following she realises she hasn't bled and her dresses are getting tighter around her stomach and she wakes in the night to release her stomach. and it just dawns on her that she's pregnant. I think it would be so difficult for her, she wants to forget that terrible time and the fear and yes even the father of her baby (she's got a big storm coming). I think the midwives would help her knowing her history and thinking she was forced and I think she would not want to admit she gave herself freely to him. and when the babies come, the three of them, and they look exactly like their father she would just break down into tears, she was hoping the baby (now babies) would look like her as a way of forgetting it all or pretending it never happened. but she of course falls in love with her little babies. years past and the boys are still young when the town is attacked, and a massive red-headed warrior is breaking down her door. she won't go quietly. she tries to fight him when her littlest triplet is still sitting near the door and he just looks up at this massive fur-covered beast of a man. of course, she gets knocked out. and the warrior just looks down at this lady with these three boys around her and he is instantly aware of who she is, he's been looking for her for years now. he's just carrying her away over one shoulder and the three boys in his other arm. the boys love him. he sounds funny, has hair like they do and tells grand stories. she wakes up in his tent to the sounds of her kids laughing at this huge man doing shadow puppets. she, of course, freaks out and is throwing her boys behind her while holding a knife towards him. she doesn't really recognise him, he's bigger, gruffer looking, and has more hair on his head and face. he does kind of remind her of the sweet boy she once knew but this man is rough, mean and crude. but she slowly recognises him and just drops the knife.

Please!!!!!!!! tell me how it continues!!!!!!!!! I wanna hear what you think would happen next <3 <3

lots of love!!!!!! mae xx

OH MY GOD! AS WERID AS THIS SOUNDS THIS IS THE FIRST TIME SOMEONE SENT ME A ASK. IM SO EXCITEDD!!!! THANK YOU!!! I can see their first encounter happening because she snuck onto the military base to steal food, then she gets caught by him. as he begins to pull out his sword He tells her something along the lines “you must not value your hands” (the punishment for stealing is getting your hands cut off. Because you can’t steal if you don’t have hands 😅) Then at the last minute to sedate him she tells him how she purposely let herself get caught so she can meet Him, and he’s like what the fuck are you talking about. She goes on rant how she saw him and is sexually interested in him etc etc. And you can guess from there what happens 😏. He recognized her immediately. I mean how couldn’t he? She was all he could think about, she was became his thoughts in the day and she was his dreams during the night. Okay I mentioned this in the last ask I sent but you probably didn’t know what it said due to autocorrect :/ When she meets up with after few years she dosen’t recognize him because he was wearing those metal helmet. I’ll send you a picture later 😌

While she was away playing mother he was flying through the ranks. I don’t know how to explain but he once was a unmotivated and hopeless young man it didn’t matter to him if he was gone the next day, that’s mainly the reason why he joined. He just wanted some natural disaster to sweep him away, but after y/n, she became his anchor. She’s what ties him to the earth. I can imagine him worried that she got scared and ran away due to the battle. So he dosen’t know or believe that she was running away from him. All that’s important is that she out there scared and lost and she needs protecting, especially since there’s a possibility so could be carrying his child. This was confirmed when traveling through the continent and drinking away at a pub, when he overhears a about this “witch” down at the peninsula who not only gave birth to one of those red hairs, but three at the same time (let’s pretend that red hair is rarer that it’s usually is). Let’s just say that fisherman got a physical lesson to not gossip ever again.After knocking her out, he carries her to his own personal land that was gifted to him from his king for all the work he’s done for the kingdom (supposedly claiming regions under the name of the king, but in reality he went to places to search for the reader and when he didn’t find her he was like “while I’m here…”). I can imagine how awkward he would be around the boys, like scratching the back of his neck awkward. After what seemed to be forever they stop crying after pure exhaustion. They see this stranger as their enemy after he hit mama and her in a deep deep sleep. But suddenly he offered them a big fat juicy slug of a meat that he calls buffalo, and after that he dosen’t seem that bad. And starts sharing all types of meat with them, like goat, cow, deer and other big animals they never seen or heard of! Then he starts to show off his weapons, because suddenly when he does cool tricks with them they aren’t so scary. And I love that fact he does shadow puppets! He tried to make up stories for them and do funny voices (even high pitched ones but they have to swear they that they won’t anyone). When it becomes clear he isn’t going to hurt them, especially when they see him dote on their mama (she’s still a sleep). And the other warriors aren’t so bad either! They all come around the fire to eat while tell stories. Talk about how they lost their teeth’s or limbs, the scars ranging from their legs to their faces. Or they ask each questions like “what animal would you like to be reborn to”, for scary men they talk about the most upbeat stuff. When asked him he said he wanted to be the most least intimidating and smallest furry creature ever like rabbit or a cat, everyone’s looking at this big beefy 6ft tall man with big ole hands that can easily break someone’s back like: 👁️ 👄 👁️. But quickly changes his answer when it occurs to him that he can’t protect y/n in such a fragile state, he reasoned she wouldn’t have problem loving a bear when she fell in love with him and despite knowing what he looks like. The trip there was fun, for the boys at least. They got to ride on horses, try catch fishes (emphasize on try) while their father just casually catches fish with his bare hands, taking baths in lakes, and eating meat. Back at home they don’t usually eat meat, they only had sheep, chickens and cows and used them for clothing, milking and sometimes as food. It wasn’t until they finally settled into his home on his land that she finally wakes up. She stumbles out of this grand home onto the backyard when she hears the laughter of her sons, she sees this huge bear of a man pulling one of her sons into the air by his leg, her heart just drops. And starts yelling and when their father goes up to comfort her coincidentally she throws up on him and then pasts out again. I’ll send another pt 2 it’s wasn’t until I was about to answer your questions that suddenly I can’t type anymore 😅. Hoped you liked it :))))

[queenofthedisneyverse]

"what did...how did you" pamamilo/hermanabel drabble - Angst?

"thank you for coming, as you can see my husband isn't here" the woman named quickly Adella passed around the room

Camilo and Mirabel were invited to her house for something very important, they just didn't know what was that important,

"uh yes um, is there something you need us for?" Mirabel adjusted her glasses

"well yes, you see erm...As you know we have a daughter named Sofia" she pointed over to the 5-month-old on the couch.

"uh yeah, do you need us to watch her?" he questioned

"yes yes we do but um didn't you guys say you would take care of children more personally if needed?"

"yes?" Mirabel wasn't quite sure of the situation but she does know what was about to happen

"look me and my husband didn't plan on having her, so I was thinking maybe you guys could take her in?" Adella put on the best smile she could for the current situation but it was more of a "we don't want this child please take her...please?" smile

Mira and Cami looked at each other in pure shock and confusion. Was she really asking two 14 yr olds to PERSONALLY take care of a child, a BABY?

"Excuse us for one moment" Camilo pulled Mirabel by the arm to the front porch of the house

"is she seriously asking us to take care of her child?" she was so confused, she's a grown woman isn't she? she should be able to take care of her right?

"I guess, we do it all the time" hehe tried to understand but the wires still weren't connecting in his head

"no Camilo she wants us to literally take her child and raise her as our own" Mira cautioned

"Mira we already do this with Antonio what's the prob- ooooh" it hit him, the madrigals are used to having Antonio around what they're not used to is a random child that's always around with no view of their actual parent.

"well if we can hi-" he was cut off by Mira putting her hand over his mouth. She took a note book and pencil out of her orange bag and gave it to Camilo. The only reason they actually have secrets is by writing things down in notebooks. if it weren't for that Dolores would have told alma basically about everything years ago.

"shh" she whispered

Camilo sat down and started writing.

Mira half of the family ignores us anyway we can hide this child and we can do it with casita's help. when it's the end of the day we take a shortcut home where no one sees us and have casita put the baby in my room where she can play while we have dinner.

Mira looked at the paper and smiled, the she took it and wrote

we can do it!

They sat on the porch for a few minutes writing more stuff down, one they were they walked back inside the house.

"yeah sorry Ms. Gomez we can't do that but we'll be happy to babysit" Camilo handed the lady a piece of paper that said-

Ms. Gomez we are happy to be fortunate enough to take care your Sofia, the reason you are reading this is because we can not say these things out loud. Please pack everything she needs so we can be on our way. Thank you!

"oh yes thank you, that'll be just fine!" Adella squealed. She ran upstairs grabbing everything that belonged to Sofia making sure not to forget anything that might be important

"thank you for this!" Adella whispered giving Mirabel toys, blankets, and diapers. Mirabel nodded with a sympathetic smile. After that, she gave Sofia to Camilo

-

Antonio was sitting with his siblings watching clouds go by and an idea popped into his head

<"let's paint casita!"> he thought

So he looked up but remembered that his Hermana and pama left to go to a friend's house. So Instead of Antonio waiting for them, he asked the next "best" grownup. He sat up looked around and saw Pepa talking to some friends. Antonio got off the ground and ran up to her tugging her dress.

"ti-mama can me and my friends paint casita?" he asked shyly

"uh sure whatever you want Antonio" she barely even raised Antonio so why would she listen to him.

"yes!" Antonio whispered to himself

Tonito ran back to his siblings and told them the plan, they weren't quite sure what to do since Camilo and Mirabel told them to stay in the corn fields.

"maybe we should wait for them to come back?" Alejandra asked

"hmm *gasp* It can be a surprise for them!" he bounced happily

-

It was about 5 pm when Camilo and mira went to Ms. Gomez's house. they left for only 10 minutes 10 goshdarn MINUTES. And somehow that was enough time for 30+ children to grab LARGE buckets of paint and nearly paint the whole casita.

"what did...how did you?" Alma was angry, no she furious, no she pissed, no SHE WAS ABOVE ALL THESE WORDS. Casita was covered in various hand prints and brush strokes that varied in color.

"What possessed you to do this?" Alma was pure rage at this point and was about the give Antonio the spanking of his life

"Pepa said we could do it" Antonio spoke in a small tone stepping back.

-

Mirabel and Camilo were confused,

"where did the kids go?" Mirabel stood up on her tippy toes looking into the corn fields hoping that maybe they were just hiding or playing in there.

"we told them to stay here, didn't we?" Camilo looked around twisting and turning his head so fast that he could get whiplash but didn't

before they could do anything else they hear alma shout Pepa's name. They looked back to see a raging Alma pulling an uncomfortable and in pain Antonio. She was gripping his hand too hard. Pepa jumped hearing Alma in that tone,

'y-yes mama?" pepa stuttered.

"Why on earth did you tell him he could paint casita?" she barked

"w-what" Pepa clearly didn't know what she was talking about so Alma grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to casita.

Cami and Mira knew something was wrong and followed them. And when I tell you they were shocked they were SHOCKED. how was there paint dripping from the ceiling?

Camilo saw the other kids in the house and the fear they had on their faces. this wasn't going to go well

"I didn't tell him to do this" Pepa protested

"yes she did, when...when you were talking with your friends i-i asked you" Antonio tried to get his words out but he was so scared.

"then why don't I remember thi-" Pepa was cut off by Isabela who had followed them as well

"oh my god" Isabela had a look of pure disgust on her face at the sight of the house

<'oh great, here she comes"> Mirabel thought in annoyance.

"This is fine...this is fine all we have to do is clean it up that's all" Camilo tried to assure

"first of all who is "we" "? Isabela asked

"and this is not fine look at this place" Alma seethed

"to be fair Pepa did tell him he could do it" Mirabel chimed in

"No I did not" Pepa yelled

"then why would he say something like that, Antonio doesn't lie" Camilo yelled back

"Enough, Every single one of you will clean this up this instant! and after that, I'm telling all of your parents what you have done" Alma sneered

"what? don't punish them for something they didn't know was wrong. where's the logic in that?" Camilo Protested. in no way, shape, or form were HIS children going to be punished for something they didn't know was wrong.

"Camilo, Mirabel this does not concern you go back into town" Alma snapped back

"no this does concern us, we're not gonna watch you punish them for a stupid reason. If anything you should punish Pepa for letting them do this" oh Mirabel was hot mad, nobody was going to punish her hermanos y hermanas ever.

"Mirabel don't make me repeat myself," Alma said with anger in her toe

"no don't make me repeat MYSELF you are NOT going to punish them In my presence or EVER" Mirabel was about the throw hands any second now with alma in her face.

"Stop stop please I don't want you guys fighting" Antonio ran up to Mirabel clinging to her legs crying.

"Antonio come here NOW" Alma grabbed Antonio to Pepa and handed him to Pepa

"Pepa I trust that you will show him what happens when people lie," she said with pure ice and fury in her voice

"NO" Camilo shouted

"Excuse me" was her grandson really saying no to her and yelling.

"I won't let you" he snatched Antonio back. "if you're going to punish anybody punish me,-" Camilo begged

"or me I wasn't watching them at the moment" Mirabel pleaded walking closer to alma

"who do you think-" Alma was about to say something else but Julieta walked in

"what is going on?" she asked looking around at the painted walls, stairs, floors, and ceiling.

"Julieta you better teach your daughter to behave" alma barked

"what?" she asked

"Alright look, Abuela I'm sorry I didn't mean to shout. We will help clean this up just don't hurt Antonio ok? Mirabel despised these words but she had to say something in order to calm everyone down

-

Bruno in the walls;

"oh this is something you watch from a distance"

-

"hmph, once this is all cleaned I'm going to have a talk with all of you" Alma looked at everyone in anger and disgust then walked upstairs.

"Casita take Sofia up to my room, play with her there" Camilo whispered putting the baby down on the tiles. Casita quietly moved her away so that no one would notice.

while cleaning Antonio stayed near Camilo and Mirabel trying to stay far away from Pepa. Paint is hard to clean especially the kind that dries quickly. So it had to take everybody (not including senorita perfecta because she doesn't deserve to - alma)

"I'm sorry cami, I didn't mean to get everybody in trouble," Antonio said sadly.

"it's ok tonito, I know you didn't mean anything by it" Mirabel whispered back reassuringly

<"maybe if she didn't drink 3 bottles of wine every night she would remember what people say to her"> Camilo thought angrily

time skip

Camilo's room -

"ok, Antonio you can open your eyes now!" Camilo told casita to hide Sofia right before Antonio walked inside so it could be a surprise that Sofia was there.

"oh, hi Sofia! are we having a sleepover? Antonio asked out of confusion

"well yes but she's your in-home sister now," he says putting Sofia down in front of Antonio.

"Really, she can stay with us?" Antonio was so Excited, that he can finally live with one of his siblings.

"yeah, but we have to keep this a secret ok? this only between us three" Mirabel cautioned

"ok, Hi Sofia I want you to know that I'm in-home your big brother now and that I will always be here for you," Antonio said proudly

Sofia clapped her hands in reply.

"Sofia I'm gonna sing to you, feed you, hug you, love, and gonna do everything to make you happy!" Antonio hugged Sofia while she played with his hair

Camilo smiled to himself

<" I'm so proud" > he thought.

For the rest of the night, the Trio played with Sofia until she fell asleep which is also when Antonio fell asleep.

"Camilo what are we gonna do for Sofia's bed?" Mirabel asked

"um you go to sleep first while I watch Sofia then you do the same for me?

"ok" she replied

-

IDK why I was so angry writing this, I guess that helps with writing Anyway hope you guys enjoyed it!

@gamerbearmira I know you'll like this!

[itseemedlikefun]

The Magic Colour Theory of the MCU

Magic all throughout the MCU has been shown through a multitude of different colours, ones I believe correlate to different infinity stones. Think about it.

Dr Strange and the type of magic he uses are heavily tied to the soul and self-alignment, as such the magic is orange like the soul stone. This is also why his magic is green when he uses the time stone. This brings up the question, why is Loki’s magic green?

No, Loki does not have the secret ability to shift time, yet (TVA?) but he is skilled in enchanting people, creating illusions, and a sort of spacial anomaly which allows him to store small objects like daggers. All of this can’t be tied back to one infinity stone, but rather two. Coincidentally(?), it is the only two infinity stones he had used himself; the mind stone and the space stone. Blue and yellow which combine to make green. He is not the only one to use the mind stone, however.

Wanda, the most obvious of the three. Her chaos magic said to literally shift reality to her liking is clearly derived to the reality stone, a stone just as deep red and strange as her own magic. The thing is, she also uses magic from the mind stone as seen when she manipulates peoples mind, so why isn’t her magic ever yellow like how Dr Strange’s turns green. Well, it may be that magic directly derived from the mind stone isn’t yellow, or not always at least.

Look at Vision. Well he’s not exactly a magic user he does use the mind stone for many of his abilities. At first I thought that the magic of the mind stone highly concentrated could turn red as shown through various comics that depicted Vision’s laser as red. It is still a plausible theory, but another would be that when the mind stone is influenced by another magic it will take on that colour, like how it did when it was in the sceptre. This theory however throws a wrench into Loki’s magic.

Finally Agatha, or more specifically dark magic. It makes sense really, dark magic is always depicted as an evil way to gain unimaginable power, so of course it would derive from the power stone. It’s as they say ’absolute power corrupts absolutely’. The black fingertips gained when using dark magic also fits the darkened and charred skin gained when the power stone is held directly.

Now, was this probably all explained in the comics and a giant waste of my time? Probably, but it’s been running around my head for the past few months and I needed a post to prove I wasn’t a bot. Point is, magic is derived by infinity stones.

This is also suggested in different ways, like how both magic and infinity stones are useless in the TVA and how Vision straight up says Wanda’s magic is similar to the mind stone. You could say he was just detecting the part of the mind stone she held, but then he distinctly said it was similar and not the same. He also said he only felt her which showed her only felt her magic and not the his own.

Anyways, if you actually read to this point I’m impressed. Feel free to add your own critiques and theories, just please be nice. Again, first post. It’s probably really obvious and not a great first impression but it’s 5am cut me some slack.

[ocean-anchored]

Dear future self… July 30, 2023

It’s been a bit.

Well where to start, it’s been a while since I’ve done a true update. Things have slowed down. Honestly they came crashing down before they slowed down. It’s been a roller coaster the last two months. I knew the high would end, I know life wasn’t going to be perfect & that at some point something would catch up to me or something would crash down.

Without going back to my old posts, I can’t remember where I left off, maybe it was after Jamaica & maybe when I met Zack?

Yeah that’s been a whole thing. Maybe for another time or later in this post because a lot of the down comes from the relationship which I don’t want to say out loud.

I had a fight with meliss, just over 3 weeks now. Things have been boiling up over this year. We’ve had a few sit downs to talk things through, one being right at the start of January that basically was she felt like she wasn’t a priority in my life & I had been on a big push of meeting people & making friends. We seemed to miss each other with bookings & plans. A lot of it boiled down to miscommunication & I think projecting on the other. We talked it through & I remember expressing how I felt she didn’t really have energy for me. That things kind of just passed by her & she didn’t really invest in me. We talk about going all the time & I told this to Ed, that I’m over the superficial shit. I’m tired of the automatic “how are you” texts or comments. Like how hard is it to g o deeper than that? Our talk resulted good & that she was in burn out & didn’t have energy for anything, so yeah I got the short end of the stick if you want to call it that. We seemed to get a bit better with time but I was still pressing on, going to church, finding young adults groups etc but I still kind of felt her “jealousy” maybe? Idk. I know we had another kind of talk again which was sometime spring & I don’t remember what about. I do know though that she hadnt been in a good place for a long time. How she handled the Richardt thing was bad & I definitely should have expressed more of how uncool it was and inappropriate it was of her, I just wanted to keep my relationship good with her & took it out on Richardt which still was extremely inappropriate what he did. So I probably carried that without saying anything. Jamaica was great & then I had met Zack pretty soon after. Meliss communication was still very lack. I know we had finally planned to go for brunch & I definitely take full responsibility that I didn’t pre plan it & didn’t ask where or whatever but she also knew that I had the whole afternoon & said that we had no time constraints. Till an hour before we meet & then she tells me she barley has an hour to hang out. I was definitely frustrated & felt she was just trying to get back at me. That’s when I told her about Zack which she asked two questions & yes I wasn’t prepared for them & I know she didn’t like my answer. But then it changed, I had babysat literally again last minute with no communication from her & no thank you or acknowledgement. Which again made me more frustrated. When we had finally hung out again I think we went to joeys by her place & talked, mostly all about the things happening in her life. Which was fine, I wasn’t mad about that, I was happy for her & wanted to hear how everything went. But we talked for barley 10 minutes after that about work, all superficial. The next time again with Veronika.

I know was in a bad headspace for responding to her, I shouldn’t have. But man what she came back with I still can’t shake. I know she means well & she cares & she truly thinks that she’s doing what she did out of love but I feel that she did it so wrong. She said so many things that were contradicting. One minute saying she’s thinking about cutting ties & pushing away & the next saying i care about you & want to be here. The way she did it was a full trigger of dad. Again telling me she’s taking 2.5 hours out of her busy life to tell me all that I’m doing wrong because she cares, that’s how she shows she cares… over exaggerated nearly everything. Jamaica was a party trip? Sorry what?? You want to now come at me for fucking smoking? When you were addicted to it barley two months ago & I rarely ever do in general? Telling me I put you in a bad position by making you keep Zack & i a secret? when you were the one who specifically told me not to tell mom & I told you it wasn’t a secret. That I put you in a bad position so you couldn’t ask me anything deep about my life? Like I’m sorry but you can’t hold me to the few times I haven’t handled a situation well, when you also don’t. & to arrogantly tell me that every single person in your life has told you how great you are at confrontation and all this shit. Great for the last two months maybe, how about up until then? I’ve walked on eggshells with you for literally two or more years. Sure you handled two situations alright when me directly because you felt hurt that I wasn’t giving enough to our relationship. But all the other times about mom & how you treat her & Steven & anything to do with the condo you put your guard up. Sure maybe you don’t snap like I might have but you are not easy to talk to that’s definitely for sure. So to come from this high horse of telling me that my character is bad & that I’m doing all these bad things… it’s out of line. No offence but you have no right to tell me about the “splinter in my eye” when you JUST reconciled with God. I know we’re not the same people but how you came about that talk was not good or at least it wasn’t right by me. After over 2 years of being by your side, sacrificing MY relationship with Steven & Amanda my best friends, to stand by your side while you were in hell & sinning & not doing a lot of things right & I didn’t bark down your throat telling you you’re doing everything wrong & you have terrible character. I tried to come lovingly beside you through all of it. Especially through the time of you almost loosing faith. Your so hot & cold. If you’re not on fire on the same page you just cut people off so coldly & rudely. Again not that I feel I could ever talk to you about that.

It’s frustrating. I know the ball is in my court but I don’t have the mental capacity to argue. It’s like arguing with dad. I feel like it doesn’t matter what I say, If I don’t say the right thing of acknowledging & saying yes meliss everything you said is 100% correct & true, then I loose & I just sadly don’t care enough to have that repeat. I don’t feel you’re in a place to hear or understand how those voice notes came out. I’m gunna pull a you & talk about you the way you talk about Steven. Thinking Steven hasn’t changed in two years & he’s dad. Well, I’m sorry to say meliss but I don’t feel your reaction is going to change & you feel like dad to me.

[cidthecoatrack-blog]

This is a place where I can post anything with basically zero (0) concern of the "wrong" someone seeing it, so here we go:

I was let go from my company beginning of June, so I have been on the job hunt. I work in tech, and it's common for recruiters to match candidates to employers (they get a commission based on the candidate's salary if the employer hires them). I have worked with many recruiters, some better than others. Almost every job I have had in my career has been through a recruiter. Nothing against recruiters, in fact I like working with them because they handle negotiations for me (I am wildly non-confrontational). So all in all, no complaints.

TODAY, however, there are Complaints (TM).

Recruiter emails me asking to schedule a time for a call, say they have opportunities that would be a good match for me. This is not abnormal. However, this woman is AGGRESSIVE. I am talking 5 emails in as many minutes. And this is after 4:30 PM. Flag #1.

I sent her my resume and basic compensation expectations. She immediately responds asking for the best number to reach me.

Folks, the number is literally at the top of the resume I just sent her. Flag #2.

She asks when would work best. I say before 1 the next day, because I have other obligations later that day. She schedules a 30 min call at 12:30. Cutting it close, but that's fine.

My dear friends, at 12:26, she abruptly rescheduled it for 4:30 PM that same day. Which, notably, is not in a time frame I said I would be available. Also, this was not asked. No "hey can we reschedule". She just changed the calendar invite without checking. Flag #3

As it turned out, I could make it work. She calls at 4:30. Folks, we have barely gotten through introductions when she IMMEDIATELY launches into a rant about my strong preference for remote work. Like, at least 5 minute rant, if not closer to 10. Saying absolutely no one will hire remote. All employers want in office. Oh, how she WISHED it would be remote, makes her job so much easier, and she "totally understood" why I am not willing to spend my time and money to be less productive, but kept repeating how it was a non-starter for every employer.

Let me tell you something, my dear readers. I have applied to well over a hundred jobs over the past few weeks, the vast majority of which were remote-only. I am deep in the interview process with several companies, all of whom are very aware that I want remote. And who are more than happy to grant it. Even prefer it. For context, one of these companies is Electronic Arts (the video game company). The other is Hewlett Packard. These are not small players. So I know this is complete bullshit she is spewing. Flag #4

I had mentioned when I sent the resume that I was interviewing with several companies, so new opportunities would have to move quickly. I had not mentioned the names of said companies. However, she briefly interrupts her tirade about my unreasonable demands to ask what the companies were. I mention them, notably HP. She then says, "Well, a lot of companies say remote, but then the offer is hybrid, or it's remote and then they switch to in office after a few months. Here, let me google the HP work from home policy. Hmm, this seems to say you have to be in office 3 days a week, and they have a tracker so they know your location, definitely not remote." Lord knows what she was reading. But this was where it dawned on me that she was Negging me. Flag #WTF

Also, for what it was worth, even IF a company wanted to pull the nonsense she described, one of the other companies I am DEEP in the interview process with is based on the west coast, hires all over the country, and wants ONLY remote. So she can stuff it with "no one hires remote" bullshit.

I explain that when I did go into the city (I live outside NYC) for my previous job, it was 2 hours. Each way. She brushes it off. "Oh, I don't live far from where you are, it's more manageable than that." Like, does she think I don't know how fucking TIME works? That somehow when I left the house at 9, I DIDN'T get to the office at 11:15? Still, she starts to look at other places, ones that are a 30 minute drive each way from my house. "These would be 3 days a week in office. And you definitely can't ask for more money. And they won't negotiate on anything." Pardon, but, My Dear Bitch, IT'S YOUR WHOLE DAMN JOB TO NEGOTIATE. Thanks for advertising you are terrible at this. "But you know, these FinTech companies always have lots of good perks and stuff." Huh, notably, you don't mention what any of those perks might be. Is it because you don't understand them, or that you are just making shit up to compensate for your inability to do your job, to negotiate a better salary for me?

Hah, that reminds me: she claimed to "specialize" in FinTech companies. FinTech = Finance Tech. These are your hedge funds, your tech start ups. These things are RIFE with cash, and if you have the skills they want, they will throw a Scrooge McDuck comical amount of money at you. And yet, she was adamant that because of my stated minimum salary requirements, that I would be at the upper end of their salary ranges, and I definitely couldn't get more money. I am a software developer with over 10 years of experience. I have done literally everything under the sun and will pick up new things at the drop of a hat. My minimum salary requirements are me taking a full DECADE to realize how much I am actually worth, and asserting myself that I will not be taken advantage of anymore. And you have the GALL to tell me that a hedge fund owned by whoever it is that owns the Mets (she made a point about that, but she did know his name, I have since forgotten and will not be bothered to google it) can't afford to pay more? And while being "young" and "hip", still subscribe to the ancient practice of Butts In Seats, and not Just Get the Shit Done From Wherever? Flag #What absurd Shakespearean tragedy is this

Oh, did I mention she was cursing left and right? Dropped multiple F bombs casually. Personally, I couldn't give a fuck about language, but it was a certain flavor of Icing on an Unprofessionalism Cake. Kept trying to excuse it as "oh I am old school, I am a dinosaur, I won't sugar coat things. These YOUNGER recruiters will blow smoke up your ass and tell you anything you want, but I deal with reality. I put a lot of people off, they leave to work with someone else, and 3 months later they call me and say I was right all along." Tell me you're a Boomer without telling me you're a Boomer.

Oh, and let us not omit the strange ageism either. "Yeah, so this company sounds up you're alley. Their Finance, young and hip, sounds like you." What, other than Not Sounding Like a Dinosaur, told you I am "young" and "hip"? I am a 33 year old father. I am neither young nor hip. And honestly, in the tech world, I am myself the dinosaur for the most part. But perhaps compared to you, I do possess such youth and vigor.

Strangest and most unpleasant phone call I have ever had.

[theshevenom]

**𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍**

Character: Captain Isabella Steele

Triggers: Contains graphic language and violence.

August 23rd, 2017.

**Location:

4 months after John’s Death.

-

“Can you shut the fuck up.” Isabella growled under her teeth as she rubbed her fingers against her temples. Standing as she looked over towards James Howard, who was tied up with his arms above his head against a wooden post in an abandoned farm house. His face was dripping with blood and he could hardly breathe in and out without wheezing. James was the oldest of the three Howard brothers, she considered killing him weeks ago but she decided to let it linger out. He knew she was hunting him. He was the last one; she took out his brother Michael only 4 weeks after her fiancé was killed. She was working a mission with him; once they were alone she simply went up behind him and slit his throat. Letting him fall face first into the dirt and letting her fellow Marines believe it was a Taliban member.

“You know; I still remember him choking on his own blood as he died.” Isabella whispered as she held a knife in her hand. Her Steele blue eyes wandered the room for a few moments before she looked back at the man. “I kept thinking I would just kill him- I mean-“ she laughed as she waved her hands in the air. Speaking with a giggle. “He led my fiancé to die that day.”

“And- and you think he would want you to do this!?” James kicked and groaned; spitting blood towards Isabella’s face; hitting and running down her cheek. The girl huffed and rolled her eyes; using her sleeve to wipe her face. “You know- you’re making this really difficult for me to stay on track with this story.” She used the knife to scratch her head and paced for a few moments. The marine whispered ‘crazy bitch…’.

“Oh-oh no he led John to die- right right-“ she continued. “Bleh bleh bleh. I killed him- and your youngest brother Luke-” She glared at James for a moment. “Did you know Luke would take pictures of the innocent children and women he would kill in Iraq?” She asked James as she stepped closer to him. “And then… shocker. I found out you did too.” She used the knife to press under James’ chin. “You, Michael, and Luke had this sick honor kink with killing women and children isn’t that right?.” She hissed and james tried to turn his head away. She laughed harder and grabbed his hair in her hand. Forcing him to look at her as she placed the knife under his neck.

“Sending men on suicide missions… picking people you don’t like for them. Marines; brothers; sisters. Oh- and let’s not forget when you literally raped a women in Kuwait and took a video of it-“ James gasped and tried to defend himself; Isabella pressed the blade under his ear, cutting a thin line under his neck. “What did you say in the message you sent them?” She pressed the blade deeper; blood dipping down to his scapula. “Say it.” “I-I said I killed her after.- after I raped her” James tried to keep avoiding eye contact. “And did you?.” Isabella asked as she pulled the knife away. Stabbing it directly behind his ear; into the post. “No-no-“ James literally was about to cry; she had broke him. “So you didn’t take a picture of her naked. DEADBODY. and send it.?.” “It was fake-“ he tried to defend himself. She grabbed the knife and got out of his face. Walking over to where her purse was on the bench and grabbing herself a cigarette; lighting it.

“Oh don’t worry.” She mumbled as she inhaled her cigarette. Taking a moment to contain her smile as she bit her lower lip. “I’m not going to kill you- no.” She laughed as she took another hit of it. “No- I’m going to leave you.” James looked panicked but confused. “What- what.” Isabella had paced back towards him. Pulling out her phone. “I have everything here. Every little piece of evidence, bullshit. Murder. Everything.” She whispered watching his eyes get wide. “I already sent it to your lieutenant, the fed’s, and I might have even slipped alittle email over to your wife; oh and we can’t forget Linda.” She put her phone away as she watched his face turn white. She wanted him to the point where he was begging to die. “Isabella-“ he tried to bargain with her.

“James. You will go to jail… for a-“ she whispered “really long time.” She grabbed her cigarette from her mouth and put it out on the floor. Her phone vibrated and she glanced at it for a moment. “Oh- that’s them.” She grunted and grabbed her things. Leaving him tied up. “Don’t worry. Cops will be her soon to take you into custody. I made sure to record parts of you know- this.” She winked. “As evidence and all.” The girl tucked her hair behind her ear about to leave. She had grabbed a rag and shoved it in his mouth; “Oh and I hope- I really do hope.” She patted his cheek a few times as he squirmed. “You remember this face.” She looked into his eyes. “Because the face of my fiancé, and many others. Are gone. Because of you.” She mumbled as she made her way up the basement stairs. Leaving.

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too.