#do a communications degree cause nobody you will ever work with will know how to communicate

[ravenkinnie]

60% of having a corporate adult job is being a middleman between two people who are perfectly capable of emailing each other directly but for whatever reason will refuse to do so. and then 30% is fixing issues that happen because of that. the other 10% are pivot tables

[ceasarslegion]

the frustrating thing about communism is that it doesn't scale. you need to have a central government because if you don't, everyone around you who does have that coordination will either absorb you peacefully or violently. infrastructure requires maintenance, and that maintenance cannot be managed, trained or supplied for without an organizing body. a parliament or congress is the proper form for that body, imo, but you can't not have it.

To be fair, there are many types of communism that cover similar ideas of government. Within every major political ideology, there will be sects like agree on general ideas but differ when it comes to the details of how to make that happen or how to govern such a structure. But i do see where youre coming from, I've also noticed that the nitty gritty boring things that are nonetheless critical for the functioning of a major society are often left at the wayside in (online) communist circles in favour of the revolution pipe dream.

In my opinion, any ideology that hinges on the idea that we can achieve a perfect society at all is already doomed to fail, and often to fall into actual fascism for a number of reasons. Firstly, humans are inherently flawed. Flawed beings can not achieve perfection, period. Secondly, what "perfect" means is very subjective based on experience, ideology, and personal preference, meaning that my idea of perfect would be unlivable for many of the people living in my apartment building, much less within an entire society. And if i were to be put in such a position, it would be dictatorial of me to enforce my idea of perfection upon those people. Thirdly, you will never, ever, EVER have a legitimate society where nobody disagrees with the government. It just doesn't happen without mass enforcement. There will ALWAYS be someone who disagrees with how the show is run, there will ALWAYS be someone who is hurt by ANY system, and there will ALWAYS be someone willing to officially dissent against the government. You could have a society based on the idea that everyone gets free food and shelter and water and energy and free education and puppies and rainbows and unicorns, and you will end up hurting the farmers who have to work disproportionately to others to produce the resources to allow this to happen, and then how are you going to organically convince them that this is for the greater good without some kind of enforcement?

If you can not answer the questions of "how will you deal with dissent in your perfect society," or your answer is "there will not be dissent" then im sorry but theres more than a few red flags in there for me.

Like look, i dont mean to sound like im bragging but i think pointing this out is warranted. All my education is in politics. I have a 4.0 ivy league degree, i come from a family made up entirely of history teachers and local politicians, i have spent years on the frontlines of legitimate activist movements and i volunteer as many extra hours as i can with the NDP, at this point im on a first name basis with multiple local MPs and MPPs within the party. I have read whatever political theory youre about to demand i read to "change my mind." Ive probably read it multiple times in order to write a paper on it. And i still dont have an answer for the question of "so what system wouldnt cause all this hurt?" because all that experience and education has mostly taught me how incredibly ignorant i really am and how i would be a dictator if given absolute power, because everybody would be. Yes, you. You would be too. Sometimes the best answer you have is "i dont know, so right now lets do the best we can with what we have."

[grimogretricks]

Emotions, power, and repression in Victorian society

There is a popular conception that in Victorian times, everyone was intensely emotionally repressed in every way and that nobody ever spoke of mental health or considered feelings.

The instant you look into any book written in the era, you realise this is not only not true, but that characters will often be downright overflowing with earnest emotion to a degree that really stands out compared to the norms of today.

We can see this so well with Dracula- the characters are expressive and enthusiastic in the love and friendship they share with each other. Tumblr makes all those jokes about the 'polycule' because, genuinely, they openly show love and care on a constant basis for each other and openly affirm their bonds.

Moreover, rather than by default condemning and excising any kind of deviation from the manly and stoic in men, as well as allowing them to express positive emotions for each other, they're also able to express their stress and unhappiness in front of each other. For example, Arthur, breaking down in Seward's arms and then Van Helsing's, and the group's (if somewhat flawed) understanding of Jonathan's trauma, which has genuine sympathy and not condemnation in it.

More explicit attention is also given to the psychological impact things will have upon characters than is often common in works today! For example, even when Van Helsing is actually planning to involve Arthur in something incredibly traumatic, part of his reasoning for involving him is the believe it will help him, mentally, that it will be catharsis and closure.

Yet of course, there is another side to that! Characters feel pressure to maintain, still, an idealised image of themselves, and moreover, while showing negative emotion and strain is *allowed* it does actually impact what autonomy and participation that character is allowed.  

Early in the novel, we do see, of course, how the pressure to put on a 'bold face' and live according to ideals relevant to their gender, does cause characters to suppress their feelings and pretend all is going better than it is, in part for the sake of others' feelings.

Arthur, despite his earlier breakdowns with the men, states he feels unable to give full expression to his emotions in the company of other men. Mina (and Lucy before her, and also Jonathan) meanwhile, downplays her own emotions in order to present a 'bold face' to the world and seems to think herself selfish if she focuses on herself.

And part of the reason for maintaining that facade is that while showing vulnerability is treated with sympathy, it is also a means of becoming disempowered, in a way, and left out of things.

Later in the novel, we see more of this. If more attention is also given to the psychological impact, it's also true that those who are seen as unable to bear that psychological impact lose something of their autonomy and standing in things.

Jonathan is unable to take part in things until he maintains composure and declares himself feeling better for knowing his trauma was based upon something real, and even Van Helsing's authority is, albeit briefly, called into question by Seward when he shows signs of 'hysteria'.

Not only is Mina shut out of things because it's wrongly believed that as a woman, she by default needs protected from the psychological impact upon her woman's heart, but she also feels, after this, a pressure to maintain a calm facade that all is well, lest they tell her even less and shut her out even more.

This is what leads to her becoming a victim to Dracula, because they have shut her out and broken the open communication between them and her, and treated her as less legitimately able to act. They disempowered her and this in fact left her open to Dracula's predation.

Meanwhile, as with Mina, Renfield's display of sanity and the legitimacy of his pleas are in part contingent upon him maintaining his 'gentlemanly' composure and the more that he slips into emotionality the less sane- and the less worthy of autonomy, he's seen as being too 'insane' to trust.

I think something that goes understated as a cultural aspect of the times which underpins a lot of this is the intense amount of paternalism to the middle and upper class Victorian culture - benevolent yet controlling, with surface air of caring, that yet will disempower and exclude people 'for their own good'.

Nowadays the notion that the older, more experienced person by default has the authority over the younger people and will have their attention and admiration, or that a qualified authority will by default be looked up to, has become so much less common, but you notice it a lot more in older works.

Van Helsing is of course, an absolute master of wielding the paternalistic authority being the elder, parental figure as well as  a learned authority gives him, and I think that is a big part of why he actually gets the group to go along with what he's doing, whether that's going to Lucy's tomb or agreeing to exclude Mina from the group.

[rianafying]

had a rlly rough start to today. was up by 9:30 which is a decent time to wake up, considering my sleep schedule has been as over the place this week. i woke up to a text from someone i worked with recently pointing out a mistake i had made, and as awful as it initially made me feel, i gathered myself, apologised and explained the situation etc. i felt terrible, like i do when even the slightest thing goes wrong. i’m always anticipating failure anyway, and besides i knew about the mistake, it just that it’s mostly beyond my control. i have very limited resources. anyway, yeah they responded by saying this doesn’t affect us working together and that he’s more than interested in continuing to work with me, just that he thought it was important to discuss so we could have it in mind moving forward, which i really appreciate. but the part in me that loves to be anxious and think the worst of myself, is trying to take this opportunity to make me sink back into a spiral, but i know it’s not that deep, people make mistakes, and it has already been resolved. i don’t need to worry about it. worry is my worst enemy. even things that shouldn’t cause concern make me sweat from concern. i can’t take it easy i can’t sit back and relax, i live inside a personal hell. there is no rest from this madness. i need a fucking break. i’m exhausted. from the moment i wake up to crying myself to sleep and even in sleep i have nightmares everyday, i wake up exhausted from being anxious in my sleep all night. for the past few years i have been exhausted, i have been feeling like i’m going crazy. i am going crazy. oh god there’s so much stuff. i feel as if i will never see success in my career, i will never be independent, i will never recover from my past, i will never see peace and safety, i feel like i will spend my whole life worrying and grieving and suffering, even in my deathbed, i’ll be plagued with anxiety. and im so lonely, not in a i don’t have friends way, i do have amazing friends, but im lonely in the way that everyone is lonely sometimes. in the way that in this world we have ourselves. lonely in the way that nobody will know exactly what it’s like to live how i live, feel what i feel, or what i’m thinking. nobody will understand me the way i do, and i have to use my words to communicate it, to try to bridge the gap between language and reality, between the outside and my insides. and yet in a way, everything is the same, everyone who has ever lived has had feelings. i’m doing the best i can. everyone is. i guess. in their own twisted way. it’s too early to call anyone and i find that im very dishonest about my feelings via text as opposed to how vulnerable i am when im speaking over a call. i pretend to be happy and fine, for two reasons, 1) i try to fake it till i make it, 2) not to cause unnecessary trouble or concern.

i just got offered a gig on the 22nd, but it’ll be 42 degrees that day, i’ll actually die of a heatstroke because that studio doesn’t have air conditioning. i don’t know what to do. i know ill have a flare up but i hate not being able to go or having to turn down gigs.

okay wtf look at what the costar app just sent me:

that is so insane. co star is crazy for this fr. they always send me something so related to my day. jesus. almost makes you think astrology is real.

anyway yeah, so i have a lot to do but ill probably end up watching tv and buying unnecessary groceries today. which is honestly a perfectly normal thing to do when on holiday. i’ll try not to feel guilty about it.

[ocpdzim]

anyway. banging pots and pans together.

IF YOU NEED WORK AND ARE OK WITH KIDS. GOOGLE UR DISTRICT’S REQUIREMENTS AND PAY FOR SUBSTITUTE TEACHING.

there is a HUGE need for substitute teachers right now, and unlike most jobs which claim they need workers so bad but then don’t hire you, they’re very serious about it when they say they are hiring whoever, at least in my district. i was hired almost immediately w no interview or anything. so was everyone else i know who applied.

depending on the district, requirements for substitute teaching vary, but in some districts you only need a high school diploma. in my district you need some college credits but not a degree.

to my understanding from talking to other subs from around the US, pay and benefits are highly variable depending on the district. mine pays ~$14/hour for most schools, but ~$17/hour for middle schools. from other subs from other districts, the highest hourly pay i have heard of was $34/hour and the lowest was $8/hour, so depending on your district it might be either a great paying job or a really shitty paying job. some districts, like mine, also offer full healthcare benefits including dental and vision, even though it is a part time job.

the best thing about substitute teaching is you get to choose which schools you work at and when. once again the exact details of this vary, but i am allowed to work anywhere between 4 days a month to full time. i can accept sub jobs months ahead of time or in the morning right before i leave to go to them or any time in between, whichever i prefer. i can choose whichever schools i want for this. if i go to one and it sucks i just don’t go back there any more.

worried you don’t have the skills? listen. if you have the very basic skill of “don’t be a dick to children,” you are already ahead of a lot of people in the field, and the kids and the rest of the school’s faculty WILL benefit from having you in the room instead of either someone who is mean to them or nobody at all. the sub shortage is so bad right now and it causes chaos in classrooms when there is no sub to cover an absence - teachers lose their planning periods, students are shoved into other classes than their usual one, it’s a big mess. i went on the job assignment website just now and you know how many classes in my district alone need a sub tomorrow and do not have one? 124. there will be more by morning. if i felt like working tomorrow, i would have my pick of these. if i wake up and decide last minute that i feel like working, i can.

not only that, while it isn’t guaranteed (since some schools will put you on lunch duty or have you cover a different class), most of the time you will get a Long Paid Break when substitute teaching. this is because teachers have a planning period at some point during the day. it’s like an hour long most of the time, but i’ve been to schools before where it was literally 3 hours long. for teachers this is not a break bc as the name implies they are planning their lessons and grading papers during this time, but if you’re a substitute, you aren’t doing that stuff. if you are really lucky this will be the last period of the day and when that happens the school will sometimes just let you go home. i still get paid for the full day when this happens. 

substitute teaching is a job where you can make a real positive difference in your community, you pick your own hours and the location you work at, and a significant chunk of the time people at work are very appreciative of your presence and nice to you. sometimes a child will even draw a picture for you which is the cutest thing ever. like. i cannot recommend it highly enough. if you need a job and have at least a high school diploma Google It Right Now And Check If You Qualify.

[asstrolo]

Astrology notes while listening to mitski

(most of these are my personal theories and a compilation of tweets from other astrologers on astro tw, please feel free to add more if you want)

✷ I noticed a lot of capricorn dominant/stellium people like astrology, spirituality and tarot, it must be cause of their sidereal Sagittarius stellium, but it’s good that they like these kinds of things since it can help the person be less uptight 

✷ Wanna know how your love life is gonna go this year? check your solar return, if you haven’t had your birthday yet, then put 2020 after your birthday instead of 2021, see if there’s any aspects in your 7H, for example, if your 7H in the Solar Return is aspecting Neptune, you might be more idealistic about your relationships in general, so be careful by not seeing something that’s not there! or aspecting Pluto, you’ll attract a lot of past lovers, you must also be careful not to fall into possessiveness or unhealthy habits in your relationships, this can count on Venus aspects too! but i personally think the 7H is more important

✷ Also, this has been brought up by another astro blog and they said if your Natal Chart 1H is in your 7H or 5H in your Solar Chart you’ll also be most likely to have romantic relationships that year or it will play an important role that year too (this post!)

✷ Most people that have Saturn in 7H tend to marry or get into really serious relationships rather young, it’s recommended for them to not get married until they have their Saturn return because they’ll probably get divorced (@iJadee on twitter talks a lot about this specifically, and i 100% believe its true, be careful!)

✷ Too much of virgo and libra in one chart can make someone incredibly giving and they get taken advantage of A LOT, they don't know how to put boundaries between being polite and being used, this is something they have to battle with for the rest of their lives because they probably have it since childhood, being the mediator of the family or the one everyone is counting on to be harmonious and happy and giving

✷ A person with plenty of 8H, specially in Venus, Mars and/or Saturn are NOT the type to have one-night stands, these people see sex as the ultimate sacrifice to let yourself be vulnerable with your partner, they probably were in very serious long relationships from a young age or are waiting until they get into a relationship, they are very connected to physical touch, that’s why they won’t give it to just anyone

✷ Also, now that we are in the 8H, this house doesn’t always necessary means sex or what they do with partners or their kinks, this house is way more than that, you’d figure people here will already know that, but not everyone knows. So I’ll tell you what this house means; death, heritage, your dark side, money and how you push yourself, transformation and what you can be scared of, this house has so many more meanings than sex

✷ Having gemini degrees (3°, 15°, 27°) in any planet, but specially MC and ASC, gives the person an innate ability to write and communicate, even if this person has hard aspects with Mercury, people are drawn to what they have to say, this makes someone really good at things related to marketing, or social media, publishing, selling things, etc (the original tweet!)

✷ Following the topic of degrees, if you have several degrees in a sign, like having them in Leo degrees, 5°, 17°, 29°, but not having any Leo in your chart, you can still feel like you relate to that sign to some extent, or having a lot of degrees in a same element (4°, 16°, 28° cancer degree, 8°, 20° scorpio degree, 12°, 24° pisces degree) gives a person more water attributes even if they don’t have water in their chart

✷ A Venus dominant person, or having Venus aspected the most on their chart makes a super artistic person, yes, they know how to create art and are good at it, but Mercury dominant people (especially with Venusian influence) are just as good, they add realism to beauty, they can make normal everyday things look poetic and inspiring, virgos get inspired by that, their routine and geminis by the people around them

✷ This also happens with Saturn dominant people, i think, personally, that capricorns have a way of connecting to their femininity or their softer, more delicate side, and this has nothing to do with gender, earth people normally have a gracious way of moving and a really soft, pretty way of interpreting art, a capricorn will make something like pain or obligations into art, talk about jobs and how money works and how everything is the same in a way that seems likeable, more dreamy

✷ Just gonna continue talking about capricorns lol, these people are very fatalist, they see complications and problems as something beautiful, most musicians that are capricorns or have this sign a lot in their chart use the pain that a situation has caused them and romanticize it, it's almost like they are happy difficult things happen in life to make them feel human

✷ libras don't get enough credit, these people are very ambitious and will do anything to succeed on whatever they want, they might even risk their own health for it

✷ Don't know what to gift your scorpio rising friend? Gift them a cat, scorpio risings have a Leo MC and, as we know, Leo and cats just go together, there is something about the connection a Leo placement and their cats have that nobody else ever will, don't be stupid, gift them a cat!

That's it's all for today folks, please don't send me your birth charts because i won't read them unless you pay me 🤠

[thunderheadfred]

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader is looking for her teenage sister’s service dog one day, she runs into Dean Winchester who thankfully saw him run past. When she arrives, her sister is fine aside from a sprained ankle but Dean’s decided to follow along and help get her sister home...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Please enjoy this first part! …

_________

“Toast! Toast!” you shouted as you ran down a street. “Toast boy!”

“Uh, you okay?” said a guy walking on the other side of the street. He was raising an eyebrow and you shook your head.

“Toast is a dog,” you said.

“Oh, gotcha. I thought you were nuts for a minute,” he chuckled.

“You haven’t seen a german shepard around have you?” you asked.

“I saw one run down the block a few minutes ago,” he said. You looked the direction he pointed and you started sprinting. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk!” you shouted back. You ran down the block and across the street over to the park. You ran over to the basketball court and saw Toast there next to Tessa. She was sat up and holding onto his vest when you jogged over to her. “Tess. Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. She was holding her ankle and you saw the swelling. “I think I broke it playing. My phone’s over in my bag. I told Toast to get it but I guess he ran home and got you instead.”

“He barged in through the doggy door, I thought he was just nuts at first,” you said. You heard footsteps behind you and the man from the street was there panting.

“You found your dog,” he said as he caught his breath. 

“Yeah,” you said, the man wincing when he saw Tessa’s ankle. “We’re all set.”

“She needs a doctor,” he said.

“Tessa, you okay here while I run home to get my car?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she said. “Toast’ll stay.”

“I can carry her,” said the man. You both stared at him and he shrugged. “Save you a trip.”

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” you asked. 

“Says the woman running through the neighborhood shouting Toast,” he smiled back.

“Alright. Tess if you’re cool with it…” you said, the man nodding.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean will carry you back to the house and I’ll drive you to urgent care,” you said. “If you do try anything though Dean, Toast will rip your face and junk off, just to be clear.”

“Got the message,” he said. Tessa climbed on his back and he was careful of her ankle while you grabbed her bag. You walked with Toast by Dean’s side back the few blocks towards home. “I think it’s just a sprain actually. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You play basketball?” you asked.

“No. I’m a doctor is all. First glance it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Are you single? Y/N’s single,” she said.

“You’re a little shit, Tessa,” you said. Dean chuckled and Toast bumped his leg. “He wants you to get on the sidewalk.”

“Will do,” he said, Toast giving some space once he’d stepped up off the road. “He’s very intelligent.”

“We’ve only had Toast two years but he’s been very good with us,” you said. “He’s Tessa’s. I just feed him and pick up his poop.”

“I have school, loser.”

“I have work, loser,” you said. 

“You guys must be sisters,” he said. “I’m a big brother. I would know.”

“If your younger brother is single and half as good looking-”

“Keep it in your pants, Tess,” you said. 

“I like you two,” he chuckled. “Sorry Tessa but he’s probably a little too old for you.”

“They always are,” she sighed.

“You’re seventeen. You’re fine,” you said. “Besides college has way more attractive guys and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, Elmdale community college. Known for it’s hotties,” she mumbled.

“Elmdale University has some good choices,” you said.

“I thought it was too expensive,” she said.

“Well I was gonna tell you this at dinner but I applied for a different job awhile ago. I heard back this morning. I accepted. It’s double what I was making before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. With your grades you can get a half-ride and I figure between inheritance and my new salary, you can do your four year out of the gate without loans,” you said.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“You still need your part-time job if you want to get stuff for yourself though. I’m sorry. I can’t make it work if-”

“S’okay,” she said. “I can’t believe I can go to the university.”

“I called up the school earlier and talked to your guidance counselor. We gotta work on your application but we can make it work,” you said.

“Can I get a car? I know I can’t afford room and board but maybe I can get something used so you don’t have to drive me all the time?” she asked.

“Tessa…” you sighed. You knew you couldn’t afford insurance on two cars at the moment and everything else and she wouldn’t make enough part time to cover all the car expenses herself. “I-”

“I can pick up more shifts,” she said.

“Tessa, I want you to enjoy college. I sure did. I’ll give you rides whenever you want. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night. That would work, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t even care about my ankle. I can get my art degree!” she said.

“Tessa.”

“I’m joking,” she laughed. “Art minor?”

“You can minor in whatever you like but please for my sanity major in something you can get a job in?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. You rounded a corner and started to walk up a driveway, Dean setting Tessa down in the passenger seat of your car. You opened the back and Toast jumped in, Dean smiling when you shut both the doors.

“Thanks,” you said. “For helping us out.”

“Sounds like you two know how to solve problems on your own,” he said. “Happy to help. Here.”

He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card.

“If you ever need a doctor, I’m two blocks over,” he said. “Or just to talk.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

It was around nine when you were sitting on the front porch with a glass of whiskey in your hand. You drank slowly, eyes catching a man in a baseball cap and reflective shirt jogging by.

“Do you always run at night?” you called, Dean stopping at your front walkway. “Cause I never see you run at night and I sit out here a lot.”

“Whew well let’s stop that charade cause running is so not my thing,” he said. He breathed hard for a moment as he walked up the steps. You nodded to the other chair and poured him a glass, Dean drinking it down. “Your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Just a sprain,” you said. “Still gotta pay the deductible for the x-ray though.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty one,” he said.

“Twenty eight.”

“Where are your folks?” he asked.

“They and Tessa were in an accident two years ago. It’s just us two now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m slowly getting used to be a guardian,” you said.

“I raised my little brother. My parents are still around but they fought a lot. I get becoming the parent when you’re not ready.”

“Do you ever get to just be a sibling again?” you asked.

“Yes. But they have to grow up first and you got a few more years ahead of you before it happens,” he said.

“I figured.”

“What does she have? Toast is a service dog I saw.”

“She gets seizures sometimes. It’s from the accident. She hasn’t had one in seven months. Fingers crossed we got her on the right mix of meds finally,” you said.

“So who takes care of you?”

“My buddy Jack Daniels. Sometimes I hang out Jim Bean too.”

“I’m partial to Johnny Walker,” smiled Dean.

“Very nice. I don’t drink much. Too tired most of the time,” you said.

“So nobody takes care of you then.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“Good point,” he said. “But I didn’t have it this rough.”

“We’re getting by. We always do.”

“I have no doubt that you can,” he said. “Take care of yourself every once in a while is all.”

“When she’s done with school I will.”

“She’s got five years left. You won’t last that long,” he said.

“Watch me.”

“Who worked on your sister at the urgent care tonight?”

“Dr. Novak. Why?”

“Cas is a good friend. I’ll see about getting that x-ray test off the bill,” he said as he stood up.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, heading down the steps. “You want me to leave you alone from now on?”

“...No.”

“You want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at noon? I’m buying. Nothing too fancy,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He smiled and nodded, spinning around and sliding right off the last two steps to his bottom. You rushed down them and he groaned, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he said, grunting as he stood. “Oh my ass hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, Dean laughing.

“I definitely like you,” he said as you helped him take a few steps. “I’m alright. I’ll swing by tomorrow then.”

“Bye Dean,” you said.

“Bye Dean!” called Tessa from her bedroom window upstairs.

“Oh my God, go to bed!” you shouted back.

“It’s nine and I’m not twelve,” she said.

“Goodnight ladies,” chuckled Dean, waving as he headed back down the path. You gathered up the bottle and glasses, bringing them inside and locking up for the night. A few minutes later you were upstairs in Tessa’s room, frowning as she giggled while looking through her phone.

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes at you. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he’s single and he’s a dork that just fell on his butt in front of you cause he’s so nervous and trying to play it cool. Like what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing. We have a date tomorrow,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

“We used to talk about guys,” she said. 

“I know,” you said. You picked at the wood, Tessa putting her phone down.

“Y/N. You’re not my mom. I know you gotta act like her sometimes but you’re not. Mom and dad would want you to go on dates and stuff. I haven’t seen you do anything fun in years.”

“I barely knew how to be an adult for just me,” you said. “You’re my priority now.”

“I’m not in a hospital bed anymore. My seizures are under control and I got Toast to watch out for me just in case. Dean had a point. You gotta take care of yourself,” she said. “Including me going to community college.”

“Tessa-”

“It’s both our inheritance and you can’t spend all of it on me. I can do two years at community and transfer to the university after.”

“Tess. You don’t have to do that. I did the math and it’ll work out.”

“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself? Seriously when?”

“I bought a new bedspread two weeks ago.”

“You needed one. That doesn’t count. When-”

“Before mom and dad died, Tess. Is that what you want me to say? They made good money but you had medical bills. Do I want a new winter coat? Sure. Do I want to splurge and by myself a nice pair of leggings? Of course. I want things. But I want us to stay in this house. I don’t want us to get shoved in a tiny apartment. I want you to be able to go to college like I did and not worry about this crap. I’m the grown up, not you. I choose how to spend the money.”

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed the crutch by her bed and got up, going to her dresser. She opened her jewelry box and grabbed a wad of cash, holding it out to you. “It’s three hundred. I want you to have it.”

“Tessa, no.”

“I earned it. I get to choose how to spend it,” she said. “You’ve always told me that. Buy a coat and leggings and whatever else you want.”

“Tessa. It’s yours. You were saving up to buy an iphone.”

“I don’t need a fucking phone. I need my sister to stop looking like she cries herself to sleep every night. Just take it,” she said. You shook your head and she shoved the money in your hand. “Y/N, take it.”

“Alright,” you said. 

“Good.” She waited a beat before pulling you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

“I was gonna sleepover Hailey’s house if that’s okay?” she said.

“Yeah. You guys have fun,” you said. “Just be careful on your ankle.”

“Duh,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’m kinda beat. Sunday for sure?” you said. 

“Okay. Night,” she said.

“Night, Tess,” you said. You went next door to your room, opening your desk drawer and opening the envelope inside. You counted the money she’d given you and added it to the front. You definitely had enough for her phone now and her birthday was only a few weeks away. You smiled and put it away, writing out a few bills before you gathered up your pajamas and walked down the hall to the bathroom. You kept going though, down to the shut door. You pushed it open, the room cold and dark. You flipped on a light, a coating of dust on everything again.

“Y/N?” said Tessa from the other end of the hall. You turned off the light and shut the door, Tessa by the bathroom when you walked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower quick before bed. Shout if you need something.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Dean POV

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean after he’d gotten out of the shower and was laying in bed. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” asked Sam on the other end of the phone. 

“I think I just went full on weirdo on this girl I met today.”

“Well that’s obvious but what’d you do? You didn’t like stalk her or anything.”

“She lives in the neighborhood. I kinda went jogging past her house tonight and she was sat on the front porch.”

“Okay that’s kinda creepy,” said Sam. Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I gave off creeper vibes but she might have just been polite. I don’t know. We’re going out tomorrow,” said Dean. He was quiet as he shut his eyes. “Which sucks cause I really like her too. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“Maybe she’ll have pity on you and let it slide. Where’d you meet her? I thought you swore off women after your last hookup went bad,” he said. Dean didn’t speak and ran his hand over his face again. “De I know something happened that night.”

“Sammy I got tired of hooking up. I’m too old for it. I just want a girl to go home to at the end of the day and laugh with. That’s all there is to it,” said Dean.

“Dean I was still living with you at the time. You were off for days. I know-”

“If you’re gonna bring this shit up again-”

“I’m just saying it’s nice to hear you excited about a girl again...and you can tell me anything. Anything, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re twenty seven. You’re a kid,” said Dean. He rolled over on the bed and lay on his stomach, putting his hands under his chin. “Some things I just don’t tell you about, Sam.”

“Dean, I asked you to stop raising me awhile ago. You’re not my father anymore.”

“I still gotta protect you from stuff,” said Dean with a shrug.

“I get that. But my mind has gone to the worst case scenario on this more than once. Just promise it wasn’t that,” said Sam.

“Sammy, I called to talk about a girl.”

“You want things to work out with her? Then figure out whatever the hell happened in the past so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dean. 

“Whatever. Just crack a joke next time you see her,” said Sam. He hung up and Dean looked at his phone, sighing before he jammed his face in the bed. He gripped the sheets tight and felt his heart rate pick up, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Stop. It,” he said to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He wiped off his eye and dropped his head to his chest. “It’s just a fucking girl. It’s just a girl, it’s just a date. It’s all it is.”

He saw his phone light up and Sam’s name appear. He swiped and put it on speaker before he faced away from it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam. 

“It’s okay,” said Dean, freezing when he sniffled. He stared at the phone and Sam cleared his throat.

“You alright?” Dean stared at the phone and shook his head. “De, you there?”

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes…” said Sam. “It’s just me.”

“You repeat a word of this to anybody or you laugh or you tease me or-”

“Hey. I’d rather we not have this conversation over the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“...Fine but you better bring some pie with you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[magicjesuscup]

Joel Thoughts

Spoilers below for Grayson's Book 1.

Joel is possibly the biggest karma houdini I've ever seen. I don't think we were told what his punishment was (I’m hoping that’s in Grayson’s book 2), but we know he escaped execution (and note to self: capital punishment is a thing in Invidia), which seems weird to me considering all the things he's guilty of (or at least I think he's guilty of).

In general

Two Counts of Procurement, Possession, and Use of a Magical Artifact

I'm counting this as two since the magical artifact came in a pair.

In Avari

Unknown Counts of (probably first degree) Murder

No one can convince me that Grayson was the first person Joel used his magical artifact on. He seemed to have too good a grasp on how it worked for that to be his first time. So who else could he have used it on? We're told he was stationed in Avari before coming to Colde, so I'm guessing he practiced on Avarian thaumaturges.

In Colde

Two Counts of Destruction of Property

He dropped two buildings.

Unknown Counts of Assault and Attempted Murder

I think the first building he brought down was a test. I think he wanted to see if he could do it and then tried to cover it up by pretending to be the hero. Students and possibly instructors did get injured in that, hence the assault. The second time though? I think he was trying to kill the people inside.

Happened in Colde, but is probably more important to Invidia

Possibly 1 Count of being Absent Without Leave

This depends if you believe Joel was legitimately sent to Colde. I don't for a few reasons:

If Roy's parents were sending a second valet, I imagine they would've sent a woman to look after Sherry, or at least pick up the stuff that made Grayson uncomfortable (washing Sherry's underwear for example).

MC found Joel wandering around the woods. If it were an official assignment, would've someone have given him directions and told him where to go? Better yet, told Grayson to meet him at the pier? Which brings me to my next point...

I think somebody would've told Roy, Sherry, or Grayson (especially Grayson) that a second valet was on the way rather than just surprise them with Joel.

At the very least, Joel should've had paperwork or some kind of proof of his new assignment. When he was first telling Roy, Sherry, and Grayson about being the new second valet, I was expecting him to pull out a document or something and say, "Look? See? I'm not making this up." But he didn't.

A bit unrelated, but I'm equally concerned nobody checked. Nobody in their right mind would've blamed Grayson for sending a letter asking, "Hey, did you send a second valet? Because I didn't hear anything about that, and Joel doesn't have any of the required paperwork." Roy or Sherry could've also sent a letter to their parents saying, "Thanks for sending a second valet. Joel's a good friend." The response would've been, "You're welcome," or, "What are you talking about? We didn't send anyone." Either way, they would've had their answer.

One Count of Attempted Murder

He tried to kill Grayson.

No fewer than 4 Counts of Treason

He tried to kill Roy in the cave. Joel also tried to kill Sherry 3 times. Once when he took down the building she was in, a second time when he realized that attempt failed, and a third time in the cave.

I'm surprised he wasn't considered a criminal internationally and tried in multiple kingdoms. Aside form the stuff that may have happened in Avari, students from all over Salagia were in the buildings he caused to collapse. He also fought with Fenn and Lynt. I imagine that should have consequences, even if was just community service.

[dystopiandilfs]

Thoughts on Ranboo in that Lie-detector test vlog? Some parts of smiletwt think he asked way too many Dream questions that to some degree sets Dream up. While I do agree the fun part of the vlog is to make Tommy look like he lied about something, the Dream questions just ended up putting a lot of pressure on him which probably is the reason why most of his answers were 'lies.' I'd like to be fair and think Ranboo just wanted to get a reaction from Tommy (since I don't want to appear too biased on Dream) but sometimes I think he's getting a lil bit too comfy—

P.S. I'd like to compare his questions to Wilbur's serious ones. Wilbur asked it in general format, not necessarily pointing at a specific drama. Whereas Ranboo asked things that are controversial about Dream which can be taken out of context by people outside the community.

I want to start this off by saying that this is obviously my opinion and nobody is forced to agree or disagree. If you want to disagree at least give me good reasoning other than "they're friends". This isn't me attacking Ranboo or Tommy so no need to attempt to defend them from me because I don't care and they don't care.

I didn't like some of the questions however I do think it's important to remember how lie detector tests work. They react to emotional trigger movement mainly stress and anxiety. They're not that reliable and aren't useable as evidence in court. A lot of known serial killers and murderers weren't caught earlier because they passed lie detector tests. So for that purpose I'm not going to really mention Tommy's answers purely because of how easily you can manipulate a lie detector test and how often the answers are faked for content.

I do think it was a bit weird for Ranboo to "target" Dream and only Dream. Like I personally expected a lot of George based questions and maybe one Dream/DreamSMP based question.

Like I understand that they're friends and it was content however it's so weird that those were the Dream based questions, it's even weirder that they were said by Ranboo.

So first off I want to talk about the questions directly about Dream.

Ranboo first asked "Do you really enjoy Dream's music?" Which I personally think is such a weird question and just awkward in general. Like I'm normally quite neutral with Ranboo but that is annoying as fuck. That's like asking a parent which child is their favourite. Why are you asking Tommy to A) Compare his friends with one in the room and one not and B) Asking in a way that ends up with someone getting "insulted"

Jack then asked "Are you jealous of Dream?" To which Tommy answered no which was apparently a lie. That to me is a fine question. It gave me Philza Minecraft flashbacks to when Tommy and Dream were having a fun back and forth on twitter and Peepaws old ass ruined the fun but overall it's a good question. Nobody is getting upset and nobody is getting insulted.

Then Ranboo asked "Do you think that Dream intentionally cheated in his speedrun?" I've said it before I hate any of Dream's friends bringing up the speedrunning situation unless it's Sapnap and Illumina so you already know my thoughts on that. I don't care that Dream, Tommy and Ranboo are friends, bringing up shit that fucked someone's mental health isn't going to ever sit right with me especially when it's resurfacing something that is practically buried.

The targeted questions were all about Dream which is super weird to me. Like normally the only time Dream is bought up on Tommy's vlogs is by George seeing the colour green and connecting it to Dream.

Like Wilbur's questions were aimed more towards "Who's your favourite out of the group" "Do you think that I was better before the DreamSMP" "Have you ever apologised on stream and not meant it" like his were mostly general and not about one specific person.

Tubbo's were aiming to make Tommy uncomfortable but not through shit talking someone outside the room. Like he asked "Do you talk about me negatively behind my back" "Would you be my friend if I hadn't become a streamer" Like Tubbo aimed to make Tommy uncomfortable by admitting things to people's faces.

Jack's were a wild mix of chaos but they never were directed towards something incredibly specific other than himself minus the Dream question but that was aimed more towards seeing if Tommy had a big ego.

I think using Dream's past dramas to get a reaction out of Tommy for content is stupid. Especially since Dream's been relatively drama free for the past 80 days and you know full well that if Dream's own friends are bringing up drama then people are going to take it and run. I just think is the result of that video really worth keeping it in.

I said on here before and on Reddit earlier that surely by now Tommy and his editors should have learned that you can't keep certain things in videos. Like the girl from the 10 million video, Logan Paul Catcalling, Bringing up Niki and Wilbur or Shelby and Wilbur even if it's for content because all that does is either give people the go ahead to do the same (ship Niki and Wilbur or Shelby and Wilbur which in turn ends up with the girls getting harassed) start drama and causes more fights and more death threats and doxxes to happen.

The video was good minus Ranboo's questions and if they weren't included it might have been one of my favourite vlogs.

There's a difference between how to ask targeted questions for example if the music based question was "Do you prefer Dream's music over Wilbur's?" That would have been way better than how Ranboo worded it. I don't think there was a better way to being up the speedrunning situation because it was the worst thing to have bought up and shouldn't have been mentioned.

[sunnie-scribbles]

i’ll wait | daichi

What do you do when the one you love tells you they need space? How do you cope when they’ve gone? And what do you do if you’re not sure they’ll ever come back?

Pairing: Timeskip!Daichi x female reader

Warnings: Yearning, angst once again 

Wc: 1359

Daichi loved you enough to keep his distance, even though all he wanted to do right then was run over and say hello. 

He watched as you walked out of the corner store across the street with a small cup of coffee in your hand. Your hair was different now, shorter than it used to be. You were no longer sporting that ratty yellow hoodie you used to wear back in high school. You might be a little taller, but he couldn't be sure. 

God, how long has it been since he'd last seen you? 

He was sure it’s been years. 

Daichi could still recall the night you told him you were going to leave, much too vividly. If he closed his eyes, he could see the stars twinkling faintly above your heads and feel the warm June breeze rustle through his hair. He could picture the balcony in your room, with its rusty old railings and the paint chipping off it. And if he tried really hard, he could feel a whisper of your touch, your left hand enveloped in his right. 

Sometimes, even if he didn't try at all, the memory would still come to him. Late at night, before bed. Idle moments in the station while he put on his uniform. On the way home from work. It wasn’t the kind of moment you easily forget.

"All I've ever known is you, Daichi," you'd told him. He thought it was sweet. He pulled you closer by the waist and planted a kiss on your temple. "And you're all I'll ever know," he'd chuckled in reply. 

But you just gave him a look. "I'm serious," you said, looking away from his face and fixing your gaze on the stars instead. "It's not bad," you continued. "But I can't help but wonder if there's more." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, I love you, Daichi. I've loved you since we were six years old, and you gave me a pebble from the yard outside your building because you thought it looked cool. I loved you all throughout our awkward and embarrassing junior high phases. I loved you through the times I barely got to see you 'cause you were so focused on volleyball in senior high. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I will love you tomorrow," you looked back at him. "And if the greatest thing I'll ever do with my life is love you, then my life wouldn't have been a waste. I would be happy to go on, like this, loving you forever." There were tears in your eyes. 

"I love you too," Daichi answered. But as he leaned in to give you another kiss, you pulled away. “I would be happy,” you whisper. “But I don’t know if I’ll be content.” 

"I mean... Doesn't it terrify you?" You asked him, eyes on the stars once more. "We're barely nineteen." 

Daichi didn't understand. So what if you were kids? Love didn't pick an age. Young as he was, he knew that he loved you for real, knew that he would be happy to spend the rest of his life with you. But Daichi kept silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I need space," you said. There was a tremor in your voice that he had never heard before. You shook your head, a bitter laugh falling from your lips. "I'm not like you. I don't know who I'm supposed to be, or what I'm supposed to do. Daichi, I'm nineteen." 

Daichi couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What’s age got anything to do with it?" he asked, slowly taking your hand in his. "You’re you. You are the best person I know. You are smarter than most people we know, but you never make a show of it. You are forgiving, and patient to a fault— I sometimes want to smack people because they take advantage of that.” Daichi smiled faintly. "You’re a weirdo, though. You dip your nuggets in gravy instead of the sauce, and your hands are always cold even though you wear that yellow sweater all the time. You meow back at cats when they meow at you, and you think nobody notices, but I do. And it doesn't matter, because all those things make you, you. You’re a wonderful sister, and a loving daughter, and the best friend —the best girlfriend— anyone can ever ask for. The stuff of prayers, that's who you are." 

Daichi swallowed thickly. He could feel the tears brimming. If he blinked, or took his eyes off of you, he was sure they would fall. "As for what you're supposed to do, we can figure that out together," he said. "I'll be right here, right next to you, through all of it."

"Man, I love you," you smiled at Daichi, but your eyes conveyed a different emotion. "But that's the thing. I need to figure out who I am outside of us." 

Silence. Daichi takes a breath and leans against the railing. His head was beginning to spin and tears were clouding his vision. He didn’t know what else to say. You mirrored his actions, picking at the peeling paint beneath your fingers. "I just need some space, that's all," you whispered. "Just a few weeks." 

But a few weeks turned into a few months and a few months eventually turned into a year. And then, two years. Three years. Four. You both went to university. Daichi took up a degree in social work, and fell in love with the idea of spending his life serving the community. He’d always known he was going to work in civil service— he’d told you that much, even when you were still in high school. But he developed a deeper passion for it during his university years, and he often found himself wanting to share the things he’d been learning about, with you. 

But Daichi didn’t even know what you majored in. 

It was difficult, especially in the beginning. He would spend weekends passing by places you used to go to together, hoping he’d find you there. Daichi caught himself keeping an eye out for you in the rush hour crowd, in grocery lines, at bus stops, and in cafes. He would meet with Sugawara and Asahi from time to time to catch up, and would always have to fight the urge to ask them if they knew how you were. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to tell you that he loved you, to remind you that he was waiting, and that he’d always be waiting for you. 

But love means being patient. Love means allowing the other person enough time, enough space, to maintain their own inward rhythms. In your case, Daichi wanted to let you have the time and space to discover your own rhythm, to learn and discover things just as he did. And when the time was right, he would find you again. Or you would find him. And your rhythms would no longer be out of tune. Waiting was difficult, but it was all he could do. 

These were the thoughts that ran through his head, a mile a minute, as he stood frozen across the street, watching you. His heart raced, and he wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and him. Daichi’s breath hitched. Your eyes met his, a look of surprise painted across your features. Your lips formed into a small, sheepish smile. 

Daichi smiled back, immediately raising his hand to wave. But just as quickly as his hand shot up, your eyes flickered away. You clutched your coffee and turned away, heading in the opposite direction. Daichi’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He shoved his hands inside his jacket pockets, and willed himself to go forward. 

Daichi loved you enough to keep his distance, even with the ache in his chest and the ringing in his ears. The bittersweet memory of your smile was quickly burning itself on the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what it meant, or even if it meant anything at all. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. One thing he was sure of, though, was that he loved you enough to wait. Yes, that’s it. He would wait.

[a-cluttered-gordon-freeman]

Unclouded Days, because I'm not an idiot and I definitely remembered this story exists, part 3.

Part 1 | Part 2

"If I wanted to have a family... I'd have it with Alyx... Or Barney... But for right now...."

Gordon looked up from his journal. Taking a glance at his clock, he noted the date and time. 6:37 a.m. on a cold Thursday, April 13.

It had been a whole 2 months since he last visited Alyx and Barney. Gordon could remember the chill of the incoming blizzard as he trudged through the snow, and he remembered the chill coming back home afterwards.

His cabin was a safe haven away from the chaos of the society he helped create. Gordon wanted nothing to do there. He wanted to be by himself, for all too long he had been surrounded by people and he couldn't stand it. He thoroughly enjoyed the moments spent being away from everyone, where he was on his own, doing whatever. Nobody would boss him about. He wouldn't have to fight.

Barney had brought up a good point, but by accident. Gordon had mocked Barney by making such claims as having a family. And with Barney asking if he had one, Gordon spent long nights thinking about it.

No, he didn't have one, but Gordon couldn't deny that he had thought about having one, and having some kids of his own. He was still young enough to, but with whom? Barney would say yes, he and Gordon were always intimate with each other and would be asked constantly at Black Mesa when they'd marry. But it'd rule out children, as niether of them could reproduce with each other. Alyx would be uncertain about getting married, probably, mostly because she didn't know to the fullest what it meant. And niether of them felt a strong attraction towards each other, so would it even be considered a real loving relationship?

Gordon took another look at the clock. 7:15 a.m.. Temperature dropped a few degrees in the cabin. He sighed.

Another night wasted.

Closing the journal, Gordon stood up and stretched before opening the window to let it the sun and some fresh air. He stared outside, some animals crossing in and out of his vision, the leaves from last fall stuck down under the remaining snow. It was cold out, but the kind of cold one craved for in the spring. A nice and peaceful morning with a slight chill, the forestry just now waking up with snow melting around, providing nutrients to the life nearby.

He felt tired. Not unusual, as he lost quite a bit of sleep since that week in February. But Gordon couldn't fall asleep.

It was the entire point of that journal. To write his thoughts until he felt as though he could sleep. Some nights he considered heading back over to Eli and Kliener, maybe chat a bit. But being 40-something miles away would mean he'd arrive there sometime by noon. Other nights he considered working on some projects he laid out. But that would mean Gordon would have to turn on the other lights- all that artificial light would keep him up more than the red-light alarm he used to write in his journal. More often than not Gordon would just sit at his desk, writing away from 8 in the evening to 7 in the morning. The rare nights were when he didn't write in his journal, but instead bathed in the pitch black darkness.

Writing in the journal helped though. Gordon wouldn't have to worry about making sense to anyone, as long as it made enough sense to him. No need to appropriate a sentence, give it structure. It was a place where he could write what he was feeling, with no worry of harming anyone else.

Though sometimes Gordon wished he could actually tell someone, get advice or some help. It would have been useful as hell for him.

To ask for help gave Gordon the feeling of uselessness, a feeling he had been trying to avoid hard. To be told to do a thing gave him a purpose. So he did things that made him feel useful- took care of alien enemies for those that couldn't, provided backup to those who could, saved humanity, rebuilt society. Gordon did it all. There was no way he was going to ask anyone for help. He'd feel guilty as hell.

Gordon decided that he was done thinking such thoughts. And he had also decided that he would relax with a nice, warm shower, taking some time to ease off some stress.

Silence had been filling the lab. It was as if quiet things could become quieter, if it didn't make sound then it would start making other things stop making sound.

Alyx and Barney found it uncomfortable. The silence was deafening, and they could hear their thoughts much too clearly. It also provided a sort of laziness, a feeling of boredom, to the lab. A place once bustling with life and loud noises now only inhabited by two people with nothing better to do that they hadn't done forty times before.

"What if we went out of town for a bit?" Barney broke the silence, startling Alyx, who had been slowly falling asleep.

"What do you mean? To where?" She stretched.

"To Gordon's."

"I don't know, would he even like visitors right now? We have no way of asking him."

"Surprise visit?"

"We can't ask him, Barney! We've got no way to talk to him." Alyx rested her head on the table, letting out a drowsy sigh.

"I know where he lives." Barney said, causing Alyx to look over at him. "He had told me an approximation, he lives east near the giant trees."

"In the shack?"

"Yeah."

"Barney, thats forty miles away. We'd have to start early morning to arrive at his house with some daylight left. And besides, there is no way we'd be able to spend the night there, it has four rooms- a bathroom, a tiny bedroom, a kitchen and a main room."

Silence filled the lab once more. Alyx had a point, it was already too small for one person, much more with three. And there would be no way of confirming with Gordon if they could even get there- if anyone else saw them leave, and it would be a given that many people would see them leave, then Gordon's privacy would be violated by everyone else knowing where he lived.

It'd be rude to arrive uninvited, and unpleasant if he wasn't there or was too busy to let them in.

"Can't you talk to him?" Barney stared at Alyx, who sat up with exhaustion.

"How do you think I would be capable of that?"

"With that weird vort-connection-thingy you two have."

She took a moment to think. "I'm... Not entirely sure. I don't think I can."

"Should we ask a vortigaunt?"

Gordon finished dressing and took a seat on his bed. He was disappointed. His bath hadn't helped to relieve any stress whatsoever, instead he was convinced it added more and made it worse.

Which... Isn't good when you are a sleep-deprived physicist who has just been to a version of hell and back at one moment and wiping the enemy off the face of the planet.

His clock now read 9:00 a.m. exact. He could take a walk around the forest, or maybe cook up something.

Or, instead, he could lay in bed, the window open, the covers over him. Which is what Gordon did.

It made the annoying sleeplessness much worse but one could not deny the relaxing comfort it brought. And slowly, just so slowly, Gordon began to drift off to sleep.

"You can communicate feelings and pain without words, but you cannot talk to the Freeman directly." The vorts had answered, causing a sigh from Alyx and Barney.

"Well, then, fuck how are we supposed to get him now?" Barney huffed.

"We wait until he decides to come over." Alyx replied, getting up to go back to the lab.

"Have either of you decides to meet the Freeman yourselves?" A vort inquired, walking up to Alyx and Barney.

"No." The both of them responded.

"It'd be rude to walk up to his house uninvited, seeing as others could follow us." Alyx look over at the vortigaunts, who gave the appearance of understanding.

The two left the vortigaunts and returned to their eerily quiet lab, where boredom struck again.

Gordon shot up, panting hard. Beads of sweat trailed down his face, his heart and mind racing. He glanced at the clock.

5:21 p.m. on a now warm April 13.

Gordon took a second to calm down. He couldn't remember what had caused him to be so hyped up. Was it a nightmare? Bad memory?

What ever it was, it was gone now. Gordon could be thankful for that at least.

Chest still pounding, Gordon took a second to gain his bearings and calm down. He found it extremely difficult to do such on his own. As a result, he went out on a walk. He found it best to take in the nature, listen to the trees and wildlife.

As much as Gordon would have liked to hunt, a gun would raise back past feelings of fear, anger and pain that the Resonance Cascade and the Uprising caused. He couldn't stand to hold such a weapon nowadays, the only reason he'd have one anymore is for safety purposes. But even then, Gordon would much rather fight with a knife.

Bored with his little house and, unfortunately, the forestry around him, Gordon set out to the lab. It was best for an escape, as he wasn't feeling all that great by himself.

It was daybreak by the time Gordon arrived at White Forest. He had taken some time to visit Eli and Kleiner, and had also gone for a bit of shopping in the main town. Once done with that,he made his way to the lab.

"Hey Barney."

Barney turned around and was greeted by Gordon.

"Gordon?"

"Yeah, I'd hope so. How have things been?"

Barney smiled. "Its been good. And you?"

"...not good." Gordon sighed and looked down a bit. "Haven't been getting good rest."

"Would you like to spend a few more nights here? At the lab with Alyx and I?"

"Yeah... I'd appreciate that thanks..."

Barney took Gordon's hand and led him to the lab, where Alyx greeted them both with an excited smile.

Gordon got set up in his old room again. Sitting upon his bed, he stared at the ceiling in silent contemplation. Closing his eyes, he began to silently cry, for no reason he could find.

When Alyx stepped into the room, she caught a glance of the tired and teary-eyed man. She took that as a moment to sit next to him and offer weak support.

Gordon glanced over to her and wiped off his eyes. "S-sorry..." he muttered weakly, his voice shaky as hell.

Alyx smiled. "No need to be sorry. Just let it all out."

END OF PART 3

---------

Heyo! Its yours true. I need help to try to make it towards the end by offerring your support for the story and reblogging/asking more about it/ messaging me! Rb>likes, and the reblogs offer me more motivation to continue writing the stories, and same would go for my ravenholm comics, that you can read at @returntoravenholm-awgag ! I'd appreciate all the support I can get from anyone! Thank you!

-marc

[nordleuchten]

Hello! Do you know about the relationship between Lafayette and general bernadotte? it seems like they both disliked Napoleon to some degrees. and when Lafayette was injured in the leg, it was mentioned that bernadotte visited him a lot? Were they friends?

Hello Anon,

thank you for your question. It was a bit difficult at first to assess the true extent of the relationship between La Fayette and General Jean Baptiste Bernadotte because there are not too many written accounts. Bernadotte is mentioned neither in La Fayette’s memoirs, nor in Virginie’s and Adrienne’s memoirs, nor in Cloquet’s memoirs. It also appears that no modern scholar has ever really analysed their relationship. I have quite a number of books on La Fayette but Bernadotte is mentioned in none of them.

That being said, I had a deep dive into some letters and now I feel comfortable in giving you an answer. Yes, La Fayette and Bernadotte were friends!

After having served as American ambassador to France towards the end of the French Revolution, James Monroe returned to France in 1803 to work out the details of the Louisiana Purchase with Napoléon’s government. He wrote a letter to James Madison on April 15, 1803:

I heard on my arrival that General Bernadotte who had been appointed some time before Minister to the United States, had been ordered on the 10th A to sit out immediately on his Mission. As my arrival at Havre was known him on the 9th, it might be inferred that this order was given in consequence of it. In this I was informed by General La Fayette who informed me that he had apprised Genl Bernadotte of my arrival at Havre—that I was expected here on that day; and that he had intreated him to wait untill I came.

Beside this letter, we have an entry from Monroe’s Autobiography as well. In it, we can read that:

In this interview General Lafayette communicated to Mr. Monroe an incident which excited his surprise. He informed him that General Bernadotte, who had been appointed some short time before Minister to the United States, had left town for Rochfort, the port from which he expected to sail, on the 10th in obedience to the order of his government. General Lafayette and General Bernadotte had served together in the commencement of the Revolution and were intimately acquainted with each other.

Monroe’s account attest to a friendly and respectful relationship between the two Generals but his perspective is that of an outsider looking in. Their friendship is more readily expressed in La Fayette’s own words. He wrote in a letter to James Madison on March 31, 1803:

My dear Madisson,

General Bernadotte is so gloriously introduced by his own reputation, and Character, that I shall only present him to you as my personal friend. He is of all men the one I would better like to see going to America as an ambassador, was he not also the man, whom all true and steady patriots cannot but heartily wish to keep nearer to his own country, where none surpass, and but few can equal the sincerity and steadiness of his republican civism. Madame Bernadotte accompanies him on this embassy, I hope this most amiable consort of the General, will meet from our american Ladies, the reception to which she is so well entitled. She particularly wishes to obtain the friendship of Mrs. Madisson, and I have no doubt from the Knowledge of your mutual sentiments, that the intimacy will be soon established between the two families.

La Fayette wrote the same day to Alexander Hamilton:

My dear hamilton

I would like by this opportunity to write to you a long letter, but having been Laying on my back for two months past, and being for three weeks to come, doomed to the same situation, I must confine myself to a few lines written near my bed. The particulars of the accident and his cure will be given to you by General Bernadotte, whom I must particularly introduce and his lady to Mrs. Hamilton and to you. Politics I will not dwell upon. My sentiments are so well Known to you that it were superfluous to say what I think of senatus-consulta at home, and settling colonies in North America. Yet I hope this late affair may still be arranged to mutual satisfaction, and I am sure nobody could have better personal disposition than my friend General Bernadotte, who to those high and brilliant abilities which have so much contributed to ⟨the⟩ triumph of the french arms, joins one of the most civic, generous, ⟨and⟩ candid hearts, it is possible to meet with. I Know he sets a great value by the approbation of the citizens of America, and is particularly desirous of your acquaintance, and properly sensible of its advantages.

Both of these letters are quite short and really serve no other purpose than introducing Bernadotte to various influential Americans. It should also be remembered, that La Fayette had just broken his femur, was not able to write himself and probably was half of the time in an agonising amount of pain - yet he made sure these letters were written. It is also true that Bernadotte visited La Fayette often and long while he was recuperating from the accident that lead to his broken femur. I think there were two reasons to these sick-calls. First of all, they were friends and friends visit each other when one of them is sick. La Fayette was probably bored out of his mind and thankful for every visitor and every distraction. (Visiting La Fayette also had become somewhat of a political statement). Secondly, Bernadotte was about to be send as ambassador to America and there was not better source of knowledge about America than La Fayette. Bernadotte in all likelihood learned something useful and La Fayette had something to distract himself with. A win-win situation.

On August 20, 1810 Bernadotte was elected Crown Prince of Sweden and this change in rank and his presumed distancing from republican values did not really lessen their relationship. La Fayette wrote to Thomas Jefferson on September 20, 1810:

(…) The Execution of the Nonintercourse Engagement provided for this Case is Here much depended upon—I Hope it will prove Encouraging— in the mean while we Have Endeavour’d to Avail ourselves of the Election of Bernadotte to the throne of Sweden—You Remember that in my letter of introduction to You, when He was Going to America, I did justice to His Services in and Remaining Sentiments for the Republican Cause— He Has Ever Since professed to me the Same Respect and Attachement for the United States, and when I found Him Called to be a northern king I did, with the Advice of Gal Armstrong, Claim the Exertion of those Sentiments—His Good will is Secured—How far it may Be Efficacious in Conversations Here, and through His power there, much depends on the delicacy of His Situation With the Omnipotent Ally—But when the American Government insists On the freedom of Neutral trade in the North, in their Communications At paris, it is Good to think the personal dispositions of the Boreal throne are favorable—His nomination Has Been free and Honorable to Him.

I think the fact that Bernadotte did not made it in any of the memoirs that I listed above signals that he and La Fayette were close but did not had the chance to spend a lot of time together or to experience many things together. However, when they were able to spend time together, they appear to have an immediate connection and enjoyed each other’s company quite a lot.

I hope that answered your query and I hope that you have/had a lovely day!

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

[froshele]

I've been seeing a lot of people, because of the memorial day recently, talking about old letters. I got to thinking about paper, and the quality that books and scrolls have that makes the things in them "realer", and also about my own fear and the fear in my family.

I'm afraid of writing -- specifically of personal, epistolary, and creative writing -- and ashamed, Jewishly, of that fear. I think my community of origin is too.

I never wrote anything down where anyone could find it as a child, because if they saw it they would use it to hurt me -- people laughed at stuff I wrote as a kid, and once an aunt found a short story and decided it was a cry for help, which raised such a din that I was very glad she hadn't found my diary. That there was never a diary to find.

The fear of someone else being able to touch pieces of me like that and squirrel them away to use against me later, even pieces put into stories (which are packs of lies and also the only mirrors that don't lie), has haunted me my entire life. Disclose nothing deep and real to anyone, assume suspicious intent if they ask for it, why the hell does school want writing about personal experiences anyway, are we that self-absorbed?

Apparently this is very common in circles like mine, the people whose response to the Holocaust was to dysfunctionally beg our Deity to tell us what we'd done wrong, for generations. To assume that we could have prevented it, or fixed it, or... or. I don't know how to finish that sentence.

I don't think it can be finished. We certainly haven't finished it, and we keep blaming increasingly esoteric human deeds and habits for the tragedy, which no kind or length or style of wig or skirt could ever have caused.

We know. We say atrocious things memed on by everyone else in an attempt to know something else, to pin that enormity on someone. Hasidim are a shame culture, but we also understand Jewish guilt very well.

The fear of putting anything out in the world and having it reacted to seeped into my online life, once I got just over it enough to have one. My tumblr is barren, my ao3 is picked up and dropped again like I'm trying to grab it out of a hot coal oven, my twitter is a sort of sardonic, goofy version of me that occasionally rips into serious issues but not as rippingly as I do not have the strength to do, and basically nobody knows almost anything real about me.

I never kept a diary. All my letters were always very impersonal, short, like someone would read them and come knocking down the door. Letters to family -- what the hell did I think I was hiding?

I have a weird relationship to the concept of it being a mitzvah to write a sefer Torah - you know, the implications of the Jewish reverence for the written word, for the craft of scribal work, for putting ink on paper.

The entire point is that yes, if we can touch and see our cultural legacy, so can other people, who will occasionally take it as an invitation to try to kill us. But still we write. It makes me uneasy. In some ways I am probably very like any of my very distant ancestors who objected to writing down oral Torah, and for the same reasons.

I get it. I know why. Even regular books - it's not the same to read something from a screen. You have either a pdf of The Left Hand of Darkness, or you are holding in your hand The Left Hand of Darkness, the work. The book. People talk very rarely about the print copies of books that they have as copies, as collections of bound pages, the way that they talk very rarely about humans as collections of connected tissues, although when a book is well loved and its spine is showing wear, it is very clear that that's what it is.

A history, or a story, "has" to be written in a book to be Real, in the way that a doctor is Real in the merit of her white coat more than her degree, and the way that your boomer mom gets her conspiracy theories from wacko gematria themed nonsense printed decades ago by some Soviet university. I understand. Still, it was always dangerous to be writing, and I am a coward, and I am ashamed.

I realized that the reason I'm so nervous about the fact that who I am inherently entails a reverence for the written word (alongside a kind of hesitation about it), the reason I'm afraid of the power inherent to making anything real, putting it in a form that invites people to read, is that so many people turned away from or hurt me when I was real, and that I am epigenetically primed to be very sensitive about that.

It was over just... mundane... stuff, but then we don't write mundane stuff, really.

Our public life does not admit of entire realms of human experience, and we are all of us afraid to exist in full, still huddling in corners. Because if we stand up too tall, then like any traumatized person would, our own people cut us down. Be quiet, be invisible, be small, let it pass over, let it pass over, better if I hurt you, if we hurt you, than Them.

So it's shameful, I guess, my not doing anything about that fear. My refusal to give permanence and physical space and some sort of an immanent quality to writing, about or from myself, is shameful, in light of the fact that nothing I write could possibly be as dangerous to me or as important in general as Torah, which is written about and from both Hashem and all of us.

Sofrim still write. But I guess it's because they have to.

Nothing I write could endanger me as much as their unfettered, emotionally whole existence, complete with prolific writing and creation of religious text, endangered my great-grandparents, but maybe that's it. Maybe it means something that I, as a great-grandchild of people who saw that old calamity with their own eyes, whose pain runs in my veins, could be shamed into silence and even into not writing, not bothering to be silent and then get around the silence on little hidden papers.

There was a Yiddish literature, once. You can say there still is, but it's pale and kind of consumptive and pinched, writing even when it's fiction about how things should be to prevent another Shoah and not about things as they are. Obsessing about death. Picking at scabs, even when ostensibly it's about weddings and motherhood.

Hasidic women can, mostly, absolutely afford to buy washers. My mother would come to building laundromats to read the books, because if you can read English (or Russian, or French) you can access the mental world, the living myth of people whose every positive emotion is not tainted by that terrible memory. It's nice. I read the entirety of Earth's Children as a child being kept busy while my mother read some type of awful smut in the corner. (The yentas would of course never snitch about the smut. They had dog-eared it themselves.)

Mostly everyone is reading things from before anyway, when they do read Yiddish. The things from back when people could write -- you think that's an aspersion on the quality of modern prose? It's an observation.

I get teary seeing people learn my language and publish writing in it, both because good for them and it and us, and also because I do not have the privilege of making that writing. I am carrying a kind of pain that does not admit of writing about anything worth reading. I am ashamed.

The next great Yiddish author will probably be someone who came to it fresh-faced and able to talk about loss without talking about that loss, or love without talking about lost love or about, you know, war crimes. Someone who came as a returning immigrant comes, in solidarity but removed at least a little from the calamity. They will say things that none of us can say, and we will all quietly resent them for being able to access the power and audacity to write, and maybe we will refuse to read them. That will be why, but it will anyway not be the same as if we had found the ability to write again.

What we lost, when we were silenced! I thought the fear of writing was only mine, but my grandfather was born at the end of the war, and he never writes anything real and true and of himself, either. Poetry, yes -- but not in the right language and not on the right subjects. Not on any subject that isn't, at its core, that same old pain.

I am supposed - we are all supposed, per the sentiment conveyed by the fact that it's a mitzvah to have in writing the text people want to kill us over - to write through that unease, to carry on having a legacy and a full existence anyway.

I can't. I'm a coward. We're all cowards. I'm ashamed, and afraid, and very small. There was no point to writing this except to say that I had had that thought, and that I am very, very wary of allies who say "never again" and do nothing to make that true, not even writing about it.

We're still healing -- haltingly, not knowing how, without help from more successful kindred (although even those kindred are always making movies about what we have an impulse, like dying animals, to hide away with) -- from the first one. Never again is a very heavy promise to make in the 2020s, 5780s-- I would understand if allies accepted that they have not the strength to make it, that they're stretched too thin and afraid too much of their genocide coming to them to make promises about ours.

But they do, they do say never again, and then people with none of any of these kinds of rot in their blood ignore antisemitism happening in front of them. Or they knowingly contribute to it.

I understand if intergenerational trauma makes it difficult to reach out and touch hands with other traumatized people, but I guess I'm always going to have a little bit of jealous resentment for the untraumatized. And hate -- the only hate I think I can feel is very specifically for the privileged antisemite, antiziganist, advocate of the trampling of others' human rights based on imagined danger and hateful projection.

This is a bit late for Holocaust Memorial Day, but think of your local tumblr frog the next time you punch a Nazi, or remind someone that there's no excuse not to be educated on what it takes for others to stay safe online.

Call out dog whistles when you see them. The sharks cannot be trusted when they say that they only eat one type of fish -- if we are gone, they will come next for you. Blood is blood, and sharks have to keep moving to breathe.

[wisteria-lodge]

lion primary + slightly burnt lion secondary (badger secondary model) (bird secondary model)

i hope you’re having an amazing day!! here’s my SHC dilemma:

i know my primary is lion, and it feels a little exploded, at that, but at least i know what’s up. but im still extremely confused about my secondary. i tried looking through other submissions, but i didn’t really find anything i vibed with 100%, but then again i have adhd and im really struggling going through all that text, it just kinda blurs together at some point

so, my secondary. taking the test, i always get burnt, often with a vague hint towards bird. at first i immediately adopted that and decided i was a burnt bird, but the more i go the less that feels right to me and i think it might be some sort of model.

Yeah. “doesn’t feel right.” Definitely see the Lion in your sorting.

working by elimination, im pretty certain im not a snake secondary. that ish doesn’t even sound real to me, i know there are people like this because i know a couple, but it’s just so weird to me that some people are just able to improvise so effectively, and seemingly change themselves like that, and they?? enjoy it?? it does sound dope, like i admire it, but wtf. 

Lion secondaries can get very *does not compute* when trying to get their head around Snake secondaries. I’m considering Lion for you. 

i do act differently in different situations or with different people, but i don’t think i have “personas” as much as degrees of awkwardness 

I see the burnt secondary. You’re definitely talking yourself down here. But the way you talk about “degrees of awkwardness” does make me think about the way Lion secondaries “change faces” by modulating intensity. 

depending on how much my anxiety is acting up, and the more anxious i am, the more i act like a doormat and revert to the proper manners i was taught, but like… that’s not me, and it’s not done on purpose, i don’t enjoy it. 

Looks like somebody’s got an unhealthy Badger secondary model.

it feels gross not to be able to act like myself, whatever the hell that is.

And you didn’t vibe with the Lion descriptions? This is the first time I’m reading though this and… very interested to get to the part where you talk about why you think you’re not a Lion. 

im also convinced im not a bagder - my mother is, and there are a lot of those in my community, so i was raised thinking that was the best way to be, an ideal to work towards, but it’s just not comfortable for me, i don’t wanna do it.

Yeah, this would that  unhealthy Badger secondary model you were talking about. ^

i don’t even think i *can* do it. i mean, “showing up and doing the work” is pretty hard with adhd, and not even the most efficient way of getting stuff done (at least for me), and thinking of the group and what i can do in that group is annoying. also i get that asking for help is important sometimes but it still feels like that’s just admitting i can’t figure out how to do it myself, which, yikes (don’t come at me i know it’s unhealthy)

Hey, breathe. It’s okay. Nobody is going to make you be a Badger secondary. Clearly you’ve spent enough time struggling under the weight of a model that doesn’t suit you, and now you’re pushing back against everything Badger extra hard. 

id rather find a group im a good fit for instead of molding myself to please others. 

See, that’s an exaggerated, caricatured way of conceptualizing how a Badger secondary works… but I’m not surprised that you think about it that way.

whatever i do, it needs to come from me.

… you’ve got a very loud Lion secondary. 

anyway im somewhere between lion and bird, and at first i thought i was a bird because i do in fact fricking love learning everything i can, i wouldn’t naturally call it “collecting”, i’m just doing whatever’s interesting in the moment

You mean you learn by improvising? :) Like a Lion? :) 

but sure, why not - i like collecting languages, knowledge about different cultures, books, music, space, countries, medicine, anything and everything, and i sometimes spend hours researching random stuff that im never actually gonna use “just in case im stranded in the wilderness and need to make soap” you feel? but it’s not actually because i think it might be useful (though i do get random bouts of anxiety over not knowing how to do certain stuff “in case” even though the probability id need them is infinitesimal).

Loving knowledge does not make you a Bird secondary. I’m hearing you talk about about a thing you do for fun, and - this is key - a thing you use as  a mechanism to cope with anxiety. ADHD can sometimes make you feel very scattered, going too fast, and your Bird is giving you [the illusion of] control. And I’m not going to knock that. The illusion of control is important. 

i just like knowing things and being able to use those things to do stuff. i wanna be “that guy” you can come to with the most obscure problem and they’d have some way of dealing with it. doesn’t that sound pretty bird?

Okay. Here’s the deal. You like Bird secondaries. You think they’re cool, and badass. Maybe you’d like to be one. But I’m still not at all convinced you are. I haven’t heard you use it to solve problems. 

but i can’t actually do that stuff. i think i used to, when i was a teenager? but depression and undiagnosed adhd kinda kicked my ass, among a few other things, and now i don’t really have the brain power for it and i feel like im not actually able to learn things as well, or to even think straight.

Wow. That is some burnt secondary talk. I can’t do things. 

(I promise you, people with ADHD have absurd brain power, and can learn things crazy well, although not in the same way as neurotypicals. You are right about not thinking straight, which I am interpreting as “in a straight line.” ADHD people think in webs and corkscrews and I love it.) 

 or if i did, i can’t learn as *many* things as i need to feel accomplished? which idk what you think but it kinda just sounds like burnt bird to me. 

Feeling like the secondary you have isn’t good enough can be a Burnt thing... but feeling like you need to manifest a specific secondary *more* (which is what this feels like) is usually a sign of a model. 

but here’s the thing. all of those sound real nice. and cool. and a good way of doing things, maybe even the “right” way, even though i know that’s subjective. but lion just feels more comfy, and idk if that’s because im a burnt bird modeling lion or if it’s smth else.

… you mean… like being… a Lion?

cause the “collecting skills and knowledge to solve problems” thing sounds cool, but it’s actually more just the first part that i vibe with? the part where i get to learn stuff! but when actually solving problems, i don’t usually think too long, i just vibe. i see where my instinct is taking me and i apply reason *after* that, or like, as a secondary, support thing. im not a dumbass either, im good at puzzles and logic problems, i can totally think things through and use my skills! but that’s not really how i approach problem-solving. i just jump into the situation and see what part of it is closest and start there, or what’s convenient, or what just feels right or nicer or whatever.

This is a perfect description of a Lion secondary with a supportive Bird model. Like a LOT of neurodivergent people (hi!) you built yourself some scaffolding using the Bird toolbox.

and on one hand it could be that im not confident in my skillset enough to do things the bird way, but on the other hand, thinking back to my childhood and teenage years, when i had better executive skills and i wasn’t as completely scatterbrained as i am I now (i was, but not as bad in some ways), i still did this? like, all of my major life decisions where made on the spot based on instinct and nothing else

I’m definitely seeing the Lion primary come though as well. 

whenever i have a problem of the interpersonal sort i just face it and talk to the person and don’t bother hiding or sugarcoating things even if it means hurting that person because i don’t want to lie or come off as something i’m not, when i need to work on a project i don’t bother planning, i just jump in and a strategy forms in an organic way as i go, you know what i mean? isn’t that what this “charging” business means?

Yes.

anyway i have no idea which one is a model and which one is actually mine. i love learning things but i don’t care about actually using them. i mean i like it, of course, but it’s whatever. planning is tedious and it kinda gives me validation because im meant to be “smart” and i guess planning is what smart people do, but it’s annoying and nothing ever goes exactly to plan anyway so you just have to pause and plan again or whatever, and that’s just so boring and frustrating??

I get that you like Bird secondaries, and I get that the picture of “smart person” in your head looks like a Bird secondary but just like… come on…

why not just do the damn thing?? and then what you have to do will be obvious anyway?? and sure, if you planned ahead, maybe you’d already know what you need to do and you’d have prepared it and you’d do it better, but who’s got the time for that?? i can’t use my brain like that! i need to live the thing before it actually feels real enough for me to think about solving it.

I have never read anything more Lion secondary in my entire goddamn life.

i hope this actually made sense and i gave enough relevant information, my head kinda feels jumbled right now. i mean it makes sense to me but i don’t know how this reads from an outside perspective. maybe i should have planned this like an essay or whatever lmao

thanks a lot for answering these & running this blog!!! it’s dope and you give really good insights and you’re just a super cool person!

<3 <3 <3