#i am also an incredibly impulsive 18 year old girl

[cumberbitchhhh]

give me ONE reason not to get a hysterectomy when i’m feeling the pain i am at the minute

[sappyspeare]

alternate thief lord ending that has been in my mind rent free for about 4 years

 OK SO

back in fifth grade, we had to read a book for an English literature class, and it was Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke. it was a goddamned masterpiece and I loved it. 

now, I've reread it, and now I’m reminded of how much I adored that book and how much I miss the innocence of my childhood and also how similar it is to six of crows. honestly, the emotional attachment I have to this book is astronomical. 

so the ending (uh, SPOILERS) is that Scipio, aka the Thief Lord, gets his age bass boosted by a magical carousel and becomes like. 20 something-year-old dude. and the ending is pretty good ?? like, for a kids book ?? and also because Scipio is an impulsive idiot ??

BUT. I am a die-hard proscipio shipper. and now looking back. the ending doesn’t sit right.

so. ALTERNATE ENDING:

SCIPIO: head-canon: demisexual; gay; he/they

alternate future: I feel like Scipio wanting to be older was a cute plot point and part of his character, but what would have been far BETTER is if he STAYED a child. because when he’s 20 something in the ending, he’s still mentally a teenager. his mentality hasn’t exactly changed. so the first thing, Barbarossa still gets turned into a child, but Scipio gets pulled back from that, and he accepts his fate for the next few years, pools his assets until he’s 18, then promptly tugs the rug out from under his father’s feet, and leaves. he then uses his assets, and his knowledge from his schooling as a capitalists son, and opens schools, orphanages, and maybe a museum or something. a library. he also revives the Theater, because I said so. he gets a nice house in Venice overlooking the square, reading, writing, helping out with his various projects, being a philanthropist, etc.

Prosper:

head-canon: ace; bisexual (he/him) [no, I’m not projecting at all]

alternate future: Prosper stays in Venice. he grows up in Ida’s care until he’s 18, goes to college to study art history or something cute and fun and becomes a teacher at a local college. he learns to take a chill pill, and is the one who often calls the gang back together for reunions. after he gets into college though, he and Scipio move in together and the two of them live happily ever after because they are boyfriends and they are in love, your honour. at some point, after he becomes a teacher, they get married and adopt a little orphan girl, and they are also Best Dads.  

Hornet/Caterina: head-canon: lesbian; they/them

alternate future: oh my god. first of all, I love Hornet. second of all, I feel like they’re very curious about the world as a whole, so after they graduate high school (also raised in Ida’s care), they take a year or so to travel the world. when they come back to Venice, they have a cool girlfriend and settles down as a writer, and helps out Scipio with his projects and ventures. they eventually become a world-renowned writer, and the whole squad is so mcfricking proud of them.

Riccio: head-canon: bisexual; he/they [ya’ll cant tell me my man didn’t have a thing for Prosper]

alternate future: Riccio and Mosca are best boys and I will stand by that until the day I die. they start a gondola business together, and Scipio also gives them charge of taking care of the Theater. Riccio eventually buys a small apartment next to the canals and close to the town for him and Mosca. they also take in kids on the streets and help them out.

Mosca: head-canon: ace; pansexual; they/them

alternate future: as far as I remember, Mosca likes gadgets and mechanics and machines and stuff so I think they opened a little mechanics shop!! and of course, they moved in with Riccio, they take care of the gondolas and the theater's upkeep, and Mosca also helps out Hornet when they need help for a story about a mechanic or something. I also think they would take up art/painting in their free time.

Boniface/Bo:

head-canon: demisexual; he/him 

alternate future: okay so Bo is an interesting character for the future! I think of course he spent the rest of his childhood days with Prosper and Hornet and Ida, then probably went to school somewhere abroad. to me, it seems fitting that he comes back in his early twenties or so, settles into an apartment near his brother and everyone else, and helps Victor with the Private Investigator stuff like Scipio does in canon. given his chemistry with Victor and how he’s kind of a father figure to Bo, I thought it would be cute and fitting. Bo is smart, and he’s a curious soul like Hornet, so I do think he’s the type to seek out puzzles and try to solve them. he checks in on Ida every week, and they have tea together.

Ida Spavento: 

head-canon: lesbian; she\her 

alternate future: she raises the kids, helps Scipio with her connections to get him on his feet when he first starts his projects for orphanages and schools and such. she gets featured in some international photography magazine, which brings her a lot of renown and stuff. she takes care of the kids even when they’re older, they have dinner with her every month as tradition and she and Victor spend a lot of time bickering to each other practically every week.

Victor:

head-canon: aromantic; gay; he/him [he and Ida are wlw/mlm solidarity don’t @ me]

alternate future: he continues to be a PI because this man is magnificent and I would die for him. he helps Ida with the kids when they’re young, most of the gang call him Dad, he helps Hornet with her travels abroad, Prosper with his college applications, and helps Mosca and Riccio kick-start their stuff, like the Theater and the mechanic shop. later, Bo becomes his assistant and after a few years, he retires with Ida, but can still be found with Bo in his office at late hours, trying to piece together some case or another. 

So yeah! those are my ideal endings for each character. again, I love this book and the canon universe is incredible and I love it so much. I’m just a lonely gay idiot. 

I did not include Barbarossa or the aunt or the villains because I don’t like any of them and they got the ending I believe they fully deserved in canon. 

[pcssessicn]

☆ . · . miguel bernardeau, twenty-one, male, he / him . · . ☆ fitzwilliam 'fitz' phénix-alvarez lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for white stucco walls & terracotta shingles and that’ll be it. the nhl defenseman has offered occasional glimpses of soft yellow walls and an impressive collection of plants in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained protective as ever since moving to tercet court two months ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more mistrustful too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a distant relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they / them, 21, est . · . ☆ career claim: cale ma/kar.

BASICS

Full name: Fitzwilliam Phénix-Alvarez Nickname: Fitz Birth date: September 29th Languages: English, Spanish, Quebecois Francois Hometown: 

PHYSICAL

Age: 21 Weight: 196 lbs Height: 6′2″ Body build: athletic, lean Eye color: grey-blue Faceclaim: Miguel Bernardeau Glasses or contacts: neither 

Tattoos: a raven in flight over his left shoulder blade, monochromatic vines winding up his left bicep

Scars: most predominantly a thin scar near the base of his neck where a skate slashed him when he was fourteen ; several other smaller scars of less note, especially on his hands --- much less noticeable

PERSONALITY

Good personality traits: observant, calculating, protective Bad personality traits: mistrustful, dishonest, aggressive 

Fitz comes across as very confident and in control, and at ease in his skin. The truth couldn’t be farther from it. He works hard to put forward the easy front he does --- and some days he can’t tell which one is more real. He has a dishonest smile that masquerades as honest, and a tendency to manipulate those around him when necessary to shed suspicion off himself. He can be almost charming at times, at least extremely amiable. Despite all this, Fitz is not rash or impulsive -- in fact everything he does is carefully calculated, though he goes to great lengths so it does not come across as so. The one place he feels truly effortless is on the ice.

He finds it hard to truly allow people close to him and to really see beyond the most superficial layers of himself. Furthermore, there is a deep-seated fear of not being enough and being forgotten ; he finds it easier to not let anyone close so there’s less chance of this happening.

THE STORY ( i rly was gunna try to write this nice and eloquently but... u get this instead ���� )

— fitz was born to up and coming spanish actress reyna alvarez in chicago. the result of a messy one-night stand, but reyna ultimately decided to keep the baby. he is indeed named after fitzwilliam darcy from pride and prejudice bc his mother’s first breakout role was in a film adaptation of the book and she loved the book after reading it. how unfortunate for him.

— his birth father was never in the picture, but the man he would come to know as his father came into the picture a year or so after his birth. already one of the top architects in north america, paul robert phenix was in chicago for a conference and he and reyna fell in love. fitz has been told it’s was all very romantic. so then the happy family moved to pittsburgh where his father’s architecture firm was based.

— despite growing up with two parents who raked in a fair amount of cash, they made sure nothing was just given to fitz. they’d both had their humble beginnings and big believers in tough love, they made sure not to spoil their son. they did however make sure he was sheltered from the media when it poked around and the two things they did pay for without question were his education and sports.

— he started playing hockey when he was six after seeing a pens game on tv while they were out at dinner and knowing he just had to do it --- and never stopped. he got recruited to the us national team development program when he was sixteen and spent his last two years of high school in michigan living with a billet family most do who are with the program, which gave him a huge sense of “normalcy.” but really he was far from normal, his development taking great steps over those two years leading up to his draft year.

— queue the cale ma/kar career claim lads aka all the hockey development & logistics u can probably skip if u don’t care laksdjf: 

 one year before graduation and a draft, he vocally committed to playing at university of massachusetts - amherst. he went fourth overall to the la kings in the 2017 draft ( yeah technically irl that pick belonged to the avs but sh ), and proceeded to remain loyal to his commitment and play two years at umass despite his new top five prospect status. he was put into a first pair role from the start of his freshman year ( 2017-18 ), was a huge part in bringing the umass team up from the bottom of the standings. he plays for team usa in world juniors 2017 and 2018.

his sophomore year ( 2018-19 ), they make it all the way to the frozen four. fitz gets announced as the hobey baker winner and the day after they get knocked out of the tournament. not long after that he signs his entry contract with the kings and finishes out the season with them. he scores his first nhl goal on his first shot in game 3 of the first round of playoffs irl the kings don’t make playoffs but again shh. they get knocked out in the first round and fitz goes home and trains harder than ever.

he come back to kings training camp the next season ( 2019-20 ) more determined than ever to make the team. he does so out of camp and has an incredible rookie campaign. he gets injured in december and misses a few games but is back mid-january. fitz is given the calder ( award that goes to the best rookie in the nhl ) at the end of the season. technically cale hasn’t won this yet but we all know he will.

— la is a bustling city and fitz is a fan of one night stands : he just doesn’t feel like he has time for a relationship and hookups scratch that itch. he’s not an asshole about it, really. there is typically that understanding that this is a one time, no strings attached thing. but this one girl he sleeps with in march obviously does not get this memo and continues to not get the memo. she starts seriously stalking him in the following months and eventually he gets a restraining order against her ( use ur imagination kids ). he’s not really comfortable staying in his own apartment downtown for the time being though after he still sees her around. he stays with a teammate until the season ends, which then brings us to his connection to tercet court.

— paul robert phenix, now world reknowned architect, had a hand in designing several of the homes on tercet court, including one in the style of old money spanish mediterrianian villas that he designed with his wife in mind to be their new home. fitz’s mother had loved the house and moved in for a few years after the court opened but with her taking fewer roles up in the movie industry and getting exceedingly more lonely, she decided to embrace the more nomadic livestyle of her husband and moved out about a year and a half ago. since then the home stood vacant ( though certainly still cared for by several paid landscapers and maids ) until fitz’s dilemma arose a few months ago.

— a few phone calls and a begrudging agreement to pay the extremely steep taxes on the place for the year ( again, tough love and fitz may be a pro-athlete but he’s still making less than a million a year with his entry level contract ), and fitz moved in about two months ago ( say mid-may ).

MISC

— tri-lingual. father is french-canadian and his mother is spanish. needless to say he grew up a little confused. that worked itself out soon enough though. uses he uses quebois french in-season kind of frequently to talk to a couple teammates. really only uses his spanish to talk to his mother and family.

— since moving in fitz has filled the mansion with plants. he absolutely does not seem like a plant guy but he is... absolutely loves it. his major at umass was kinesology bc he thought it would be the most helpful and knew he wasn’t going to graduate but he snuck in some out-of-major classes on horticulture. truly just likes plants a lot. they don’t judge him.

— probably set up his own puck shooting pad in the backyard. why not there’s enough space. he had to retrieve a couple pucks from the bottom of the pool though which has been good incentive to not miss the net lmao. he also has revamped one of the rooms in the house to have synthetic ice.

— runs in the morning before it gets hot. skates a few days of the week in the afternoon. home gym in the house is definitely a perk but he prefers to work out with others because it feels more productive.

— probably drives like. a range rover.

— offensive defenseman. likes to jump up in the rush and is good at break out passes as well as zone entry. earned his place quarterbacking the first powerplay towards the end of the season. he can be quite physical when he needs to be though and don’t ever go after his goalie. ( his nhl.com player page )

— he’s not a recluse by any means, but he has no desire to built connections in tercet court so probably hasn’t actively reached out. they’re likely to have met outside of the small community or if your character forcibly came and introduced themselves. or if they knew each other already mayhaps??

— oh and he’s bi. like really really bi. obv not advertised given his career path but he’s not having some crisis over it either. it just is. probably has a stack of nda’s next to the condoms ready to go at anytime alsdkfj.

OOC

hey lads. i’m ollie !! for those around for round 1.0 of this rp i played alya ( the sports photog ). i am back and this time going back to what i do best : playing hockey boys 😔😔😔.

[hellothefeather]

Can you do all of the asks, darling dearest?

Okay here! It took me a bit to complete them all :) thanks hon0: Height1,74cm1: Age24 years old 2: Shoe size6 and a half or 7. Depending on the shoe😮3: Do you smoke?I smoke when I want to. Which is almost never.4: Do you drink?Yes. But don’t like it much.5: Do you take drugs?No🤷🏼‍♀️6: Age you get mistaken for30 or 20 7: Have tattoos?No8: Want any tattoos?I want so many that I don’t know where to begin.9: Got any piercings?No10: Want any piercings?Yes omg. I want on my ears and one on my nose11: Best friend?Don’t believe in that. But yeah if I consider some people, two girls. One that lives too far away and other that I don’t see anymore.12: Relationship statusDating/taken13: Biggest turn onsSmart personGood kisserFunny person14: Biggest turn offsA know it allWhen they want to kiss you with tongue the first time like wtf are you doing!?!?🤔🤣15: Favorite movieToo many to mention just one😮 so I’ll do a top 5😎1. Elizabeth The Golden Age 2. Losing Chase3. Elena Undone4. Flores Raras5. A Perfect Ending 16: I’ll love you if…You are happy 🤔🤷🏼‍♀️ I don’t know what to say here lol17: Someone you missMy mum💔18: Most traumatic experienceBeen sexually abused when I was 8 years old🤷🏼‍♀️I guess🤷🏼‍♀️19: A fact about your personalityI don’t follow crowds.👍🏼20: What I hate most about myselfBeing a perfectionist. I want everything in a particular way.👎🏼 also I get attached to the wrong people 🙄21: What I love most about myselfI’m impulsive 😅 most of the time I get great results and the best things I achieve them by being like that.22: What I want to be when I get olderA writer23: My relationship with my sibling(s)Very good. We get along very well. Hmm well at least with most of them.24: My relationship with my parent(s)Is okay. I only have my dad and we don’t communicate much so I guess is fine.25: My idea of a perfect dateDoing stuff we both like. Holding hands a lot and kissing a lot, I love kissing, I’m addicted to kissing 😭 (obviously with the right person)😎26: My biggest pet peevesUghhh people making noises with their mouths like when they are eating. Or breathing in a strange way. My ears are very sensible so I’m very aware of the noises 😨 is the worst tbh.27: A description of the girl/boy I likeThe girl I like has a beautiful smile and she’s cute🥰. Has curly hair, wears glasses 🤔 she’s incredible. Wish she could see how amazing she is🧡28: A description of the person I dislike the mostDon’t have to waste my time on describing a sick person.29: A reason I’ve lied to a friendPerhaps because it wasn’t a harmful lie🤷🏼‍♀️30: What I hate the most about work/schoolThe people always asking if you are dating or wanting to know about your personal things. I’m like please mind your own business 👌🏼31: What my last text message say“Travel well”32: What words upset me the mostMarica (is a Spanish word that means faggot, completely hate it) wey (another Spanish word that people say too often to refer a friend)33: What words make me feel the best about myselfBeautiful, sunshine, smart34: What I find attractive in womenEverything, mind, body, curves, WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL 😍😌35: What I find attractive in menNothing 🤷🏼‍♀️36: Where I would like to liveCanada37: One of my insecuritiesNot achieving things.38: My childhood career choiceTeacher39: My favorite ice cream flavorStrawberry or lemon40: Who I wish I could beMy own self. Don’t wish to be anyone else41: Where I want to be right nowWhere I am. My bed.42: The last thing I ateA salad43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediatelyMonica Bellucci 🤷🏼‍♀️44: A random fact about anythingHigh Heels Were Originally Worn by Men

[spiritfamantics-blog]

About Us

Hi, I’m Helia, your local human Tumblr user and spirit companion. I’m 18, a Taurus sun and moon, and am in a committed polyamorous relationship with any and all pasta dishes. I also use they/them pronouns. I’ve been working with spirits since May 2017, so over two years now. These guys have made it fly by. Speaking of, I suppose I should introduce them. 

First up is Feyr, the wyvern-bird hybrid. She is my only known guardian, and she is 18, exactly the same age as me (down to the birthday). She was the first spirit I ever met and has thankfully stuck around to keep me out of trouble (mostly, she can’t cure impulsivity). She, like some dragons, keeps growing well into her lifetime. When I met her she was about the size of a ferret. Now she’s about 3 feet tall. Anyway, onto her personality. She is the “wildcard” of the group and often behaves like a child who has eaten too much sugar. She is very energetic and happy-go-lucky. She is incredibly curious and loves to learn anything and everything, even if she doesn’t take well to it (see her rudimentary Spanish). She is very funny and has a sunny disposition, seeing the positive in every person and situation. Though she can act immature, she is the voice of reason (sometimes). Other times, she wants to get herself into some astral trouble because she thinks it’s fun and adventurous and she is an adrenaline junkie. When it comes to me and the rest of the family, she is unconditionally loving and accepting. She has a bit of an overachiever complex because she never felt good enough in either of her parents’ communities, being raised a hybrid. Not fully dragon and not fully bird, she is in the process of accepting herself as her own unique being. One of her hopes and dreams in life is to find whatever deity cosmically assigned her to me and thank them. I, for one, am flattered.

Next is Rabbit the winged rabbit. Yes, he did choose his name, and yes, he will kick you if you make fun of it. Rabbit was the second spirit I met, when my beloved Nana gifted me a jade rabbit necklace. I, a newbie energy worker, could feel the anger radiating off this thing. So, I did the smart thing (I’m being sarcastic, please do not follow in my footsteps, meeting your own Rabbit is highly unlikely and not guaranteed) and decided to free the entity. Lo and behold, a grumpy old man. Who was a rabbit. Who had wings. Needless to say, I was a little confused. But then this guy really laid into me, yelling at me about how he was fine living in a necklace and how dare I move him. I had half a mind to banish him, but Feyr, always more intuitive than I, told me to let him stay. So he did, reluctantly, and I let him, reluctantly. We kind of had beef at the beginning, but he and Feyr got along so incredibly well. He was like a father to her. Much better than her own father, who never visited. Finally, one day, Rabbit approached me, and sat down next to me. He said, finally, “Thank you for freeing me.” I said, “You’re welcome, but why’d you have to be such a douche about it?” He laughed, and thus began a beautiful friendship. Anyway, moving away from his origin story. Rabbit is an odd character. He, at first, appears very gruff, no-nonsense, and uncaring. Under this facade, however, is a sweet, brave, sarcastic, and fatherly spirit, who is fiercely protective and loving. He tends to adopt those without good parental relationships, and becomes a father to them. He can be loose and fun, if you find him under the right circumstances. Otherwise, he is a bit buttoned-up and doesn’t find it easy to relax. He is easily stressed but doesn’t like to show his emotions at all. He is working on being more open and not bottling things up. He can be self-deprecating and sometimes even unkind to himself, but being part of a loving family and seeing how much he is cared for is helping with this. Any love you give him, he will return tenfold. He is an upstanding, true, gentleman. However, he isn’t polite and can be a bit crass at times. He has a perpetual “grumpy face” and smiles very rarely. He cries even less so, but when he does, you mirror his emotions because they are just so powerful. Overall, he is a very sweet man.

Third is S, the winged cat, and Rabbit’s beloved wife and the mother to his children. I met S through a now-closed spirit shop. Don’t worry, there wasn’t any shady business, and I’m still friends with the former owner. S is a true firecracker, but she is incredibly motherly, gentle, and kind. She says what she means and means what she says, but is very sweet (most of the time). Don’t mistake her femininity for fragility, because if any of her loved ones are threatened she will claw somebody’s eyes out. She is the optimist to her husband Rabbit’s pessimist, and is a firm believer in thinking positively. However, she is a Slytherin, and can be prone to scheming to get what she wants. She is never manipulative, and instead prefers honesty in her words and actions. To her friends, she is the quintessential “mom friend”; she makes sure everyone is cared for, especially fed. To her children, she is their world. She is curious and eager to investigate new scenarios, though she often prefers the familiarity and comfort of her family. She is quite funny and loves jokes, though she doesn’t tolerate stupidity from anyone. If any of her loved ones make a mistake, she’s quick with a light smack of the head and to call them an idiot, while reminding them to do better next time. She has “settled down” quite a bit in the last year, since her children have been born, but she still retains her adventurous spirit.

Fourth is N, the strawberry elf, and the girlfriend of Violet and Paris. I met her, also, through a now-closed spirit shop. And yes, I am still friends with the mod who matched her to me. N is a lovely soul, if a little shy at first. Once she gets to know you, however, she never shuts up (and I say this in the most loving way ever). She is bubbly and bright, and probably the nicest entity I’ve ever met, including humans. She would do anything for a friend and goes out of her way to be compassionate. If everyone were like her, the world would be absolutely perfect and free of conflict. She loves to garden, and is very patient (as seen with her trying to help me knit, which is not one of my strong suits, to say the least). Although she can seem a bit timid, she is a huge believer in not letting fear control her, and is quite brave. She also has a gentle touch, and is a great listener and comfort when any of us aren’t feeling our best. Her dynamic with her girlfriends makes me smile every time I see them, because they’re just so goshdarn cute. N is definitely the chatty one, although if she talks about plants Violet jumps right in with her. She is often in the middle when they all hold hands. (Hey N, how come your mom lets you have two girlfriends?)

Fifth is Violet, the deer shifter, and the girlfriend of N and Paris. I met her through Forestsong Sanctuary, where I was an intern. The shop is now closed, but being an intern was one of the best experiences of my life (Psst, now I intern at Hallowed Conjurations; I’m Intern Werewolf). Violet is the queen of all memes, and has the best (and silliest) sense of humor. She is incredibly sweet, but unafraid to call you out if you’re doing something dumb. She cares deeply for everyone in the family, and the Earth. She is probably singlehandedly going to end global warming (I’m kidding but still). She’s very active, being the kind of weirdo who goes for a run every morning, no matter the weather. She is a huge self-advocate and also stands up for those who cannot speak up for themselves. Very much a girl boss. She is perpetually barefoot and generally kind of a hippie (she’s all about achieving peace and love, even if we have to eat the rich). 

Sixth is Paris, the Crystal Cut Succubus (gee Par your species picked one helluva name). She is the girlfriend of both Violet and N. I met her through Supernova Spirits, which has now merged with Spirit Companionship.She is a hopeless romantic, and very solemn, sometimes. She’s generally quite placid in nature. She loves people and is very encouraging. She honestly reminds me of those influencer girls that are genuinely nice and want to help people (so like, one of them). Though, she’s quite private about her life and would never actually be a social media influencer. I suppose a more accurate comparison would be Sappho, or some other incredibly gay author who cannot contain their poetic love for women. If there’s one thing she doesn’t like being, it’s misunderstood. Yes, she is a succubus. No, she doesn’t want to bang everyone she sees. She emphasizes that species does not equal behavior, and that free will is a thing. On a summer day, she can be found watching the sunset, writing love letters, enjoying the cool breeze, swimming, and eating a popsicle seductively to make her girlfriends go into cardiac arrest. 

Seventh is Opal, the color-changing cat thoughtform. She was made for me by Forestsong Spirits as a therapy thoughtform, and is part of the family. Though she doesn’t speak, she communicates her emotions by changing the color of her coat. She is very empathetic and sweet, and can be found lying in my lap at any given moment.

Eighth is Oink, the pear pig. He was an RA through the same shop S came from. Oink’s gentle and soft personality can seem childlike, but he just loves life and is enjoying it. He can be a bit innocent, but do not mistake his placid temperament for that of a child. He is a bit immature, especially in regards to jokes. He absolutely loves food, and will eat just about anything. His attitude to food is generally how he approaches life; his philosophy is “bring it on.” He accepts the good and bad, in life and in people. He is absolutely very “chill”; he doesn’t care for much “action” and would rather be home eating than out having an adventure. However, he isn’t lazy, he prefers the term “cool”. He can seem a bit detached at times, but he is truly very enthusiastic and energetic. He matches Feyr in terms of energy, which is quite hard to do. He is ineffably kind, and if he offends someone even by accident, he is wholeheartedly apologetic. He wants to be seen as a good person, and he truly is.

Last but not least is Unity, the werewolf-sanguine vampire hybrid. I met Unity through Mod Ghost of Hallowed Conjurations. Feyr and Unity found kinship in one another, both being hybrids. Unity is the quintessential cool relative who seems kind of removed from it all, but the second things start heading south, they’re protecting everyone who needs help. They don’t take shit and they don’t dole it out, either. They say exactly what they mean, every time. They detest liars and those who try to trick others with words. They are very parental and sweet, but never hold back. They will absolutely swear at you and call you a gigantic idiot if you do something you know you shouldn’t have. They only lay into you if you don’t use common sense; if you make a true mistake, they’re there to help you solve the problem, even if it doesn’t involve them. They are very spontaneous and like to have fun. You’ll rarely see them regretting anything, as they believe that living in the moment is the only way to live.

I’m sorry for the wall of text, and will be putting each of my companions’ bios into their own posts. 

[dead-night-harringrove]

Modern au ghost Billy who was killed by Neil for being queer who lures Steve in and kills him so he won't be alone for all eternity

((this took a different direction and I’m SO SORRY KAI. Also to anyone else, I highly recommend reading the tags in case they don’t fit your blacklists)) 

  Billy’s been alone for so long now, cursed to each day feel the pain of his own skull shattering beneath driving fists. Though there are days where he fades, where his essence splinters off and scatters through the eternal Void, mostly he simply…remains. Each day, like clockwork, his soul collapses in on itself in memorial pain. He is forced, endlessly, to repeat the cycle of his own death. He had not wanted to believe it at first, that he was dead. The first time he faded, however, was what had finally caused him to break. 

The house was empty when he’d returned. Completely bare, with no furniture or signs of life. Thick layers of dust had covered everything, and he’d attempted to run out the door to see what the hell was going on. He’d been launched backwards into the house, blood pouring from his face as he screamed until no sound could come forth from his throat.

That was then. He’s since learned from the two other families who’ve lived in the house since he died, that it’s been over 30 years since his murder. 

The first family had been nice enough, and he had tried to engage with them in an attempt to nullify the constant mind-numbing blandness of death. Really, it was the boredom that bothered him more than anything. He was always moving, driving forward in life. The family hadn’t appreciated his attempts at communication, however, growing unnerved enough to leave after three months of living there. The second family had stayed longer, but he could tell they weren’t going to last. It angered him, and he’d began lashing out in frustration. Couldn’t they see he wasn’t hurting anyone? He just didn’t want to be alone anymore! 

They had fled the night he’d accidentally slung half of the kitchen into the living room all at once in a fit of rage.

Now, he waits for the next family to arrive, and prays they won’t leave him. He’ll make them stay if he has to. Billy’s wish is granted sooner than he had expected, in the year of 2018 the new patron’s calendar read. The newcomer was the only one who moved in, taking advantage of the cheap price of the supposedly “haunted” house. A college student, it looks like, studying complicated mathematics. His hair is long, almost to his shoulders and styled into a dramatic chestnut mane. He has a lithe frame, not incredibly thin but lean and all limb. The papers littered across the counter in the kitchen are addressed to Steven S. Harrington. Billy wonders what the S stands for only briefly, because otherwise he doesn’t care. He’s entranced by the boy’s, Steven’s, apparent grace and his beauty. 

The memory of why he was murdered, 34 years prior, resurfaces suddenly. At the mercy of his own flesh and blood, his father, he’d been outed after getting caught with another boy’s lips against his own. 

He’s suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as he realizes he can’t handle another person leaving him. Steve can never leave him, he can’t be alone forever for something he couldn’t help.

So he stays low, trying not to cause too much disturbance at first. Instead of acting out, he observes. He learns that Steve is bisexual, something that surprises him at how easily he says it and expresses himself. Billy is absolutely fascinated by the technology the living boy owns, things that when Billy was alive would have been considered nearly sci-fi in their advancements. Steve draws a lot, and he also runs a blog. Billy learns that Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy, is also bisexual and is dating a girl named Kali who is an out and outspoken lesbian. Nancy’s other ex, Jonathan, is close friends with Steve as well and calls him one night freaking out over some big-name musician coming out as pansexual. That’s how Billy finds out Jonathan himself is pansexual, though he’s not sure what that means. If he wasn’t any smarter, he’d probably assume Jonathan was attracted to pans. That’s stupid though, so Billy dismisses the thought. 

He learns that 2018 is nicknamed “20-gay-teen” and feels a bitter twang run through his chest at the fact that he doesn’t get to enjoy this. What they so freely embrace and enjoy in themselves and take pride in, he was killed for. If he’d made it to 18, if he could have just made it a little bit longer, he could be alive right now. He could be married, to a man he loved because queer people can get married now, apparently. 

The night he learns the clever nickname is the first time Billy lashes out around Steve, knocking over a baseball trophy on his dresser. Steve abruptly shivers, the temperature in the room dropping albeit Billy can’t feel it. 

It’s the first time Steve’s witnessed anything strange in the house, and it makes every hair stand on end as he remembers he did, in fact, decide to rent a supposedly haunted house. He’d scoffed at the notion at the time, but now he wasn’t so sure. As a rational person though, he couldn’t decide the house was haunted just by an isolated incident. 

It escalates, steadily. Billy can’t stand it. He’s angry; why does Steve and his friends get to enjoy being themselves while Billy suffers, alone and doomed to die everyday? His father isn’t even around anymore, and yet he still relives his death. The pain, the shock, the emotions, they never fade as he slips into what he calls the False Sleep. His presence temporarily drops down, and he’s unable to do anything until the turn of 3AM. He’s not really sure why, probably something to do with stupid ghost logic. After all, Billy can walk through walls but he can’t go through the ceiling and he can’t sink through the ground. The most inaccurate thing anyone’s ever gotten in a ghost movie was the spirit being able to float or fly. Billy can confirm that he’s still a victim of gravity, unfortunately. 

Billy throws things, sometimes at Steve. Steve can’t really leave, either. Being a college student and having to juggle all of his debts, he can’t afford to just up and walk away. So he suffers through it. He curses at the spirit, looks up the history of the house and learns that the kid who died in the house was named William, but everyone called him Billy. He tells Billy to fuck off in the most polite manner one can achieve when dealing with an asshole ghost. The activity in the house calms after that, and for a while Steve believes maybe Billy left.

Billy, however, has returned to observing. When Steve had addressed him by name, it had been nice. Billy hasn’t heard his name, hasn’t been addressed personally, since he was alive. 

The first time Billy witnesses one of Steve’s panic attacks, he himself panics. He’d felt Steve’s anxiety and emotions rushing off of his form in waves, and had rushed in as soon as he could. Steve has scratches on his arms from where he’s digging his own nails into his skin, and Billy wants to reach other and pry his hands away from his arms. He impulsively tries to, and Steve feels goosebumps spread across his entire body. “Billy,” Steve says his voice so softly, tears dripping off his face so softly as he looks up directly at Billy but also through him. He’s looking in the right direction though, and Billy’s breath stutters in his chest. It’s the absolute worst time to be jerked out of Steve’s room into living room, feeling nonexistent punches landing on his body and his bones snapping and face crushing beneath long-gone pressure of hateful fists. He lets out a cry of pain and anguish, begging for mercy just this once… when three AM rolls around hours later, however, he curses fate for forcing him to suffer as he rushes to Steve’s room. He’s not asleep, staring down at his phone as he scrolls through Instagram mindlessly. Billy comes closer, and the signal of his phone degrades until nothing loads. Billy settles himself beside Steve on the bed, though nothing changes. It’s like he’s not even there, but Steve puts his phone down regardless and lays back on the bed. “You scared me earlier… you were there and then you were just gone. I felt you disappear. It was weird. I feel like I shouldn’t be this casual about living with a ghost but what can you do, right? I wish there was some way I could talk to you, but I’m not about to bring a Ouija board in this house. Fuck that shit. You know, Jonathan heard you one time when we were in a call. He said it sounded like you called me an asshole. You’re the asshole of the two of us though, you know? Always throwing my shit around the house and taking my things and hiding them from me… who does that? Is it really necessary?”

Billy giggles mindlessly, knowing Steve can’t hear him but he finds a lot of humor in the only thing that’s ever been transferred across their worlds was calling Steve an asshole. He sobers quickly, however, when Steve continues speaking. “Sometimes, I feel like dying. I want to, you know? I…I tried once. I know one of these days I’m going to end up trying again…life fucking sucks today. The world’s ending and no one’s doing shit about it and I’m just tired of it.”Steve sighs, and Billy feels his stomach pitch in sadness. He wishes he could do something to ease Steve’s pain, but nothing comes to mind. Billy settles for just being there, at the very least. Steve’s not alone now, even if Billy wants to do more than be a presence. Eventually, Steve falls asleep.

Time progresses, as it is prone to do. Steve is mostly okay, though Billy can feel the building waves of pain flowing out of the older boy’s body. He takes a moment to follow that train of thought, finding humor in the fact that Steve is older than him by societal norm, but by technicality Billy is 51 years old. He’s an old man now! He laughs to himself, and Steve shivers. “I hope you know every time I actually hear you, it’s like either a small child or a demon crawling up from the pits of hell. Your voice is not what it’s probably supposed to sound like,” he says idly. Billy snorts, knocking over a vase on the kitchen counter just to be a pain in the ass. Steve curses, looking over at the vase from where he’s sitting in the living room. Billy watches the debate play across his face before Steve decides he’ll sit it up later. Rolling his eyes, he props it back up himself. 

It’s nice. 

The first time Billy walks in on Steve with his pants off and his hand in his boxers, his brain backfires as it tries to catch up. His door was closed, dumb ass, he doesn’t usually close his door, runs through his mind as he tries to backtrack and leave the room but the image is going to be in his head for eternity. It overwhelms him enough to fade for a few days. 

When he returns, it’s with a shout and the picture frames on the wall rattle all at once. Steve jolts, looking around in a panic. “Billy? You’re back! You just vanished, I was worried you were gone for good…”Steve looks worse for wear, and Billy sees scabs on his arms. Guilt rises up in his throat as he goes over to sit beside Steve on the couch, and the music that had been playing from his laptop slows to a stop as it enters an endless buffering cycle. Billy wishes he could explain the fades to Steve, the temporary gaps in time as he scatters across existence briefly. He wishes he could say anything to Steve at all, and restless anger spurs his soul into frantic energy. The television flips on, off, and then on again. Steve frowns, scrubbing a hand across his tired eyes. “I thought you were gone.”

When Billy comes back from his next fade, it’s to the overwhelming sense that something is terribly wrong. Turning around from where he stands in the living room, he sees Steve’s bedroom door down the hall is closed again. He feels a pull towards it and he phases across the house, brushing through the door as an intense suffering hits him like a wall. The calendar on Steve’s wall reads different, by a drastic amount, to when Billy had last looked at it. It’s been three months, which isn’t the longest he’s ever disappeared for but he’s also never had a reason to stick around. Steve is curled up in a fetal position on the floor beside his bed, drooling and shaking violently. He retches, but can’t move himself into a different position not to choke on his own saliva and throw-up. His breathing is shallow, and too slow. His skin is paler than usual, and Billy’s eyes scan the room when he spots the bottle that’s rolled beneath the bed. He jerks it out, and sees it’s empty. The top is further beneath the bed. Ativan, Steve’s anxiety medication. He overdosed on what’s supposed to help him. “Steve!” His voice is foreign to his own ears, desperate as he glitches directly beside him. Steve’s eyes, glassy and unfocused, immediately turn to him. He’s crying, and Billy brushes his fingers along his forehead. Steve shivers, and retches again. “Make it stop…Billy, make it stop…” There’s nothing Billy can do, he can’t call 911 and even if he manages to, they’ll never make it in time. Steve is too far gone, that much Billy can tell. He can feel it, Steve’s spirit is closer than Billy’s ever felt it. So, he thinks and he feels tears spring in his eyes as he reaches into Steve, grabs hold of him. It’s a foreign feeling, his hands are somewhere inside of Steve but not at the same time. He grabs on, and he tears him out. Steve is slung from his body and he screams as he’s suddenly overwhelmed by everything. His hands go to his chest, scratching at the phantom intrusion of cold hands gripping his heart and squeezing the last of life from it. His eyes lose their amber hue, fading into a blank white with a gentle gold back-light. Turning to look at where he’d been laying moments prior, life fading, he looks at his body in mute horror. That’s his body. He’s not in it. He’d actually done it, he’d lost control and… a sob tears out of his throat, followed by a series of aborted gasps as he feels cold tears wash down his cheeks. Suddenly, he’s jerked away from his lifeless corpse and turned around to face a solid chest and a tear-streaked face. In an instant he recognizes the face he’s looking into, he’s seen it so many times before in newspaper clippings and articles online. “B-Billy?” his voice is wispy, echoing in his ears. Softer than he’s ever heard himself. He sniffles, and Billy smiles wryly. “Yeah, it’s me. I, I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize, I didn’t know it’s been three months since I faded. I never should have left…” He says it, even though he can’t control the fade. Steve will learn that soon enough, he’ll fade too. Steve reaches up, takes his face in his hands and just looks at him. His eyes are wide, full of both fear and wonder. Billy’s pulse quickens in his veins, uselessly since he doesn’t have a heartbeat to pump blood through his body but- whatever. It is what it is. 

Maybe it’s in an effort to distract him from what just happened, what they’ve both done, or maybe it’s Billy’s own desires finally being something he can act on, but he shifts just enough to press his lips to Steve’s. Steve gasps against his lips, but doesn’t move away. After a beat, he presses back against him. There’s nothing heated to it, nothing more, just a comfort they both take part in. 

Billy leads him out of the room, out onto the back porch to watch the sunrise. While neither of them know what’s next, both are content to finally have someone to spend forever with. Neither are alone anymore, and for now that’s enough.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

To Be Happy - Summer

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam, SuperFam - Jason Todd/Robin & Conner Kent/Kon-El/Superboy

Rating: PG

Original Idea: @welovegroot really loves it when I write a Jason/OC/Kon drama triangle I guess so here’s this one. This one’s drama came from this song. (S/O to my sister for listening to the soundtrack on perpetual repeat)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one will have several parts. Five, to be exact! I go to a college where we get out the first week of May, so yes May counts as summer fight me.

^^^^^

May 18, 2:15PM

“Welcome to Mount Justice,” Nightwing said as the zeta tube spat us out. I stumbled clumsily onto all fours like an idiot. “Don’t worry, Stars. You’ll get used to that. It’s not so bad after the first couple times.”

I cleared my throat. “Right.”

“Hey guys! What’s going—who’s this?” a new voice asked as a boy who was half-a-foot shorter than me but about the same age as I was approached us.

“Oh,” Nightwing said. “This is the new recruit. Starbeam. Starbeam, this is my brother. Robin.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin,” I said, sticking my hand out. The smaller boy took it and shook it.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he replied.

I grinned.

“Hey Robin, how about I let you give her the tour? I think you’re closer to her age,” Nightwing suggested.

“Sure,” Robin said. He extended his elbow to me. “M’lady. May I escort you around the fortress? You’ll find it’s easy to get lost alone.”

I laughed and looped my arm through his. “You may, good sir,” I said playfully.

He grinned and started to show me around. “So. New recruit, huh? Didn’t know we were recruiting.”

“According to Nightwing you’re always recruiting, but there aren’t enough sidekicks to add to the team.”

“Ah. Makes sense I guess. So what’s your story? Who trained you?”

I sighed and stuck my other hand in the pocket of my suit to bring out a photo. “This is Mind Beam. She mentored me.” I passed it to him. He took it and examined it before handing it back to me. I put it gently back in my pocket.

“Never heard of her,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s not part of the Justice League I'm guessing.”

“No. She refused. Personal reasons. But she’s powerful and agreed to train me.”

“So what can you do?”

“I'm telekinetic,” I said.

“Cool. This is the kitchen. Only two members of the team live here full-time so it doesn’t get too much use.”

“Three,” I corrected.

“You’re going to live here?”

“Don’t have anywhere else to go.” I shrugged.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

“Speaking of full-timers—hey Supes! Come meet the newbie!”

A boy taller than both me and Robin approached us. “Hi,” he said blandly.

I smiled and stuck my hand out. “Starbeam,” I said.

He shook it powerfully. “Superboy. You can call me Kon.”

“Call me Stars.”

Kon looked at Robin. “Giving the grand tour, huh?” he asked. He was so handsome. Defined features for a teenager with bottomless blue eyes, black hair, and muscular.

Robin nodded. “Yup,” he said, a proud smile on his face. He held himself confidently for a 4’7” fifteen-year-old who Kon could probably break in half with a snap of his fingers. I could tear this tiny Robin in two with a blink and a thought. But I liked his confidence. I thought it had a certain cute charm to it.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Kon said before bowing out of the kitchen.

I stared after him as he left. “He’s cute,” I said impulsively.

Little Robin puffed his chest out. “You think so?” he asked with a disgusted expression on his face. I chuckled and grinned at Robin.

“You’re cute too,” I amended.

“Hmph,” Robin grunted.

I looked at where Superboy disappeared. “So what’s his story, though? I didn’t know Superman had a son—I mean, a sidekick.”

“Technically he doesn’t have either,” Robin said begrudgingly. “Supey is a half-clone of the big guy.”

“Half?”

“The other half is Lex Luthor.”

I blinked. “… Oh.”

“But, really, he’s not much like either of them,” Robin said, completely cavalier. He beckoned me out of the kitchen. I followed curiously, eager to see the rest of the base.

^^^^^

Jason glanced at Starbeam as she wandered Mt. Justice with him. She had an awed expression on her face. She seemed so sweet and pretty. Her banter was quick-witted and playful. She greeted M’gann with a kind, gentle smile and excitement that made her eyes light up. She matched up with Jason’s sense of humor easily. She knew what he was talking about when he mentioned favorite classic novels of his and commented on the philosophy of some of them.

He was head-over-heels.

But… the way she looked at Conner…

It was common for girls to look at Conner the way she had. He was a handsome guy, Jason supposed, with something rugged that girls liked—for some reason. But it was uncommon for the type of girl Jason usually found himself liking to stare at Conner like that. The ones with incredible mental intelligence and emotional intelligence who looked deeper than the surface.

Maybe…

Maybe it was better if she went after Conner. She’d only end up breaking Jason’s heart… right?

Jason shook his head while Starbeam and M’gann chatted with pleasant tones and grins. Her laughter was infection and her smile made his heart melt.

Stop it, Jason. You can only bear so much, he chastised himself. Compared to a six-foot football player, a four-foot-seven pipsqueak like you has no chance. Better not get your hopes up.

She looked back at him. “Shall we continue the tour?” she asked.

“Yeah sure,” he said, voice more dejected than before.

She noticed and scrunched her eyebrows as they headed off. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to offend you?”

Jason shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. “No. Sorry. Just got distracted.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“So, this is going to be your room, I guess…”

They continued the tour, and Jason found himself looking at her more than what he was meant to be showing her. He knew what all of it was anyway—he could explain whatever he was showing her without looking.

When it was over, they ended in the zeta tube area where her bags were waiting for her to move them.

Kon was already there, picking three of them up. She had several duffle bags with her clothes and gear. “Sorry I just… thought I’d get these out of the way in case someone comes in without knowing they’re there and tripping. Which room is yours?” Kon asked.

Jason bent down to grab another duffle bag, rolling his eyes when Stars and Kon wouldn’t see.

“Uh… Robin? Remind me which room is mine?” she requested, setting her hand on Jason’s back as he pretended to be fiddling with untwisting the strap. He straightened up.

“I’ll show you how to get there from here,” he said, giving her a smile. She grinned back.

“Thanks.”

Jason pretended he didn’t notice Kon narrowing his eyes at him as he pulled the bag strap onto his shoulder. She grabbed three—one with her powers and the other two on each shoulder—and followed after him.

^^^^^

June 15, 4:35PM

Over Jason’s next several visits to Mt. Justice after school and on weekends, he began to notice Stars and Kon developing crushes on each other. Awkward blushes when the other would look away. Occasionally getting flustered when speaking to each other. Lots of stumbling over words. Several accidental impacts when one would enter the room as the other was leaving that ended with more stumbling over words and blushes. A training session where she ended up pinning him down while he stared at her like he’d just been blessed by Wonder Woman.

Jason tried not to feel anything, but that green monster of envy and the red monster of anger reared their disgustingly ugly heads in his chest and stomach. The angry one eventually got put down because he had no reason to be angry that she was happy, but the envious sensation didn’t want to go away.

One Friday he arrived to hear her singing Broadway and Disney songs in her room. M’gann sounded like she was in Stars’ room as well, singing the two parts near the end of For the First Time in Forever from “Frozen”. Stars sounded like she was singing Elsa and M’gann Anna.

They were also laughing.

Jason jogged through the base to her doorway. It was open.

Stars was all dressed up—wearing a nice blouse and dressy jeans, and makeup for the first time since Jason met her. “You look… nice,” he said.

She beamed at him. “Thanks! Kon and I are going to a movie so I thought I’d look nice.”

“Like… a date?”

“Uh… we didn’t specify. He just asked if I was interested in that new sci-fi movie that came out and of course I am so we’re gonna go see it while everyone else is busy.”

Jason slouched his shoulders. “Uh… cool,” he said. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Stars remarked.

“No, no. You two have some… girl time.”

“Oh we do all the time,” Stars dismissed. “We both live here full-time. Come on in and join.”

^^^^^

Knock-knock!

Robin, M’gann, and I all turned to my door. Kon was standing there with a nice jacket on over his usual outfit of his House of El crest T-shirt and jeans. M’gann paused the music and Robin relaxed out of the instinctive fighting stance he took.

Kon cleared his throat. “Are, uh, are you ready, Stars?” he asked, ignoring my visitors.

I nodded and grabbed my purse off my bed. “Yup!” I said. I turned to M’gann and Robin. “See you guys later. Say hi to Wally for me when he gets here.”

I ducked out of the room, hearing M’gann and Robin both call out a, “Will do!”

Kon and I headed to the exit of the mountain that would take us to the nearby town, walking side-by-side.

Kon stopped. I did too a step-and-a-half after. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

He bit his lower lip. “I, uh… something seems… wrong,” he said quietly.

I blinked. “Like…?” I prompted gently.

He sighed. “Like, am I supposed to hold your hand or have your arm through mine? Is that a thing?”

“It’s a thing. It’s not a thing we have to engage in if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Then how about the escort?” I suggested. “Bend your elbow towards me.” Kon did so. I looped my arm through his. “See? There we go. All fixed. It shows we’re doing something together but might not necessarily be a couple.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I smiled and giggled quietly as we proceeded the rest of the way out the mountain, heading into town.

The movie was fun. We laughed a lot and glanced at each other to make sure the other didn’t miss what just happened.

I half-expected Kon to fake-yawn and wrap his arm around my shoulders before remembering he didn’t exactly have a normal life like I had and hadn’t been taught that something like that was a thing. I was fine when it didn’t happen. I was fine when he didn’t put his hand on the armrest with his palm up, inviting me to hold his hand. I was fine. I actually liked it. First time I went to a movie alone with a guy and he didn’t try to make a move on me.

How refreshing.

Next

[lit--bitch]

On ‘A Girl’s Story’ by Annie Ernaux, translated by Alison L. Strayer (2020)

(Disclosure: There are themes in this review which some may find triggering, so please don’t read on if you feel particularly vulnerable to the subject matter I’ll be unpacking in this review. A Girl’s Story was first published by Gallimard in 2016 as Memoire de Fille and subsequently it’s been translated into English and published by Seven Stories Press (US) and Fitzcarraldo Editions (UK), it came out in April just gone. So I’m working with the Fitzcarraldo Editions edition. As for Annie Ernaux, I don’t know her. I don’t know Alison L. Strayer either. I am familiar with Fitzcarraldo Editions, insofar that I applied for an internship there once which I didn’t get (and that hasn’t changed my feelings at all about the press nor the work they publish). Fitzcarraldo Editions was founded by Jacques Testard, who is joined by Tamara Sampey-Jawad and Joely Day. They’ve got two categories, fiction and essay. As for their name, they’re named after the typeface their designer came up with by Ray O’Meara. I feel like a lot of the writing they publish lies at the intersection of the writing world and the art world, they blur the two together and make them sort of indistinguishable. Not sure if they’d agree, that’s just my opinion. But I do trust Fitzcarraldo Editions, because you can tell that their selection process is careful and considered. They’re not just interested in your book, they’re interested in your whole cause, everything you’re going to write about in future. They maintain connections with their authors, explicitly so. Tbh, it’s rare to find publishers who do that without falling prey to nepotism. Their livery is beautiful: white font on blue for fiction, blue font on white background for essays. They’re lovely books to hold and to shelve.)  

So onto the book: Alison L. Strayer does an amazing job. I’ve read Annie’s work both in original French and English, (I’m bilingual in French from my Algerian upbringing) and I can tell you she absolutely, hands down, conserves the entirety of Annie Ernaux’s voice. Hardly anything is compromised within her translation of A Girl’s Story and that deserves applause, because translations are an art form in and of themselves. She seamlessly keeps all the descriptions, tonality and pace of the work intact. For that reason, this text has to be commended for its precision and accuracy, because Alison hit the nail on the head.  

It is absolutely clear to me why Annie Ernaux is so revered and loved in France. Her work is deeply rooted in her French experience, and of course that means her work is an artefact of French culture and history. Her work is peppered with French references, places and figures, e.g. Juliette Gréco, Mylène Demongeot, Orne, Caen, si t’en veux plus, je la remets dans ma culotte, cha-cha-cha des thons... etc. Annie Ernaux is 78 years old, so she possesses experiences quite divided from today. This makes her work a contribution to discourses on feminism, self-identity, womanhood, abortion, women’s rights, etc. within the 20th century. And she has set out to write the differences of her time in essays which divulge her trauma most acutely. A Girl’s Story is a rumination and a recalling of the events that took place in France, in 1958, at a holiday camp in ‘S’, to Annie Ernaux, née Duchesne. It recalls of her work as a camp instructor over the summer, and her first sexual experience with a man named H, her rejection and the “verbal hegemony” of her peers, prejudices and judgements made of her which she internalises as truth. Later, after the summer, she sets out to become H’s “ideal”, she dyes her hair blonde and develops an eating disorder. A Girl’s Story speaks of a time where provocation is conflated with “whoredom”, where the worth of a woman is vested in her virginity. She hammers down the volatility of the slave/master dynamic between men and women, in a time ‘pre-dating by ten years the slogan ‘my body, my rules’.’ (p.95.)

A Girl’s Story is a tough read. It’s a memoir that distrusts itself and analyses the legitimacy of memory compounded by years of separation from the event. It ruminates on the female condition, the teenage girl’s self-perception which seems to be a collection of external voices and embarrassments. This is all happening in 1958, during the Algerian War on Independence, which is when this narrative begins to slip up on oversights, misinformation and very subtle political bias. I have so much to say about A Girl’s Story but I can’t possibly say it all without boring many people to death and without it turning into a 200-page essay, and frankly I’m not interested in turning this review into a thesis, but I think I already have, because this “review” is L O N G. So I am thankful to you if you do decide to read it all, including my criticisms of the work.  

I have read lots of reviews talking about A Girl’s Story from a feminist slant. I have no desire to repeat a review totally akin to them. I’m interested in the political bias and implications of that bias, and the ignorance of Annie Duchesne and Annie Ernaux, respectively. That will be the main focus of this review. If you want pure praise, and to read a review on this book that focuses on the girl and the girl’s suffering in A Girl’s Story, you can go here, here, and finally, here.

I want to say, firstly, that I respect the acute self-awareness of Annie Ernaux’s writing, and her courage for writing these painful chapters of her life. I am expressly grateful to her book, Happening. She has, at times, helped me. So I don’t want anyone to think that I’m being heartless or insensitive about the predicaments and sadnesses Annie unpacks in her writing. Because I do understand these traumas. 

What I don’t share, is age. There is a massive age gap between myself and Annie Ernaux, which means that the way she’s had to deal with shit has probably been harder because when she was 18, men had the upper hand way more than they do right now, women weren’t invited to exploring their sexuality without being rendered a whore, and abortion was illegal.  

There are times where I find Annie’s reference to herself at the age of 18 as, ‘the girl of S’, or ‘the girl of 1985′, a bit melodramatic and corny, but at the same time I’m empathetic of the pain these memories must stir inside her psyche. The fact that this torment has caused Annie to mentally create divisions of herself in such a way, that she requires an entirely different name for herself at a specific point of her life, that’s upsetting. That is an incredibly vulnerable thing to expose about yourself, in your writing, and for this text, it’s an integral part to digesting Annie Ernaux’s multi-faceted perceptions of memory. 

There’s a sort of clairvoyancy-esque tonality to Ernaux’s voice at times, points where she makes predictions based off her past self, because she distrusts her memory so much. For example, ‘I perceive, in the persistence of these memories, the girl’s fascination for a rigorously organized world...’, ‘I perceive a desire to acclimatize to the new environment [the camp] but also a pervasive fear of being unable to do so’(p. 38). This voice brings about new dimensions to Annie Ernaux’s voice which characterise her as historian, archaeologist and psychologist to the remains of this “long-lost” identity:

But what is the point of writing if not to unearth things [...] something that emerges from the creases when a story is unfolded and can help us understand — endure — events that occur and the things that we do?

What I’m most upbeat about in A Girl’s Story, is the universal truths Annie unpacks about the philosophy of writing the truth, and writing about writing. It’s so good that it sometimes makes me jealous. And that’s how I know I’m reading good writing, when I actually wish I’d written some of these things myself. When Annie (Ernaux) in the present, confesses to wanting to call some of the people who tormented her from the camp, she elaborates: 

I wanted physical, tangible proof of their existence, as if to continue writing I needed them to be alive, as if I needed to be writing about what is alive, to be endangered in the way one is when writing about the living and not in the state of tranquility that prevails when people die and are consigned to the immateriality of fictional characters. 

And then the Big Truth: 

There is a need to make writing an untenable enterprise, to atone for its power (not its ease, no one feels less ease in writing than me) out of an imaginary terror of consequences.  Unless, now that I think of it, there is some perverse desire in me to make sure they’re still alive in order to compromise them, as I attend to my business of disclosure: to be their final Judgement.

There is a desire in writing, sometimes, to condemn and call out the people who’ve hurt you or fucked you over by name, especially if that betrayal is acutely felt, even more so if it stands the test of time. There is an urge to feel the quality of consequence, and to dissolve our sealed lips. I resonate with this: I have, sometimes impulsively, taken it upon myself to write writing that condemns hurt other people have caused, and no matter what anyone says, it does feel good. Especially if the work gets published. There are good and bad reasons for why it feels good, they are mostly all futile, and jejune. 

It’s the ‘pushing the big red button’ of writing, I feel. It says don’t do it. But you do it anyway, because you can. As Annie says:

I do not envy him [H]: I’m the one who is writing. 

Certainly in A Girl’s Story, this whole memory contains the pain behind Annie Ernaux’s whole impetus for writing, it marks the origins of where her work is seated. On shame and abuse and the convolutions of self-image as female. I don’t think Annie so much condemns the people in this essay. Rather, she is reconstructing scenes, and deconstructing her feelings and the projections she creates for herself as a result of being manoeuvred by the expectations and sensitivities of other people. Confessing all this is admirable, and makes for a book which is acutely self-aware.  

A Girl’s Story is a narrative I and many women share. After the narration of Annie Duchesne, Annie Ernaux moves away from the shame of her memories and gradually begins to walk towards herself. She sees the symmetry of her experiences in the histories of Billie Holliday and Violette Laduc, sadnesses of love and intoxication of other in the same year of 1958. She begins to experience resonance:

the eighteen-year-old girl [...] were less alone, less forlorn — saved, in a sense — because these forsaken women, unknown to her then, even by name, had lived in desperate solitude at the same time as her. [...] to shatter the singularity and solitude of an experience that is more less shared by others at about the same time.

This realisation is part of the second half of the book which contains all the reasoning and steps Annie Ernaux makes towards articulating her selves in language. That these memories, though she is dubious about the reliability of them, and of her feelings, she can write this as part of the purpose to write A Girl’s Story. She can realise her intentions for her writing, recognise a purpose in sharing the experiences so that they might perhaps “save” other women from the solitude of their own experiences. And as she does, the memory of ‘the girl of 1958′ begins to “fade”, and what is left is the now, the now, being the most reliable source to yourself at any given point in life. A part of this book’s nature, for me at least, is one of reciprocity, in the sense that we as an audience might reflect on the banks of our memories, and unite ourselves with our pasts and futures in the collective whole of our present selves. 

It’s for these reasons I enjoyed the text, but there are more difficult things going on in the background which pertain to Annie Ernaux’s, and of course Annie Duchesne’s, politics and ignorance. For me there are three very different narratives going on. I’ve unpacked the first two as briefly as I could, above. There is Annie Duchesne and her perspective of the world, her feelings, her torment, and the events unfolding at the camp in S. Then there’s present-day Annie, as Annie Ernaux, recalling these events and writing in the first-person to administer her present-day reflections and hindsights. 

The third narrative is the narrative which is rarely acknowledged and mostly alluded to: it’s what’s happening in the rest of the world, and how both Annies remain still pretty oblivious to it. It’s this third narrative I’ve felt most engrossed by. 

It is really hard for me to not make this book about Algeria in many ways, but the fact that both Annies gloss over the subject of the Algerian War, gives me impetus to address this “glossing” as being a problem in and of itself, and highlights other issues within the work. You’d think this dismissive inclusion of French political affairs is intentional, because by her own admission, she states  her attention towards these world affairs was displaced by the agonies of men and love: ‘Perhaps as a result of that blindness to everything that was not the camp, I come to an abrupt halt when my eye is caught by the date of 1958′. It would make sense that Annie skirts around these issues when she speaks of herself at the age of 18, and that’s implied from the very start. 

Annie tries to recreate the version of herself in youth by aligning you to her ideology and her principles at that age. Just three pages into the essay, she says:

That summer [1958], too, thousands of servicemen left France to restore order in Algeria. Many had never been away from home before. In dozens of letters, they wrote about the heat, the djebel, the douars — tent villages — and the illiterate Arabs, who after one hundred years of occupation still did not speak French. 

You immediately get an impression for the mentality she once harboured. And it’s also a really misinformed one, because she implies that Algeria is made up of Arabs and that’s not true, the dominant demographic in Algeria and most of North Africa is the Amazigh, also known by the derogatory term “Berbers”. This is true of back then and it remains true of now. The thing is, what’s so enraging about this particular statement, and at several other points of this book, is that she oscillates between her present self and her 18-year-old self at random junctions, and she doesn’t really come back to Algeria in great detail, because as I say, her mind is elsewhere occupied by her affections for H at this camp and the reduction of herself as slave to his desires. That how she legitimises her ignorance as Annie Duchesne, y’know, which is understandable of a young girl looking to fall in love. I mean, of course the book isn’t about Algeria, it’s about her mind and desire for affection and to be seen, in a tiny, damaging bubble at a camp, at a time when Frenchmen were being sent away to fight for a mythical land called “French Algeria”. In which case, what’s the point in being so deliberately inflammatory about something you’re not going to later unpack in detail, as your present-day self? (I’ll come back to that in a couple paragraphs).  

Secondly, it’s important that we know Annie Ernaux no longer “agrees” with the French Occupation of Algeria. She doesn’t identify with her 18-year-old self. On page 19, she says:

The longer I gaze at the girl in the photo, the more it seeems that she is looking at me. Is this girl me? Am I her? For me to be her, I would have to      be able to solve a physics problem and a quadratic equation in maths      read the whole novel given out with Bonnes soirées magazine each week       [...]      support the continuation of French Algeria 

There’s the confirmation. But I’m not convinced that Annie Ernaux feels for the collective destruction that annihilated both sides, I’m not convinced that she really cares beyond the confines of French life and French borders. When she speaks in her present-day voice, she is still clearly biased, and I have no care for the logistics of this, that it’s more convenient for her to not turn this into a political essay. This is because about halfway through the book, she remarks:

My memory retains no trace of world events, reduced to a distant rumble that reached the camp by way of the television set in the dining hall. [...] I don’t believe the boys ever mentioned the constant threat they faced, from which none was exempt, of being sent to fight in the djebel, in Algeria. 

On the Internet, I read the list of terrorist actions that occur almost daily between late August (fifteen attacks on the 25th) and the end of September 1958: an attack against Jacques Soustelle that killed one passerby and wounded three, the sabotage of railways, machinegun attacks on cafés and police stations, fires at factories (Simca in Poissy, Pechiney in Grenoble) and refineries (Notre-Dame-de-Gravenchon-Marseilles) [...] All were perpetrated by the FLN, [Front Libération Nationale (the Algerian rebels fighting for independence basically)] which brought the conflict to metropolitan France.

I don’t think Annie Ernaux has ever left France, at least not mentally. And for me it’s this essay’s downfall, which is still clearly blinded by French propaganda. This is the extent Annie Ernaux goes into detail about the Algerian War for Independence. And there’s nothing in that entire passage, nor in any part of the essay, about the genocide native Algerians were abjected to. You’d think that age and knowledge would bring this clarity to Annie Ernaux, at least, but it doesn’t, and I’m perplexed by her choice of words, “the constant threat they [French soldiers] faced”, “terrorist actions”, “perpetrate”, as if France was a victim here, and still coming back calling North Africans ‘crouillat’ (it’s a racist term, look it up). I’m not saying that these events weren’t offences, or by any means, acceptable, but this is a country that took Algeria by force, and left it in a mess from which it has never recovered... And Jacques Soustelle, by the way, rendered native Algerians as “backward savages” due to their “primitive technology” and gave them second-class status. He was a fascist. He joined a terrorist group called l’Organisation Armée Secrète (OAS) to fight against Algerian independence. He worked alongside Charles de Gaulle and was responsible for his renewal as France’s President and the Fifth Republic. Like, she’s coming up with all these shitty counter-attacks committed by people whose families literally had their entrails pulled out and their houses burned down. Like my own grandmother’s house. These people had shitty pistols to fight with, the French had technology you can’t even imagine. The only reason France didn’t stick with the occupation was because the fight was becoming expensive and people were just tired of rebellion, so they gave Algeria a self-determined referendum. It was a pragmatical decision. 

So there’s a really big division in me created by this incredible, sad narrative of a girl’s struggle, navigating sexuality and femininity within the confines of a patriarchal, limiting society which punishes her. That’s the woman in me, reaching out, saying “Yes!”. We need memoirs like this, we need stories like this. 

And then there’s this other kind of background narrative of politics and world affairs, which is one-sided, and isn’t really relevant or important to Annie’s 18-year-old self but “it should be” but it isn’t, and like, it’s so absent-mindedly written for a woman who is now 78 years old. Her focalisation is that of French suffering, not global suffering. And I think this isn’t just a style of Annie’s writing, I think it’s an outlook, you can see it in other books like The Years. This is the Algerian woman in me, that is beginning a career in narrating the reality of Algeria and what it means to have Algerian family, and possess inherited traumas beyond your understanding and control, and still read books like this written by French people. And Algeria’s not just background noise for Annie to peddle in her narratives of life without fully considering the impact and shape they’ve taken in history. Ergo, don’t loosely include it in your essay if all you’re attempting to do is legitimise your ignorance. And don’t later on, pretend to care, and then cherry pick the events which minimises France’s accountability for genocide. Cos why the fuck would you still want to? 

Here’s the thing, and I’m being as brief as I can here. In 1958, when Annie Duchesne was being taunted, harrassed and in my view, sexually abused, by some holiday camp leaders in S, for having not slept with a boy (I refuse to call him a man), but for somehow being “a whore”, all of which is terrible, this is what was happening in Algeria at the same time:

My grandmother and grandfather’s house had been burned down by the French in the Province of Kabylia, which is Amazigh territory, aka Algerian countryside. She fled to Algiers with her three babies.

Then, shortly afterwards, my grandmother’s 5-year-old daughter was killed by the French Army in a street in Algiers.

Algerian-Muslim votes in political elections were still considered to be unequal to that of French Algerian votes.

My grandfather was about to be shot in the leg and have to travel to France to save it (since all the hospitals in Algeria had been destroyed, and the French at the time were dismissive of indigenous Algerians and their ailments). 

French soldiers were raping Algerian women left, right and centre to punish FLN members.

FLN members were bombing French army barracks. French soldiers were doing the same thing back. Mutual torture and rape from both parties was committed.

The death toll of Algerians was reaching (by my own approximations which I’ve studied hard cos this is a specialism of mine, there isn’t a confirmed statistic, because that’s how much people care) its peak. It was heading towards 20 million dead since the year of 1830, when the French Occupation started.

My grandmother went her whole life without holding her daughter’s killers accountable. She never had a voice and she never had the opportunity to write a book, or several, about it. And I hold my hands up: it doesn’t do well to quantify pain or the severity of experience. Your life is your life, there is only you living it, and whatever happens to you in your life is going to be important to you, even if the saddest thing that ever happens to you is that the flavour of ice cream you like has run out at the shop. 

But it’s hard for me to really let myself just go ahead and resonate with Annie Ernaux. I don’t get caught up in the symmetry of my experiences, because a lot of the time, I’m just relating it back to the atrocities of genocide that Kabyle women like my grandmother were caught up in during 1958. I’m not saying that Annie’s miseries, past and present, are lesser than the miseries of that time for French soliders and Algerian soldiers and civilians enduring the devastation of war. I’m saying that her perspective is narrower. And that’s something I can’t change about Annie, nor this work.

I think what this text tries to do is explore a lack of accountability in many different facets. There is lack of accountability in the people that saw to Annie Duchesne’s humiliation and suffering, there’s a lack of accountability to her parents and their enforcement of religion, there’s no accountability for the people that suffer at the hands of other people, whether it’s a genocide or a sexual assault, and there’s the lack of accountability in having endured the patriarchal constructs which force you down on a bed to find out why your periods have stopped, i.e. an intact hymen (page 86).  

The only resolution, ultimately, is to write about these horrors, and by writing about it you might achieve a narrative which produces a brand new discourse, or a brand new insight previously not seen or understood. By writing about it, we achieve awareness, clarity, even if we mistrust our memories of it all, as Annie does. And I do think Annie achieves clarity, at least, for me as a reader, with A Girl’s Story and this essay should be seen as a contribution to a feminine history, a lesson in where women still feel unvalidated by their own trauma, and the work it takes . I feel that Annie Ernaux has a desire to tell her stories, to admit her truths and confess her sensitive past, her vulnerability and expose the vulnerability of others. By doing so, and allowing a wider audience to access work like A Girl’s Story she carries out her justice. Her truth is evidenced and validated by her readership, by her audience, by it being a book.  

But equally, for me again, A Girl’s Story is held back by some of the more subtle and problematic word choices and convoluted prose that I think is quite disillusioning and deceptively narrow-minded, this is something you’ll have to see for yourself by buying the book.

I think of this essay as an admonition to the follies of youth and of boys, not men, boys. I think of it as a documentation of female struggle and identity. I think of it as a text that intimates privilege even when it is not felt.  And I’m torn by A Girl’s Story, which made this review terribly difficult to write, and I don’t think I’m blowing it out of proportion, I do think there’s an indication of a non-condemnation of France’s historical role in genocide. And maybe this subtle admission is just as brave of Annie, as is writing her autobiographies.

If you’re interested and want to make assertions for yourself, please do buy A Girl’s Story from Fitzcarraldo Editions here. 

And if you want to share some of your own thoughts, please do feel free to comment and discuss. I’m interested to see whether people agree or not. 

[fyeahjeaninnocent]

So it occurred to me that some people in the Rebecca Front fandot might be hesistant about reblogging yesterday’s really great interview with her, since it was posted on The D@ily M@il. So, I’ve taken the liberty of  copying the transcript here (below the cut) so that people can still read it without that controversial site in their browser history.

'Sex symbol? I’ve still got it!': Actress Rebecca Front on body confidence and what she's got in common with Theresa May

By KERRY POTTER FOR YOU MAGAZINE

From The Thick of It to War & Peace, REBECCA FRONT’s talent for portraying powerful women has won her legions of male fans. She tells Kerry Potter about body confidence, her (teenage) fashion mentor and what she’s got in common with Theresa May.

Rebecca Front is fixing me with The Look. Even the most cursory of TV viewers will be familiar with it: stern and authoritative, as seen on Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent in ITV crime drama Inspector Lewis (three years on from Rebecca’s departure, her co-star Laurence Fox still calls her ‘ma’am’).

She also deployed it in her role as cabinet minister Nicola Murray in the BBC political satire The Thick of It, as well as in her matriarch roles in period dramas War & Peace and Doctor Thorne. And now The Look is back for Rebecca’s turn in Kay Mellor’s new register-office-set BBC One drama Love, Lies and Records. She plays Judy, an awkward, jobsworth registrar who is furious when she gets overlooked for promotion in favour of her nemesis: gregarious, chaotic working mother Kate, played by Ashley Jensen.

Right now, I am nervously witnessing an impromptu demonstration of The Look up close. We won’t call it ‘resting b**ch face’ because Rebecca doesn’t like the word b**ch: ‘We wouldn’t call a man that.’ We settle for ‘resting angry face’.

‘It’s useful to be able to look quite scary,’ she says. ‘I’m really bad at complaining about things in shops or restaurants because I don’t like confrontation, but sometimes I don’t need to complain because you can just see it in my face.’ And with that, The Look is gone as she breaks into a grin. ‘I am quite a smiley person; I’m actually not stern enough. I’m quite soft and woolly by nature.’

She’s also a million times sexier than many of her characters. ‘I’ve got much more body confident as I’ve got older. I’m fitter and more muscly. I go to the gym three times a week. My teenage daughter [Tilly, 16] has given me more self-assurance. We shop together a lot and I pick up clothes and say, “I don’t think I can get away with that.” And she says, “What does that mean? You’re setting yourself a rule and that’s ridiculous. You tell me not to do that, so why should you?” So I’ve upped my game: I dress more confidently, I carry myself more confidently. You only live once.’

She’s about to get her ears pierced for the second time in recent years, egged on by Tilly, having previously been too scared. That’s the only needle she’ll tolerate though – cosmetic surgery is a big no. ‘Women are under so much pressure: the thought that you have to change your body to be accommodated in society seems wrong to me. I’m hesitant to say I hate it because I don’t want to judge people for doing it – I understand the impulse – but it worries me.’

At 53, Rebecca is happy to look her age. ‘It bothers me that people aren’t allowed to grow old naturally because there’s a beauty in that. I know it’s a cliché but confidence is the sexiest thing and if more women felt confident about the way they looked, they wouldn’t need to have those procedures. It takes guts to say, “I’ve got wrinkles and crow’s feet and I’m not bothered about it. I quite like them, actually.”’

Her tendency to play powerful, brusque characters has won her a legion of male fans. ‘Some men are really drawn to authoritative women, aren’t they? I occasionally get messages from men asking for photos of my shoes because they probably imagine I’m wearing really scary stilettos. I mean, I am today, but usually I think, “Erm, do you want a picture of my trainers?”’

Her turn as Chief Superintendent Innocent especially caught people’s imagination, reportedly inspiring erotic fanfiction about the relationship between Innocent and Laurence Fox’s character DS James Hathaway. ‘I try not to engage with that stuff,’ Rebecca hoots.

Kay Mellor, creator of big-hearted, women-centric dramas such as Band of Gold and Fat Fighters, had the idea for Loves, Lies and Records when she attended a register office to record the death of her mother, noting how the location was a microcosm for life’s highs and lows. Accordingly, the first episode is a rollercoaster of emotion, as sad as it is funny, taking in births, deaths and marriages.

Despite appearances, Rebecca says she’s not made of stern enough stuff to work in that environment. ‘I wear my heart on my sleeve too much for a job like that. With all the deaths and babies, I wouldn’t last more than five minutes. I cry very easily since having my children.’ (As well as Tilly, Rebecca and her TV producer/writer husband Phil Clymer have 18-year-old Oliver.) Being a cry baby does have benefits though: ‘I’ve become a much better actor since I had children. It’s made me less self-conscious and opened up a fast-track to accessing my emotions.’

Creating Judy was a welcome challenge: ‘I thought, how on earth am I going to play this woman as I have nothing in common with her? She has no sense of humour, she’s antisocial, she’s judgmental. We would not get on at all. But I didn’t want to play her like a cartoon villain. She’s just complicated. She’s a human being and it’s my job to understand why she does what she does and find a way into her head.’

The careers of Rebecca and her co-star Ashley Jensen have bloomed in a similar way, with both making the successful transition from comedy to drama. On graduating from Oxford, Rebecca began her career in radio comedy in the early 1990s, working with Armando Iannucci (who went on to create The Thick of It) and Steve Coogan.

Moving into TV, Rebecca starred in the Alan Partridge canon, with shows such as The Day Today, and later in Nighty Night, Queers and The Catherine Tate Show. Ashley, meanwhile, made her name in Extras and Ugly Betty as well as, more recently, in Catastrophe.

‘I’m in awe of Ashley – those shifts she makes between comedy moments and moving moments are effortless,’ says Rebecca. The two bonded so well off-camera that at one point they had a giggling fit so epic, crew members filmed it on their phones.

The current state of politics, however, is less of a laughing matter for Rebecca. Does she wish they were still making The Thick of It? ‘Things have gone so mad it would be hard to find fictional ideas that were crazier than what we’re going through,’ she says. ‘Even Armando couldn’t top this.’

Having played Nicola Murray, she says she has more sympathy for politicians, especially female ones. Indeed, she’s more charitable about Theresa May than you might expect a left-leaning actor to be: ‘We judge women in public life in a different way. She gets criticised for her hair, for what she wears, for being unemotional – I don’t think that would get levelled at a man. I suspect she’s probably a very nice woman. I don’t know her but I don’t look at her and think, “She’s evil.” It’s not a job I’d want in a million years in this toxic political environment. She’s doing an incredibly difficult job.’

And the two women share one characteristic: being a bit square. When asked to share a secret, Rebecca pauses: ‘I’m hesitant about saying anything that will sound like May admitting that running through a wheat field was the naughtiest thing she’d ever done. After she said that, my children said, “Mum that’s you! That’s the answer you would have given!” I’m such a square. I was head girl at school and I’m so law-abiding. If I saw a wheat field I would only enter it if there was a sign saying, “Please run here.”’

Having suffered from anxiety since she was a child, growing up in Northeast London, Rebecca now campaigns on mental health issues as an ambassador for the charity Anxiety UK. Her claustrophobia was written into her role in The Thick of It in a scene where Nicola refuses to get into a lift and is memorably blasted by her spin-doctor colleague, the legendarily vitriolic Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi), as an ‘omnishambles’ (a word, she notes with glee, that’s now in the Oxford English Dictionary).

How did Rebecca feel about her private, real-life issues becoming the butt of a joke? ‘I’ve found humour is the best tool to deal with anxiety. You can’t afford to take it too seriously because it just gets worse,’ she smiles. She still struggles a little with lifts and can’t see herself ever travelling by tube. ‘These days I check in every so often with CBT [cognitive behavioural therapy], maybe once or twice a year if I feel I need a reboot.’

With the tube off limits, she often travels to and from her North London family home by bus. ‘I find them very relaxing and you get great material on buses: people do and say funny things. Nobody expects to see actors on the bus so fans often tweet me to say, “I saw your lookalike on the bus today.” No, it was me!’

She is heartened by Princes William and Harry speaking out about mental health issues. ‘I thought it was great, bless them for doing that. I don’t think the stigma has entirely gone, but it’s really improved.’

But back to business. When it comes to work, Rebecca has never been busier. She’s just finished Down a Dark Hall, a supernatural movie starring Uma Thurman; she’s filming a TV comedy pilot next week, and she recently delivered the draft of her second book of personal essays, following 2014’s Curious. What’s left? ‘Oh, I’m still hugely ambitious,’ she says. ‘There’s loads of stuff I want to do: some Shakespeare, a lot more theatre and drama that will really stretch me as it’s only been in the past few years that I’ve really started to use my drama chops.’

What about playing a femme fatale? ‘I’d love to do that,’ she sighs. ‘But I don’t know if that’s going to come up because there’s still this ageist culture. People don’t think of you like that when you’re over 40. We had a lunch party at our house the other day and I was the youngest woman there. I looked around the table and thought, “Just look at all these fabulous, well-dressed, attractive, funny women in their 50s and 60s.” Why don’t we see that on TV very often?’ I can imagine she’d only have to give a room of casting directors The Look and that would change.

And regardless, she’s blazing a trail as the thinking-man’s sex symbol. ‘I’d be flattered to think that. I’ve still got it going on!’ she grins, slinking out of the door to her waiting car. The Prime of Ms Rebecca Front? You had better believe it.

Rebecca rates

Fashion picks-- I’m too cheap to spend thousands on a frock. When I won a Bafta [for playing Nicola Murray in The Thick of It], I wore a £100 dress from Coast. I like AllSaints, Zara and Asos, and I live in jeans and shirts.

Reading-- The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer. It’s told from the perspective of a young man trying to make sense of a life-changing event.

Best beauty product --My daughter introduced me to Mac’s Prep + Prime Fix + finishing spray. It sets your make-up and gives you a bit of a glow.

Listening to Political podcasts – Pod Save America and West Wing Weekly are my favourites. My son, who is travelling, listens too, and we message each other about them.

Breakfast --Avocado and poached eggs on toast – and it’s got to have chilli flakes, otherwise forget it.

Watching --The Shop Around the Corner, a little-known screwball comedy with James Stewart. It’s my favourite go-to feel-good film.

Guilty pleasure-- Hollywood Medium with Tyler Henry. I don’t believe it for a minute but I don’t care, it’s so much fun. I snuggle up with my daughter and watch it.

Most treasured possession-- A book in which I wrote down sweet things my kids used to say at bed time and bath time when they were little.

Tipple of choice-- A dry martini with an olive.

Describe yourself in three words-- Thoughtful, kind and funny – at least, I aspire to be.

Dream dinner-party guests-- We have quite a lot of them over already. Frances Barber is great company and a friend of mine. Ditto Barry Cryer – he’s hilarious. And Jane Austen would have been a hoot, I reckon.

How would you like to be remembered?-- As someone who brightened people’s day.

[tmatthewj-blog]

What I learnt as a Football Coach for kids

Not sure if it was me coaching them football or them coaching me about life. Either ways, training U12 kids in KP Agrahara Government School — GKEMPS as part of Just for Kicks’ 2017 batch was one of the best learning experiences I’ve ever had.

How it all started

I’ve been part of a Football discussion forum on Facebook forum for the past 8 years, like most football followers who think they are smart enough to engage in a banter about opposition football clubs or feel that their rationale about why a manager decided to go with a specific formation for a game needs to be heard :). It’s fun of course but the best thing that happened to me in that group is when a certain Venkatesh (Venky) joined the group and talked about his association with Just for Kicks (JFK), an organisation that’s trying to help school kids develop life skills with the help of football.

This was exciting to me since I’ve spent (and keep spending) a good amount of time playing and thinking football in my life. I’ve always wondered if there would ever come an opportunity to coach a team and this was it (that wasn’t just that, more about it soon). I reached out to Venky and we met to discuss the possibilities of me coaching a school team to their first championship trophy (man’s ability to creatively fantasise is admirable).

Picture: The FB group chat — where it all started

“Is there a tournament at the end of it?”

I’m not sure if this episode deserves to be mentioned but meeting Venkatesh in person was an affirmation that there actually are people out there obsessed about leveraging sports to help inculcate life skills in students. I could relate to this opportunity since I’ve been a football player for most of my high school life and the way it transforms a person to become a team player in life scenarios is underrated .

The way football and other sports activities help in transforming a person to become a team player in life is underrated.

It’s not just football but any sport or any team based activity that’s goal-oriented can help inculcate life skills, especially when we are young. It could be working with a cast to stage a play, practising with your dance troupe for a finale performance or even collaborating with an organisation to paint afresh a dirt laden public wall. They all teach you how to achieve greatness with a team — which is an incredibly important learning I’ve got in life, partly imparted through football and other group activities.

Now back to my first meeting with Venky! We met for a coffee and 15 mins down, I asked that question that’s been bothering me about JFK coaching: “Is there a tournament at the end of it?” Venky got the cue (my hidden motivation of doing a victory lap with the trophy at the end of the season), smiled and said, “Well yes! We do have a tournament at the end of it, but I’m sure you will enjoy the coaching sessions the same.”

Orientation and Training: Getting a grip of reality

After mulling over the decision for a week, I decided to join JFK as a coach for the academic year 2017–18. I remember there were 2 people I consulted to make this decision: my wife, Sumeeti and my co-founder at my startup Typito, Srijith. This was important because I was about to dedicate 4–6 hours per week to teach kids football and there in life skills but it also means I would be losing that much time in a week to work on other priorities in life. Eventually I used the framework that I used to decide to quit my job and work on the startup — regret minimisation framework, made famous by Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos. I asked myself: “ Would I regret it later if I don’t join JFK as a coach now” and the answer was a resounding YES however impulsive the turn of events so far could be labelled. So I committed to a year with the organisation and looked forward to the 2 day orientation and training conducted for new coaches.

And the JFK crew got all the coaches for Chennai, Bangalore and Hyderabad in a training space in Bangalore. The 2 day boot-camp was built around 2 themes: on-ground training and classroom based orientations.

Picture: A day spent with JFK crew and the coaches for the year 2017–18

The training gave us a much-needed reality check on the basic challenges faced by students in some of the Government aided schools that JFK collaborates with. For example, some of them might not have clean toilets and other facilities that you take for granted. But none of this deterred the batch from committing to a year of coaching and we all looked forward to the start!

The memorable drill: Twice a week

I was assigned coach for U12 boys and girls in KP Agrahara Government School — GKEMPS. The school was thankfully less than a 10 mins walk from Sangolli Rayanna metro station. So I used to drive to Indiranagar metro station at 6:00 AM to catch the metro train at 6:35 AM and be there for the 7:00 AM training sessions twice a week. This was at times tiring, but you always look forward to the 90 mins training session! And while on the metro, I used to make final amendments to the training routines I prepared for the day. A sketch used to look like this:

Picture: One of the best part was planning for each session and scribbling them on my notepad. Guess what D, M and F mean on Activity numbered (3)? :) 

The next 90 mins would be one of the best part: getting your kids to warm up, give them enough football based activities to get on the grove, teach two new skill based activities (or repeat old ones), learn together how to get better at the activities and how they will help in the game, game practice towards the end and finally closing the session with a reflection of the life skills that we learnt that day from the activities. It’s tiring at times, but exhilarating every single time! :)

Here’s a video summary of one of the sessions we did in the 2nd week:

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A post shared by Matthew John (@tmatthewj) on Sep 10, 2017 at 8:22am PDT

Picture: 2nd week of training with the kids. After the 90 mins coaching session, I used to take the metro back to Indiranagar and check-in early at work. A amazing start to the day, I recollect :).

Learning Football and Life Skills

JFK’s curriculum was a well researched one. They were very particular about connecting the football lessons with life skills like courage, team spirit, discipline, honesty and many others. In fact each training session was designed to impart a new life skill to the kids or reinforce one which was already taught before.

This was challenging in a good way since you now need to brainstorm about how to teach life skills and evaluate the kids’ understanding of them while also making the whole experience fun, engaging and competitive with football. I used to spend a good amount of time brainstorming with Sujeeth who was coaching U10 kids at the same school (and later joined JFK to lead operations in Bangalore). Other than the brainstorming sessions, I also checked out YouTube videos by popular football academies to learn how they ensured to impart footballing proficiency in kids while keeping it fun. Connecting all of this with life skills was tough, but that was an exciting challenge for us coaches :).

From what I’ve learnt, JFK has now made a lot of headway in the past 2 years when it comes to developing a scientifically validated curriculum that connects both football and life skills well.

Highlights of the season!

Apart from the standard coaching sessions, Sujeeth and I used to collaborate with Guru and other teachers who were part of Teach For India foundation to try out some interesting fun initiatives for our kids. Here are some of them:

a. We had a “clean the ground” day where both U12 and U10 teams committed to doing just 1 thing: clean up the entire ground off paper and plastic litters. The initiative helped inculcate a sense of ownership in every kid. They acknowledged it’s their ground and it’s their responsibility to keep it clean.

Picture: Both U10 and U12 football teams took great interest in cleaning up the ground, one quadrant at a time :).

b. We conducted a video training session for the kids where we showed them the highlights of an International football match. This gave them the understanding of how 11 players in a team take up responsibilities of defence / offence and why sticking to your position in a game matters.

Note: If you have ever seen kids play football, it’s very likely you’ve seen all of them just running after the ball. Spacial awareness and positioning in football is incredibly difficult to teach kids (and sometimes even adults :)).

Picture: Sujeeth engaging with the class during our video training session

c. We took our kids to watch an ISL match. This was another memorable experience for them. They got to see the scale at which the actual game happens and they were super thrilled!

d. Towards the end of our year, we conducted a mini-tournament (within the school) by combining girls and boys of both U10 and U12 categories. This was a instant hit since it provided an opportunity for all the team members to showcase their skills.

What happened to the tournament Venky was talking about?

So yes, we did have the JFK tournament where each of the schools in a given city competed with each other and the winners went on to represent Bangalore in a inter-city final showdown. Unfortunately our teams Agrahara Blitz (every team had a catchy name) couldn’t make it to the final showdown and my dream of doing the victory lap with the kids having won by deploying tactics inspired from Mourinho and Bielsa never realised :). But, by that time, I understood that it was never about the tournament. The enriching experience that our kids went through learning the beautiful game and also picking up important life skills was much more valuable than anything.

But that doesn’t mean the kids took the tournament lightly. We tried our best to win every match. But at the end, our aggregate points were not enough to see us through to the next round. They were sad when they lost games, but you know they have this super power to get over the failures and be cheerful in a few moments — I’m wondering when’s the last time you or I got to do that :).

Kids have this super power to get over the failures and be cheerful in a few moments.

For a batch of inexperienced players, most of them getting exposure to football for the first time compared to some schools who had kids who were running through the 2nd year of training, they fought well. From a state where they were struggling to pass and receive the ball, it was heartening to see many sequences of even upto 4 consecutive passes between players during the games. So yes, they will improve in football and life in the coming years — I’m certain of that.

What did I learn from the coaching experience?

A lot actually!

a. I became a much better communicator: Remember those moments at work when you get frustrated at the other person’s inability to comprehend your thoughts? When you teach kids, you face it every day, every moment. And that forces you to stop sulking and start working on communicating better.

b. I learnt the value of doing homework: Each one of the football sessions required me to take some time and think what football skill to teach and more importantly how it would help kids in their life. Not easy right. This was a great opportunity for me to get better doing my homework and not wing it every time.

c. Managing time: Joining JFK as a coach was a forcing function that I placed on myself, especially when I am running a startup. The main concern I had was if it would take away time that I could spend to talk to customers and build a better product at Typito. However, the outcome was that JFK sessions taught me that I could do a good job at both places by managing my time better and planning my days in prior. This is indeed a life skill you’ll learn best, according to me, if you put yourself in positions where you are forced to rise upto the occasion. 

d. Teaching or coaching is a great way to get better at your subject, attributing to the effort you put into preparing content as well as explaining it to your students with their proficiency in the subject being your goal. This experience helped me get better at football as well.

e. Most importantly, learning from kids: Coaching these kids was a humbling experience for me. These were kids (most of them) who were coming from not so well to do background and the enthusiasm they showed to learn football, fighting all the odds, humbled me. When I say fighting odds, some of them might be coming to the ground without having a proper breakfast something most of us take for granted. And others might be wearing the same pair of shorts for the nth consecutive training session since they can’t afford to have a pair to rotate for games. And while all this, they remained immersed in the experience, happy as ever. It was a reality check for me to be grateful for the blessings that I’ve gotten in life :). And yes, kids epitomise the spirit of “it’s all in the game” for me. In the ground, they might get into a rift and an hour later you find them putting their hand on each other’s shoulder and taking a walk back to their classroom.

Keeping all this into account, I’m not sure if it was me coaching the kids football or them coaching me about life during those wonderful days…

To conclude, I think everyone of us should teach or coach at least once in life. It’s certainly an experience where you get value as much as you give, if not more — it’s counter intuitive and many don’t realise it unless they give it a try like me.

P.S. JFK is now hiring their new batch of coaches for Bangalore, Chennai and Hyderabad cities. If you are game, you can fill up this form before 7th June 2019. All the best!

[sappyspeare]

thief lord alternate ending that has been living rent free in my mind for about 4 years now

 OK SO

back in fifth grade, we had to read a book for an English literature class, and it was Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke. it was a goddamned masterpiece and I loved it. 

now, I've reread it, and now I’m reminded of how much I adored that book and how much I miss the innocence of my childhood and also how similar it is to six of crows. honestly, the emotional attachment I have to this book is astronomical. 

so the ending (uh, SPOILERS) is that Scipio, aka the Thief Lord, gets his age bass boosted by a magical carousel and becomes like. 20 something-year-old dude. and the ending is pretty good ?? like, for a kids book ?? and also because Scipio is an impulsive idiot ??

BUT. I am a die-hard proscipio shipper. and now looking back. the ending doesn’t sit right.

so. ALTERNATE ENDING. 

SCIPIO: head-canon: demisexual; gay; he/they alternate future: I feel like Scipio wanting to be older was a cute plot point and part of his character, but what would have been far BETTER is if he STAYED a child. because when he’s 20 something in the ending, he’s still mentally a teenager. his mentality hasn’t exactly changed. so the first thing, Barbarossa still gets turned into a child, but Scipio gets pulled back from that, and he accepts his fate for the next few years, pools his assets until he’s 18, then promptly tugs the rug out from under his father’s feet, and leaves. he then uses his assets, and his knowledge from his schooling as a capitalists son, and opens schools, orphanages, and maybe a museum or something. a library. he also revives the Theater, because I said so. he gets a nice house in Venice overlooking the square, reading, writing, helping out with his various projects, being a philanthropist, etc .

Prosper: head-canon: ace; bisexual (he/him) [no, I’m not projecting at all] alternate future: Prosper stays in Venice. he grows up in Ida’s care until he’s 18, goes to college to study art history or something cute and fun and becomes a teacher at a local college. he learns to take a chill pill, and is the one who often calls the gang back together for reunions. after he gets into college though, he and Scipio move in together and the two of them live happily ever after because they are boyfriends and they are in love, your honour. at some point, after he becomes a teacher, they get married and adopt a little orphan girl, and they are also Best Dads.

Hornet/Caterina: head-canon: lesbian; they/them alternate future: oh my god. first of all, I love Hornet. second of all, I feel like they’re very curious about the world as a whole, so after they graduate high school (also raised in Ida’s care), they take a year or so to travel the world. when they come back to Venice, they have a cool girlfriend and settles down as a writer, and helps out Scipio with his projects and ventures. they eventually become a world-renowned writer, and the whole squad is so mcfricking proud of them. 

Riccio: head-canon: bisexual; he/they [yall cant tell me my man didn’t have a thing for Prosper] alternate future: Riccio and Mosca are best boys and I will stand by that until the day I die. they start a gondola business together, and Scipio also gives them charge of taking care of the Theater. Riccio eventually buys a small apartment next to the canals and close to the town for him and Mosca. they also take in kids on the streets and help them out.

Mosca: head-canon: ace; pansexual; they/them alternate future: as far as I remember, Mosca likes gadgets and mechanics and machines and stuff so I think they opened a little mechanics shop!! and of course, they moved in with Riccio, they take care of the gondolas and the theatre’s upkeep, and Mosca also helps out Hornet when they need help for a story about a mechanic or something. I also think they would take up art/painting in their free time.

Boniface/Bo: head-canon: demisexual; he/him alternate future: okay so Bo is an interesting character for the future! I think of course he spent the rest of his childhood days with Prosper and Hornet and Ida, then probably went to school somewhere abroad. to me, it seems fitting that he comes back in his early twenties or so, settles into an apartment near his brother and everyone else, and helps Victor with the Private Investigator stuff like Scipio does in canon. given his chemistry with Victor and how he’s kind of a father figure to Bo, I thought it would be cute and fitting. Bo is smart, and he’s a curious soul like Hornet, so I do think he’s the type to seek out puzzles and try to solve them. he checks in on Ida every week, and they have tea together.

Ida Spavento: headcanon: lesbian; she\her alternate future: she raises the kids, helps Scipio with her connections to get him on his feet when he first starts his projects for orphanages and schools and such. she gets featured in some international photography magazine, which brings her a lot of renown and stuff. she takes care of the kids even when they’re older, they have dinner with her every month as tradition and she and Victor spend a lot of time bickering to each other practically every week.

Victor: head-canon: aromantic; gay; he/him alternate future: he continues to be a PI because this man is magnificent and I would die for him. he helps Ida with the kids when they’re young, most of the gang call him Dad, he helps Hornet with her travels abroad, Prosper with his college applications, and helps Mosca and Riccio kickstart their stuff, like the Theater and the mechanic shop. later, Bo becomes his assistant and after a few years, he retires with Ida, but can still be found with Bo in his office at late hours, trying to piece together some case or another. 

So yeah! those are my ideal endings for each character. again, I love this book and the canon universe is incredible and I love it so much. I’m just a lonely gay idiot. 

I did not include Barbarossa or the aunt or the villains because I don’t like any of them and they got the ending I believe they fully deserved in canon. 

[christophercori]

Possible Blog/Journal Entry Nov 18, 2015

Ok. So, the following “entry” was written while In Brooklyn House Detention Center, overlooking the Carroll Gardens/ Crown Heights (right neighborhood?) shortly after being remanded back into custody after being out on ball for not even 30 days, following nearly 8 months on Rikers Island, which was excruciating enough in and of itself. Needless to say, my unexpected reintroduction into yet another lion’s den, after such a brief taste of freedom, was nothing short of a bad hit”, leaving the proceeding mood to be plenty somber. And so commences the woeful narrative of a young man in reflection.

House Lights:  Dim Music:  Cur ominous/dramatic, foreshadowing Jazz Note:  Written as if in Retrospection from some point in the future. So, let’s get this out of the way. between 21 and 25 I was in and out of jail. Yes, me the handsome suburban “white” boy. I had two major stints each lasting about a year (second on more like 3) with maybe a year and some change of freedom in between. You better believe there is nothing more soul-crushing than getting your life back together after a year in the “can”, just to have it taken from you all over again. Sure, I’m responsible for ending up there in first place, I made some poor, impulsive decisions I mean, sue me. Who makes many good decisions in their early twenties anyway? I just happen to have been in that small majority (oxymoron?) of poor suckers who get caught, mainly because I got to be one of those assholes so full of myself, I never thought it would happen to me. Some things I wish I could take back, but other aspects of it I am grateful for and would consider an instrumental part of my personal evolution. Why was I in jail you ask? Well the finer details will have to be suspend until a much lengthier piece comes into being, but the long short of it is the result of my menacing and hostile behavior resulting from emotional instability and substance abuse. Had I been healthier and more stable at the times of my arrest, probably none of it would have ever happened, but we can't turn back time and I've long since come to terms with paying the price of allowing myself to get spread so thin and become so unhealthy to the point where I’ve lashed out at those around me. While I’m far from playing the victim in any context, it's still ridiculous that I even did time for the petty bullshit I got myself wrapped up in, but in the end, I take responsibility for my actions and after all the insanity, I think I can say with confidence that I'm a better man for it.  Even more grateful am I than for the lessons I learned along the way, are the amazing people I was blessed enough to cross paths with, who also, totally did not deserve to be there, just as they felt about me. Some people just have “dumb luck” enough, I guess, to get their hand caught in the cookie jar, doing something the law makers” generally from upon. Rut just because you may have allegedly done questionable in the eyes of society, one cannot fairly or appropriately labeled a bad person”, something which needs serious clarification here. Just because you've been to jail or even have a felony as a result, doesn't mean society reserves the right to judge or even stigmatize you (even though they do, the fuckers). A majority of civilians, not much unlike yourself, have no idea how the criminal justice system really works (how could you without having experienced it first hand?) and to what degree it victimizes and deliberately, calculatingly dismantles the lives of some very good, if at most misguided, “impulse control lacking” individuals, who have had the misfortune of, more or less, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A majority of people who even end up arrested are victimized by some king of discrimination (a huge issue to be revisited another time), a mental breakdown we’ve all bad those moments), or guilt by association (some people truly are innocent and get caught in the crossfire of hanging with the wrong crowd). Now, once they have their slimy claws in you, they'll bleed you dry, break you down and do everything they can to kill your spirit, backing you into a corner where you're ready to hang it un or plead guilty just to get the hell out of jail (or onto state prison, which gets the clock ticking), which la not the most pleasant place to be to say the least. It's certainly not terrible (surprising, hub?), this is isn't Hollywood people, but it's no Holiday Inn either, as they say. So, after a couple of months of fighting the power, no matter how proud, strong, or rebellious you are, just about everyone sets themselves up to be haunted by this enslavement, in some way, for the rest of their lives. End of Entry #1 (to be expanded upon?)

Entry #2: Postured for a new day/first post launch of a new blog/publication whatever the kids are calling it these days. Hey Everybody and welcome to the disorienting documentation of my mind-boggling life (As if you care [laughs]). First, let me start by saying that I think this journey I am (we are) about to embark on is absolutely friggin’ ridiculous, but for some reason it appears to be one of the necessary evils of modern life for anyone who wants to be noticed for anything. Gone are the days of the next big thing showing up on a street corner, strumming a six string for space change. No those days are long gone and have been replaced by compulsive teenyboppers (is that even a category anymore?) and obsessive narcissists compulsively posting self-indulgent excrement out on every social media outlet available. Regardless of how socially retarded people have become as a result, for some freakish reason, it works People are gaining notoriety from this dysfunction, fame ever (or some bizarre degree of it) And even though human beings are gradually losing their ability to function naturally and normally in everyday life, thanks to their addiction to living though palm sized screens, this is how anything worth knowing about, gets circulated. Or at least that’s what the marketing professionals would like us to believe. While dinosaurs like me might go to the library, pick up a newspaper, drop by a community center, or peruse a bulletin board at a local coffee shop, the greater percentage of “society” is thumb-tapping their way through the search bar of their preferred information engine. I guess at the end of the day there’s nothing wrong with it except of course, the inability to say hello to a passing stranger, or get through a meal without checking for alerts, which is so incredibly rude, by the way. I suppose it's just about time that I catch up with the rest of the wonderfully dystopian populace. Like the old saying goes: “if you can’t fight’em, join'em”. So here I am world. From here on in you’re going to get to completely invade my privacy whether you like it or not. Because whether you care to cyberstalk me or otherwise, the people I'm looking for might just take notice and maybe, just maybe, it will bring me closer to my goals. So get ready world, as I post, tweet click, and ping my way through the twenty first century, while I attempt not to throw up all over myself and everything I value about my individuality. Here's to kissing that all Goodbye. Here's to my rebirth as a regular ratchet ho. End of Entry #2 Note: Disorienting originally was “Digital” after typing it up I see it probably should have been changed. Note: this could also be used as part of a fictional storyline/script as I'm not sure I could lower myself to actually publishing this.

Entry #3: Reminiscence Rant Can you remember when everything was just fucking awesome? I can. What, in God's most holy name, happened to those mind-bogglingly epic adventures? The endless nights and following morning where we wandered for miles peaking on LSD, experiencing the supernatural, making friends with homeless cartoon characters and stubborn runaway suburban kids calling themselves “gutterpunks” and “Occupiers”. What happened to the times when, all of a sudden, I'm on a subway wearing a stolen skintight glitter shirt, doing backflips next to a girl rocking a panda-bear cap with these stupid little gloves hanging like arms from either end of the accessory, while on the way to some disgusting, mold infested, totally illegal, basement rave with the illest DJs on the planet spinning the most face meltingly ass-shaking, torso-wiggling, abso-fucking-lutely, subatomically intoxicating dubstep that these ear pieces have ever had the pleasure of being blown away by. Bassdropping capsules of MDMA while being passed an endless chain of blunts until after what feels like no time at all, someone is shaking me awake, and just when I’m about to question if any of this is real, a fat glow in the dark Eskimo shapeshifter, ever so gently guides me to the exit which opens to reveal the painful slap In the face of bright, 8 in the morning daylight, only to look at mv fellow nightlife cohorts who are smiling, still wired, totally ready to continue the adventure; the words “what do we do now?” never once crossing the mind, as the flow that we're grooving with is unquestionably sure of itself. Man, how I miss those sacred moments. Will I ever get them back? Or is my yearning for them and desire to pursue or force moments like those into being. Exactly what is keeping them out of my life? Better yet, maybe those kinds of ridiculous things are only allowed to happen at certain points of one’s youth when even attempting to live so irresponsibly is even an iota within the realm of acceptable and to pursue such experiences is categorically “juvenile”? Well, fuck that!! I have faith, yet. One day, I'm gonna breath in the taste of that on-top-of-the-world air, no matter how old I get. I don’t care what anybody says. There’s no cut off age for soulshaking borderline religious experiences, never-going-to-feel-the-same-way-about-having fun. Sure, we all do have to accept reality and the responsibilities of adulthood, but that’s no reason to get bitter. Just because it’s not happening for us right now, and there seems like there are still people out there, yet to step off the “magical schoolbus.” But, how do we get back on? Does all of this fall into that realm of philosophical conversations we have at three O'clock in the morning, stoned, contemplating the meaning of life and the pursuit of happiness? It might just be. Maybe all of this just falls into the very personal narrative of my never ending quest to he truly happy, a point which I'm presently a ways from.

Having been there before, I know I'll be there again and while I'm not terribly depressed at the moment, it doesn't seem all that far away. In fact, I have a more or less framework plan for how I'm going to get there when I move on from where I’m at now, but the first step is getting out of this place. Part of me is just totally stunned at life’s great contrast. How can you go from being a happy go lucky, free spirits urban street showman, to living in a cesspool of society’s unwanted pregnancies, in what feels like a blink of an eye? Boy does time fly. What feels like yesterday, simultaneously feels like eons ago. A lifetime ago. Earlier today, some mad at the world hoodrat wannabee gangster told me I sounded like an old man, reminiscing over decades of life.

To which I responded: I’ve lived. That I sure have. I’m 23 years old and I've lived a lot of life, the details for which I’ve got little to show for other than my own words and the culmination of institution records labeling me as Bipolar, criminal, drug abuser. That's right. On paper, I’m a dual diagnosis, polysubstance abusing, mentally-ill criminal, presently laid up in jail, the lone “white-boy” in a sea of “brown” skin, for some strange reason perceived to be rich, Jewish or both, nicknamed after any celebrity I can possibly bear resemblance to, for allegedly roughing up my wife during a record breaking psychotic melt-down. In a world where the credentials hold more water than the person they represent, I'm a mentally-ill, drug addict, criminal who has a problem with women – who doesn't? Do you know how this looks? Seriously this is what I've been reduced to. These are the highlights of my "career”. In the eyes of society, I'm some kind of monster, a scumbag. I've somehow gotten myself lumped into the category which the mainstream media would call “marginalized”. Me, the kid in highschool with the long curly hair, who wore patchwork tie-dye jeans and Victorian blouses, looking like a white Jimmy Hendrix, or someone straight out of Prince music video, who just wanted to share the Love, pass the buds, and give everyone a hug. The kid who was dubbed “most likely to be famous” in his graduating class yearbook, who everyone knew just wanted to save the world, one smile at a time. And I still do, but my updated methodology is a bit more practical these days. Now, I have a stigma to live with, all of which completely overshadows and nullifies that at the age of 22 I incorporated and developed a thriving start-up, destined for success which was abruptly cut short by my untimely run in with the Law – a result of my unfortunate emotional instability which emerged from the fallout of a tumultuous and ultimately failed relationship with my now ex-wife, who I became married to and divorced from, all while behind bars. But that is another story for another time. We are, after all, just beginning to scratch the surface of this crazy rollercoaster which is my life. At this stage I don’t see the point of sugar coating any of It. No matter how bad any of it looks. I'm proud of who I am, the positive things I’ve accomplished (however overshadowed). I’m destined to achieve even greater success than that which I feel I have already tasted and I will never be ashamed of the nasty details. I love who I am and no matter how much this backwards system tries to victimize and marginalize me, I'm never going to let them snuff out this light. The End (For now)

[lifeofcmil]

26 days of joy.

The night before the LA Marathon, I had dinner with two of my friends who suggested for the 26 days after my race, I do one thing - big or small - every day that brings joy or adds value to my life.  As I’ve posted before, I’ve become brutally aware of how little I actually care for myself and it’s a struggle. When it’s my turn to enter the gates of heaven, I want to have lived a life of selflessness; to have loved authentically with my whole heart. But I’m learning: I must learn to love myself, too.

It was a challenge some mornings to figure out what it would be to bring me joy that day (especially because I made it a point to try not to repeat anything), but I found that most days, it was really simple.

DAY 1: Brett Young Concert

Brett Young is one of my favorite country artists right now.  I had his three show dates on my calendar for awhile, I just didn’t know if I could afford it and who I would go with. The week before, we received an employee discount for his final show in LA, and a group of about 15 of us from work purchased tickets and all went together. He did not disappoint!

DAY 2: Massage

After my first marathon, I stayed in Chicago with my roommate to show her around the city. Because we were out and about walking and riding bikes, my recovery was quick. This marathon, not so much. I rested for a day, and then went back to work to sit behind a desk all day. This massage was life changing, and much needed!

DAY 3: Therapy

Not much to say here, other than I highly recommend therapy for everyone and anyone! It gives me an outside point of view, in a private setting, and has taught me so much about myself and my life.

DAY 4: Home early to watch Grey’s Anatomy

I feel like at the end of the Kings season we had a game every Thursday night, so I’ve been catching up on Grey’s Anatomy on the weekends. Between that and working long hours for renewals, I made a point to (still work late and) be home by 8 PM for a live episode on the couch.

DAY 5: Dodger Game

Reunited with Dodger Stadium for the Opening Weekend of the MLB season with good company!

DAY 6: Went out downtown

People have been asking me for 2 years now where I like to go out in LA, and I really have never had a good answer, or answer at all. I have officially found my favorite spot, and had a fun, impromptu night out with my roomie!

DAY 7: Church & lunch with friends

I look forward to going to mass every Sunday, and to be able to worship God with two wonderful friends is such a blessing. We even got our lunch for free that day!

DAY 8: Phone calls with my Grandmas

Life is incredibly short, so I want to make sure I take the time to call my grandmas while I still have the chance. I miss both my grandpas so much.

DAY 9: Bought Catholic Planner

I have to thank my cousin, Mandy, for this one - she shared her Blessed Is She Liturgical Planner on Facebook, so I decided to buy one for myself and let me tell you, I am OBSESSED. It’s dedicated toward Catholic women, which is amazing, but it also gives me the month, weekly and daily pages. My most favorite part is that every day it has a part for me to check the box of: “I loved my: body, mind or soul” and then also asks me to answer what I was grateful for that day. The planner is currently on sale at blessedisshe.net!

DAY 10: Rest

I’ve unfortunately been sleeping horribly for weeks now. I made an attempt to turn my phone off by a certain time, take some melatonin and go to bed early. It was worth a shot.

DAY 11: Happy Hour

A friend and I got together to catch up at a spot we had never been to in Santa Monica for drinks and dinner. It was nice to talk to a friend who gives you the advice and understanding of your heart and what you’re going through. I know it’s easy for you to tell a broken-hearted friend that they deserve better and to move on, but I highly recommend taking a different path of advice with your friend. It makes all the difference and means the world.

DAY 12: Clippers Game

Spent the Friday night taking in the Clippers vs Lakers game with one of my best friends. And again, someone who just gets it.

DAY 13: Kings Game

I wasn’t going to count this since it’s work and mandatory, but it was our last game of the season and I decided to take it in a little more than I normally would on a game day. How fortunate am I to have worked at one of the best venues in all of sports for the last 2 years, and not only that, but to have finally found a home working back in hockey.

DAY 14: Diamondbacks Game

I am the queen of impulsive decisions and this one was a great one. A couple weeks ago I became close with my coworker, Kelsey. Of course, now she is taking a job with the MLB in New York and leaving me, so we decided to make the trip to Arizona for the Diamondbacks vs Red Sox game. We both have it on our bucket list to attend a game at every MLB ballpark. We drove to Phoenix on 3 hours of sleep, Starbucks and good ole female country music powerhouses - it was the perfect girls trip!

DAY 15: Thai Girls Night

Monday night. I had just driven 5 1/2 hours back to LA. My emotions coming in full-swinging. You know those nights where you just really don’t want to, but you do and it becomes one of the best nights? Yeah, this one. It was honestly the first time in my 2 years in LA where I got together with a new group of people (girls) and everyone was genuine, welcoming and awesome. This was also the day I started enjoying red wine.. no more “only moscato”, SAY WHAT?

DAY 16: Read & bed early

I’m honestly in the middle of 4 books right now, so I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.

DAY 17: The right mindset

This is a weird one for me to type and put into words. It was a repeat of one of my other days, and could’ve turned into a really bad night if I hadn’t made a decision that day to allow myself to have a night of happiness - to not allow anything to distract me or break me - and I did it - with a little help from my friends, red wine and honestly, techniques my therapist taught me.

DAY 18: Blog

The day before was what would have been my friend Ray’s 30th birthday. It was weighing heavy on my heart to write on my blog (you can read it below). Journaling and blogging can be very therapeutic.

DAY 19: Set no alarm

When you work a 12-8 PM shift, you get to sleep in without an alarm and it was HEAVEN.

DAY 20: Dodgers Game

Technically this is a repeat, but you can never go wrong with Dodger baseball and catching up with a friend. Although we did spend majority of the game in the Baseline Club watching the Clippers game - oops.

DAY 21: GOT Watch Party

This was another day where I just wasn’t feeling it, but I allowed myself some alone time at home that afternoon after church and lunch, and then went to a friends to watch the Game of Thrones premiere. Good food, good company, good night.

DAY 22: Girls Night

Two of my girl friends came over to drink wine, watch the Clippers playoff game and spend the night. Let me just add that I called the game - that the Clippers would win a game in the series and it would be Game 2 at Golden State. SAY IT AIN’T SO!

DAY 23: Treated myself for lunch

For people who are scared to go out to eat by yourself - I used to be you, but get over it. It’s the best, especially when you treat yourself to a birthday cake shake.

DAY 24: Home

I booked a flight home to be with my family - talk about pure joy and happiness!

Day 25: Hurricanes Game

It has been 10 years since the Hurricanes were last in the playoffs. I was a Senior in high school, never had my eyebrows waxed and Rod Brind’Amour was on the team. Being back in the building was everything I know as home. I was reunited with my family, family friends, best friend of 17 years, past season ticket members and old coworkers - people who I love so much. Not only that, but the Hurricanes won to tie the series in true redneck hockey fashion.

Day 26: Complete lazy day

It’s 5:30 PM and I’m still in my pajamas. Don’t judge me, or do. I don’t care.

After 26 days, I’ve realized a couple things:

Surround yourself with good, genuine people who support your heart

Allow yourself the time you need to slow down and rest

Planning your week out ahead of time makes all the difference in staying busy and keeping yourself accountable

I owe it to myself to keep bringing joy and value into my life

[helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog]

‘Summer House’ Star Lindsay Hubbard Wants to Break Down the Stigma of Plastic Surgery (Exclusive)

Lindsay Hubbard is done avoiding “taboos.”

The Summer House star proudly documented her choice to go under the knife and get breast augmentation at the age of 31, something she says she had been considering for a long time.

“As far as why I made this decision now, it’s something where, I lost a lot of weight about a year ago, when Everett [Weston] and I broke up,” she shares with ET. “It’s completely natural, with women. You have anxiety, you’re stressed out, you don’t have an appetite, you lose weight. With most women, our boobs are the first thing to go. So, you know, once I became less stressed and regained my appetite, and I was happier, my boobs just never really grew back and, you know, being a woman in my 30s, I was just, like, you know what? I really want to maintain a femininity as a woman.

“It wasn’t like I’m a young, naive girl saying I just want big fake t**s,” she adds. “You know, I’m a woman in my 30s and, you know, this is what I want to do for myself. There’s no one I’m doing it for. No boyfriend, no friend, no, like, you know, nobody except for me and that’s what makes me happy, so I’m going to do it.”

Lindsay shared her journey on social media, from consultations with her doctor, to day-of surgery and the recovery process. She’s nearly a month post-op and says the response from Summer House viewers and her followers has been more than she ever anticipated.

Meet Dr. Hakki!! The sweetest, most talented, and caring doctor around. I want to thank him and the incredible staff at @luxxeryboutique for taking such great care of me throughout this entire process! 🙏 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I am so thankful for being able to experience this journey from the start to now- and I am so excited that I’m able to share it with you all, because it’s a journey that I don’t feel any shame about. It’s an issue that many women face, and it’s a decision that I made for me and me alone- well because I’m an independent woman and I can! 💪 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It started a year ago when my boyfriend and I broke up. I lost weight as I became increasingly stressed and lost my appetite as one does when they experience that level of heartache. As with most women, my boobs were the first to go with the weight loss. Even as I gained my appetite back and found happiness again, my boobs weren’t growing back- even well into the summer (as you guys can see for yourselves every Monday night). At this point, I decided, as a 31 year old woman, it was time to do something about it. 👊 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I wanted physical consistency as a woman. I wanted to maintain some level of femininity that was more in line with being a woman in my 30’s rather than resembling a teenage girl’s boobs before puberty. I’ve been getting a lot of DM’s and comments from people saying I was fine the way I was before, and I can’t thank everyone enough for loving every part of me 🖤 but this decision was mine to make for myself, and I thought about it for an entire year before I pulled the trigger. It was not impulsive, it was just simply.. time! 🙌 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ This is a good stopping point. Please tune in to our #SummerHouse reunion show with @bravoandy on @bravotv Tuesday, April 3rd to see my new ladies in the flesh and hear more then! 💃 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Thank you all again for taking this journey with me- it means so much to have everyone’s love and support! 😘

A post shared by Lindsay Hubbard (@lindshubbs) on Mar 16, 2018 at 7:20am PDT

“Between my post about the breast augmentation and my post about [officially ending things with] Everett, people have just been flooding my DMs with stories of their own,” she shares. “So many women were like, ‘Thank you so much for sharing this story with me. You really, like, you’ve really made me feel OK with doing something for me and not having to worry about somebody else’s opinions.’”

“I think there’s a stigma that goes along with, you know, plastic surgery, specifically boob jobs, right?” the PR professional notes. “But nowadays, I feel like it’s so common. It’s almost like, we go to the salon and get our hair done, or go to the plastic surgeon and get a boob job. That’s how common it is, but people aren’t really talking about it. And again, I decided to talk about it, because I didn’t do it for, like, a shallow, surface-level reason. I did it for something that’s a little deeper, that means something deeper to me as a woman. It’s more about being a woman than anything.”

“I just think the conversation should be there,” she continues. “We don’t have to hide. This is not a taboo situation anymore. If it makes somebody happy to get a breast augmentation, to enhance their boobs, then we should talk about it and not feel nervous or, like, shameful about it. You know what I mean?”

Lindsay’s new body with debut on the Summer House reunion special, airing Tuesday on Bravo. She’ll also be showing off her new, icy blonde hair, a transformation she made around the same time she got surgery.

Step aside Vanna White 😜 #RitaHazanSalon Color by: @carlinaortega1 💁‍♀️ Cut/Style by: @mylo.c 💇‍♀️ Salon: @ritahazan 💆‍♀️

A post shared by Lindsay Hubbard (@lindshubbs) on Mar 18, 2018 at 11:37am PDT

“It kind of fits my personality more,” she says of the new style, which she actually rocked before in college. “I feel more ‘me’ with short, blonde hair … This is what happens when we’re in our 30s. OK, this is who I am!”

Before the Watch What Happens Live With Andy Cohen reunion, though, is the season finale of Summer House, airing Monday at 10 p.m. ET on Bravo. Lindsay teases that it’s a “healthy mix of fun and drama.”

“It comes to a head with, like, the house vs. Kyle [Cooke] and Amanda [Batula],” Lindsay says. “So, you guys are going to see that kind of boil over and, you know, we sit around a bonfire and I don’t think we did a lot of bonding.”

“I think a lot of friendships are, like, questioned at the end of the summer and that’s something, honestly, we all need to sort of evaluate as a group,” she adds. “I think that’s the biggest question that gets put on people, put in everyone’s mind is, like, can we do a summer house with each other and if so, like, what are the changes that need to be made, you know, within each person?”

“Either way, we’re all gonna go back out there,” she says of returning to the Hamptons this summer. “It’s just a matter of, who’s gonna be in the house?”

For more on Summer House, check out the video and links below.

RELATED CONTENT:

‘Summer House’ Reunion: The Housemates Unleash on Kyle and Amanda (Exclusive)

‘Summer House’ Star Stephen McGee Opens Up About Relationship With His Parents (Exclusive)

‘Summer House’ Season 2: It’s Possible Not Everyone Lasts the Whole Summer! (Exclusive)

[shmkxx-blog]

Untitled.

Right, so I need to sort my shit out. I don’t think anybody can live like this. It feels like a million thoughts rushing through my head at the same time. It becomes unbearable and they are all just that; thoughts. I need to break the cycle, before it breaks me.... before it breaks us. It sounds crazy, but for the first time in my life, I have met someone who sees under my mask without taking it off, and yet I am still afraid. I say that I’ve moved on and that I have gotten over everything that I have been through so far in my life, but I’m starting to think that I’m lying to myself. I need to get to the bottom of why it still affects me and why it still has a hold of me. Perhaps I need to start from the very beginning and work my way through my timeline, despite how painful this could be to bring to the surface. I suppose the more that I bottle it, the more the pressure builds, and that’s why I experience these emotional outbursts, so let’s try something new, something completely different.  Growing up, I had a pretty happy childhood, it just took me a long time to remember those types of memories because all I seemed to hold onto were the ones that make me freeze, that make me fearful and scared and unable to trust. My dad had a temper that often got out of control and as hard as it is for me to write this, I was no stranger to physical violence from him. I think he has blocked out that time in his life too, because the dad I had then, is a completely different person to the dad I have now.  My house was constantly filled with screaming, shouting, crying, the sounds of slapping, hitting and hyperventilating.  My parents went through a very unamicable divorce when I was 10 of which I was thrown in the middle. My dad and his family turned very nasty towards me. It’s sickening thinking of everything that they did to me. They criticized the way I looked, would corner me with a hand raised, threatening me. They swore at me. I was told on several occasions that I was a mistake, I was never wanted and that my mum should have got rid. This went on for 4 years, and by the time I turned 14, I was depressed. I started having anxiety attacks at school which would involve frequent visits from paramedics and trips to the hospital because I would lose consciousness. At this point, I cut contact with my dads family including my siblings and suddenly felt very alone and unloved. I think being at a pinnacle point of my life where hormones and emotions were flying around, it was one huge mess. Just as I got rid of my bullying family, I started getting bullied at school, physically, verbally, emotionally, mentally. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and seeing someone I didn’t recognise, like I was in there somewhere but it was so deeply hidden it was barely visible. I remember getting some nail scissors and cutting myself. It wasn’t deep, I knew it wouldn't scar, but I found that physical pain was easier to cope with than the emotional pain I was feeling inside. This bullying went on until I finished sixth form. It was never-ending for another 4 years, despite intervention by my mum and stepdad and also teachers, it carried on, even outside of the school gates. I grew too exhausted to fight it and just pretended it had been sorted.  When I was 18, I went off to university. It was supposed to be such an exciting time for me, I was starting my career as a childrens nurse, something I had wanted to do for a long time. I felt like my life could suddenly take off, but the euphoria was short lived, as the bullying started all over again. Even worse that I lived with them in the same student flat. Every night was spent in floods of tears, I had my belongings defaced and destroyed, the kitchen wall tiles were covered in marker pen, horrible names, mockery, disgusting drawings of me that I would have to clean off. They would bang constantly on my bedroom door chanting at me. Once again I looked in the mirror, and the person staring back was ghosting. Finally after 6 months, I went to the doctor who diagnosed me with severe depression and anxiety and I packed up my belongings, packed up my course, and returned home. I lost a lot of weight, i suddenly became obsessed with my weight and started making myself sick and taking strong laxatives. I started self harming again but this time it was intense and noticeable. I started smoking and drinking heavily. I became somebody that I never thought I could. I got into my first lesbian relationship, and it wasn’t me. I convinced myself that it was, but I wasn’t gay, I just tried to make changes in my life, anything that could bring some happiness where possible. I was searching in all the wrong places for all the wrong things. This girl encouraged my depression, she encouraged my self harm and even spoke about assisted suicide where we would take an overdose together. I became very emotionally disturbed to the point I started having seizures. They were psychological. My brain activity would get too hyper, my anxiety would flare, my heart would race, and I would find myself on the floor fitting.  Then I ran away. Well not exactly, I didn’t just up and leave, I needed a new start. I got myself a new job in Sidmouth, Devon and I moved down here nearer to my grandparents. It was a place I had been holidaying to since I was 6 years old. It was like home. Life seemed to be getting better, days seemed easier to manage. I was sleeping better, eating better, but the problem with running away is that your problems follow you wherever you go, because they’re inside your head. I met David. At first everything was amazing. He was loving, kind, supportive and he gave me the confidence boost I needed. He appeared when everything started going down hill again. I had started getting my seizures again, even whilst at work. Hospital became my home from home. Finally I was diagnosed with PNES (Psychological Non Epileptic Seizures). In short, my body cannot hand certain levels of stress and anxiety, so it shuts down. David was there through it all.  We fell pregnant twice between Aug 2011 and March 2012, both ended in miscarriages which were even more destructive to my mental health. During this time, I was finally diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. This means that you have to have at least 5 of the following behaviours (I had all): Extreme reactions to feeling abandoned. Unstable relationships with others. Confused feelings about who you are. Being impulsive in ways that could be damaging. For example, spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating Regular self-harming, suicidal threats or behaviour. Long lasting feelings of emptiness or being abandoned. Difficulty controlling your anger. For example, losing your temper or getting into fights. Intense, highly changeable moods. Paranoid thoughts when you’re stressed. The way I am isn’t my fault, I was born this way. It just needed some trauma to trigger it. What causes BPD?

‘It is not clear exactly what causes BPD. There are different factors that can lead to someone getting borderline personality disorder (BPD). The main causes seem to be the following’: Traumatic childhood. You might have experienced difficulties in your childhood. This could include neglect or being abandoned by a parent. Or physical, emotional or sexual abuse. Brain problems. You might have slight differences in your brain. Genetics. Some research shows that BPD may be passed on through genes. But there is no clear evidence that there is a gene that causes BPD.

It gave me some clarification in understanding myself and why I was experiencing the emotions I had. I was put on a medication called Quetiapine, which would help with the anxiety and keeping my psychosis under its peak. Not long after I went on it, we fell pregnant again in August 2012. It had been something we both wanted and we were very happy and excited especially when we had, had the 12 week scan to show everything was as normal and it was highly unlikely that I would miscarry. I still had the pain of losing my 2 previous babies, I still do now to some degree. It becomes more manageable.  My pregnancy had a few complications, but overall was a smooth, happy and exciting time. I couldn’t wait to be a mother. The day that Oliver was born, was the best day of my life. After losing two babies, I finally had one that was warm, and crying and suckling against me, and he was all mine. The first few days were an incredible experience. David was a fantastic hands on dad, he would help me with the night feeds, he would watch Oliver so I could get my head down. We were a happy family and then on day 4, my brain switched. I’m not sure what triggered it, but I was suddenly unable to be anywhere near my child. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t do anything for him, I couldn’t even be in the same room as him. I became severely mentally ill. I was sectioned into a psychiatric facility and then moved on to a mum and baby unit. I was self harming and attempting suicide. On discharge, I was put under social services and Oliver was a child in need. I had to work hard for him not to be put into foster care and adopted. This drew a huge wedge between me and David. He was having to look after a newborn baby on his own, and I knew he was bitter. I started group therapy. It didn’t seem to help at first, but after a few sessions, I noticed a difference, I started recognising my triggers, and learning to accept the bad days when they came around. I started being able to bond with Oliver. I started being able to give him a quick cuddle, and then I started to give him a bottle, then change a nappy. They brought in a care worker to work with me and help me with my relationship with Oliver. When Oliver turned 6 months old, I had worked so hard to repair everything that social services closed my case and I became unsupervised and able to be a responsible parent for my own child. It was the best christmas present I could have asked for. As my relationship with Oliver improved, my relationship with David deteriorated. He didn’t want to be involved with either of us. He would rather go out with friends, sleep and game. Yet still, I decided to marry him on 7th June 2014. I immaturely thought that it would make things ok again. At first it did. Our relationship was great, and then as the honeymoon wore off, all of our problems just reared their ugly heads. I started finding conversations to other people about how he didn’t want to be with me anymore, I found emails to other girls, off of craigslist and porn sites wanting to meet up for casual sex no strings attached, I then started finding bags of powder around the bedroom and snorting equipment. I wasn’t stupid, I knew what he was doing, and I felt that I only had myself to blame. I would ask him, and he would fob me off with stupid excuses, often getting verbally abusive with me, which would then cause me to shut down and apologise for my behaviour. Seems crazy really when I knew what he was doing. I was apologising for challenging his infidelity and drug taking. Things became a lot worse between us, the abuse became more frequent as was his sickening behaviour. The abuse became more frequent, it became verbal, emotional and physical, and he started to blackmail me. He would also throw in my face about me being a crap mother who couldn’t even touch her own baby or look at him. Something I was trying to get over. It all came to a head in September 2016 when I returned from America. Oliver was being quite difficult and causing me a lot of stress trying to get to bed. I could tell that David had, had a few drinks and I thought he had probably taken something... he had pushed me and grabbed oliver by the neck of his clothing and started screaming in his face, Oliver started crying and saying he was scared, David then grabbed him and threw him across the bed, his head narrowly missing the wall. All I can hear in my head to this day is ‘daddy no, daddy please don’t, daddy im scared’ over and over. David then thumped him, right on his back and growled to the side of his face like he was an animal. At this point I was in floods of tears, trying to get my child to cuddle him, but David was snarling at me. Then the doorbell went and the neighbour had come round concerned. He saw the look on my face, he had heard oliver’s crying and fear, and he wanted me to leave and get rid of David. So that night, I did, I waited until David was asleep, packed our bags and Oliver and I were greeted by my parents in the car as we snuck out the house. There was no looking back after that. I felt alone, and unloved and deserving of all the pain and suffering because it was all I had ever really knew.  On top of this, my granma who had been my support and my rock, passed away when Oliver was 2 weeks old from an aortic anerysm. It was sudden, and it turned my life into deeper turmoil. 

My biggest fear is it happening all over again, even though this time I know that it won’t. I’m scared of trusting, I’m scared of being loved, because it never usually works out for me, but if I want to be happy, I have to put all of this aside and move on. I can’t keep revisiting this as a setback, otherwise I will never learn to be happy. I can’t keep holding onto what I went through. I can give that advice to other people, but when it comes to taking it myself, I have a hard time digesting that information. The truth is, I CAN be happy now. I have a beautiful relationship with my son, which I was scared wouldn’t happen after our experience. I have a roof over my head, and I provide for both of us. I have the most loving and caring boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. I am so very lucky that he is in my life. I have a loving and supportive family unit who will always be there for me. My relationship with my dad and his family is even fixed. I have a fantastic best friend who is like a brother to me, and we have been there for each other through thick and thin and I know he’s not going anywhere.  Ultimately, I have so much going for me, that some people could only dream of. I need to start accepting and appreciating what I have and stop looking back to what I didn’t. So that’s what I’m going to do, this passage was a way of me getting everything down and off of my chest so that I can move on from all of this. So that it doesn’t have a hold over me, so that I can start to enjoy life and see everything as a learning curve. I wish I wasn’t as sensitive as I am, but I am and I can’t change that, it’s part of my personality, but what I can change is my outlook on everything. I need to be more positive and wake up each day feeling lucky and happy. Ryan says I have nothing to worry about and nothing to fear, so I’m going to start trusting him, and not fearing it, because I love him. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anybody in that way. We have a beautiful connection and I would be an idiot to break that and throw it away, all because of insecurities that are based on past events which I can’t change. I can’t change the past, I can change the now, so that’s what I’m going to do, change the now. Because the now is where I want to be, building a future with Ryan, Lilia and Oliver. That’s all I want. The simple life. Just us. Because having that, makes me the luckiest girl in the world.

[sassmill]

Do all those ask things 1-104

I saw this comingASK ME THINGS1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? Hello Reese, how did I get here exactly 2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed?Lmfao she jokingly told people we were dating and liked to hold my hand and mentions the kiss way too much and shit but she never explicitly expressed actual interest in a real relationship and she kept telling me about girls she was talking to on tinder and asking me for relationship advice but I don't have time to play games and she graduated so who the fuck knowsThe kiss was for acting class but she was way too handsy with me outside of class for it to be just a stage kiss and by the end of the semester I was just kind of annoyed 3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care?If we're talking the good kush then no but other stuff yes4. Is your last name longer than six letters?Yeet5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober?Well my character was an alcoholic and the girl kissing me had just finished pouring beer into my mouth So "Tilly" was drunk but I was not 6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up?Lmao give me till the end of the summer before I answer this (that's a big fuckin joke because I'm a pussy and won't do anything)7. What does your last received text say?TRUE8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?idk I think we did the scene full out a total of three times9. Where was your last kiss at?The black box theater on campus10. When is the last time you saw your sister?Sometime before she went to bed idk time is a human construct 11. What do you drink in the morning?Coffee 12. Where did you sleep last night?My bed 13. Do you think relationships are hard?Just because something takes effort doesn't mean it has to be hard 14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you?Done my fuckin employment paperwork for camp a hell of a lot sooner 15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems?UGH having to have an actual conversation and not being able to diffuse everything with humor like I usually do 16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?Rainy I am so unbelievably pale 17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?Yes my fuckin dorm neighbor all this past year had the exact first AND middle name as me it was fuckin weird18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants?Haha joke's on you I don't wear pants to bed if I don't have to 19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now?You know I sure fuckin hope so because I'm actually starting to lose my mind 20. Does anyone like you?Platonically I'm popular for once and it's working well for me so I'm gonna pretend that that's what this question is asking me 21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S?Nope22. Is the last person you kissed gay?She's not straight 23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand?SEVERAL 24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?A lot but I'm impulsive and afraid of commitment so I know that any choice I make I will probably regret 25. In the past week have you cried?Haha more like how many weeks has it been since I haven't cried26. What breed was the last dog you saw? Friendo (mutt)27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower?Idk I kinda do a combo I move while drying 28. Have you ever kissed a football player?Oh honey not my gay ass29. Do you think you’re old?I've been told I'm an old soul and I've personally felt like a 46 since I was about 1330. Do you like text messaging?Since I struggle with verbal communication (that isn't rehearsed like a script is), YES31. What type of day are you having?Went to IKEA and the hardware store then went home and felt hopeless about a married woman so all in all pretty gay32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?Not really I'm all for body modification but for myself piercings freak me out33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather?Cold this is literally logical because I can't remove my skin when it's too hot but I can put on a fucking sweater when it's cold 34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you?I LOVE MY ACTING TEACHER CLAIR SO FUCKING MUCH HE IS A BRIGHT LIGHT AND I DONT THINK I WOULD'VE DONE SO WELL THIS YEAR WITHOUT HIM35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling?fuck I meanRealistically a relationship But I passed desperate when I joined a sugar baby website so I'll take a fuckin fling at this point36. Are you a simple or complicated person?I'm like what would happen if you tried to put together IKEA furniture for the second time without the manual and you have a little too much confidence in yourself because you pulled it off fine the first time with the instructions but you quickly realize you need help and then everything just turns into screaming 37. What song are you listening to?Literally erotic asmr videos judge me if you want I've lost the ability to care38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it?Honey if I ain't sorry your ass isn't getting an apology 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you?The fuckin cheese monster 40. What made you start liking the person you like now?Holy shit do I even want to get into thisTrick question the answer is yesSo I've known this woman for over ten years and have been getting increasingly close with her for sixIn the past four years is when I've fallen for her and let me tell you in all honesty: it started as a hate fuck fantasy. I used to hate her so so much. AND THEN I realized I was gay and Things Changed ™ plot twist: she's actually an incredible person who helped me build up my confidence and feel proud of my sensuality and yeah I think I've been solidly in love with her for two years now but she is married to a man so fuck me rightShe's also twice my age which has lead me into some deep self loathing shit it's complicated and I'm still working through it 10/10 would not recommend She did call me her flirty girl tho at least I'll always have that whatever the fuck it's supposed to mean41. When did you last receive a text message?12:12 am which is about half an hour ago 42. What is wrong with you right now?We don't have time for this I can assure you 43. How well do you know the last female you texted?Well first of all I pretty much text only females, so jot that downAnd I mean god how long have we been friends Reese I think I know you fairly well for an Internet friend I know about your true feelings for bowser so 44. Does anyone disgust you?Jesus don't even fucking get me started 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked?Yes are you sensing a theme here46. Are you in a good mood right now?Eh47. Who was the last person you talked to in person?My father48. What color shirt are you wearing?Grey49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?That I have my permit test tomorrow lmao50. Anyone you’re giving up on?I mean people change so fuckin give it time51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for?See number 4052. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t?NOPE when I decide I'm done I'm fuckin done 53. Do you like rain?Ye54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?Within reason 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?See 4056. Do you like to cuddle?Yes fuck57. Are you shy?Not really I mean I have a variety of facades for when I'm insecure so58. Do you get along with girls?I'm gay59. Have you dated the person you texted last?Yeah what a memelord60. What do you carry with you at all times?My dark past with the musical Cats61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you?My dude I already volunteer in one for free you bet your ass I'd jump at the chance to get paid to deal with ghosts for onceI'd have a lot more patience with the Puritan minister calling me a witch because I'm a woman who speaks out of turn if I was making money 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months?I'm a very adaptable person so I should hope so63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship?Nope64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute?Well when she kisses me on the cheek I die inside so I'm gonna go with probably 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week?Ashlinn and Kristina reaffirm my belief in the existence of love every day and that's the cutest thing ever66. How old are the last three people you kissed?25, 19, 18 but honestly none of them count so?67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself? I'm cheap and don't like physical contact or intimacy with strangers so you do the math68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print? Leopard 69. Do you have any stickers on your car? My dude I don't even have a license 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne? Who71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone? I'm posting this via carrier pigeon so72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut? Idk whenever the last buskin society party was 73. Do you like diet soda? Only Diet Pepsi 74. What color are the walls in your room? This really awful green color that my parents painted it when my youngest siblings were sharing it (a "gender neutral" color)75. Are you 16 or older? Yeet76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars? Ugh I watched two whole seasons and still couldn't find a way to care77. Do you have a job? I have three technically but two are summer and one is at school 78. What are your initials? EVG79. Did you ever have braces? For five fucking years plus other shit to fix my overbite 80. Are you from the south? God no 81. What does your last status on facebook say? If You Notice A Beautiful Purple Thing On The Sand This Summer, Run Away Immediately 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed? Yeah see I haven't had a real kiss yet so 83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad? Idk I mean I think I get along better with my dad but that's just because I am literally exactly like my mother 84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics? Oh god yup both I dropped a girl on her head 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters? I think it was Get Out86. Do you smoke? Carol Aird Taught Me How To Hit A Blunt At Two AM On A Softball Field 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? Heels88. Is your phone touch screen? If I touch the pigeon it bites me89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly? This is a joke my hair has absolutely zero natural texture 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house? I'm bland 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool? Pool I get anxiety from nature have you ever seen Scooby Doo and the Loch Ness Monster?92. Have you ever made out in a car? No93. …Had sex in a car?I'm really bitter right now94. Are you single or in a relationship? Really 95. What were you doing last night at midnight?I think I was crying 96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks? A couple months ago just randomly. My school is down the road from an amusement park. 97. Do you like the camera on your phone? I guess98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits? No99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? I am a heavyweight mom friend so no100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate? Yup101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? I'm gay102. Name your favorite Kesha song: I fux wit Your Love is My Drug103. Do you have any tan lines right now? I have the minimum amount of melanin a person can have without actually being albino I am physically incapable of tanning104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? Fashion is a societal construct