#if someone asks me what encompasses all language I will show them this video

[f1zz-k1d]

writing, drawing, and talking about cane users

A guide by me, a disabled person tired of the shitty content i keep seeing.

SO, a lot of people have been drawing character Philza using a cane.

Great!

There are just a few things i want to point out.

(i am a young disabled person with chronic pain in my legs and back and low blood pressure that causes me to faint and collapse. i am waiting on a cane right now, but for now I use a short collapsible walking stick made for hiking :)

Writing

The big issue I see a lot with people writing Phil as a cane user is a loss of autonomy, which is a very common trope in writing when writing disabled people. Here's how to avoid it!

Let's say, for example, in your fic, Phil is having a hard time walking on, like, sand. (side note, sand and gravel and all loose and unstable grounds are very hard for those of us using a cane or a walking stick.) His friend Techno helps him walk over this ground, by supporting or carrying him. A good way to write this would be, for example:

Phil: This ground is hard for me to walk on, could you help me out, Techno?

Techno: Of course.

Or:

Phil is visibly struggling to walk on the uneven ground.

Techno: Would you like help walking here?

Phil: Yes, thank you!

What happened in both of this situations was that the disabled person was given a choice in getting assistance from an abled friend. Now let's see how not to write this:

Phil is having trouble walking on the uneven ground. Techno, his abled friend, picks him up and puts his cane in his pack without asking.

Techno: Obviously you need help. It's terrible you need a cane, Phil. I hope you get better.

Phil swoons like a silent film star.

Obviously this is a little exaggerated! But it encompasses a lot of the bad tropes we see often with a disabled character.

1. A loss of autonomy/Not asking! Our mobility aids are an extension of ourselves. Don't touch 'em without permission, Badly Written Techno! And don't write a character "helping" a disabled person without asking first. We can ask!

2. Treating disability as a bad thing/"Hopefully you get better." Obviously, if most of us had a choice, we would like to not be in pain all the time. But that isn't a choice! A lot of disabilities are chronic, so we won't get better. And the biggest thing: "It's horrible you have to use that mobility aid." Nope! Our existence is not terrible. It's who we are.

Another small note: "Disabled" isn't a bad word!

Here's something I see a lot, once again written with our friends Phil and Techno.

Phil: I know you must hate travelling with someone so... disabled...I must... slow you down so much...

Techno: Phil... to me, you aren't disabled... you're strong... just...differently abled...

Phil bursts into tears at the show of support.

So. That was a lot. First of all, a lot of disabled people, for one reason or another, struggle with this sort of self hate. The idea that we "slow people down," that we're "just weak," or that we're "not disabled enough for xyz." It's fine, and realistic, to write disabled characters thinking like this! But the idea that disabled people are strong despite their disability, not disabled, and strong is just silly! Also, just call us disabled. We don't have "special abilities" and we're not "handi-capable." We're disabled, and that's okay.

(Side note. If you want to write the "Don'ts" into a story, feel free, but be aware of the fine line this can walk between realistic depiction of people's attitudes toward disabilities, and plain ol' ableism. In general, just try not to reward this behavior/make it look good and righteous when characters do it in your stories!)

Drawing

This is mostly because I feel so bad for all these characters with improperly drawn canes!! A cane that's too tall will force a user to work extra hard, often straining muscles in the arm, to move it in sync with steps. One that's too short will throw off someone's balance and gait, often causing more harm than good. A good way to test how tall a cane should be is the wrist test:

[Image ID: A simple drawing of a man in side profile. He stands tall and relaxed. In front of him is a curved-top cane with a line leading from the top of the cane's handle to his wrist joint, showing how tall the cane should be. Below is a line from the bottom of the cane to his shoes, labelled "Street shoes." End Image ID.]

In general, the cane should go on the opposite side of the leg/joint that hurts. This is so the natural opposite leg-to-arm walk cycle isn't interrupted by the use of the cane. I use my stick in this way, and then switch hands when I need to!

If you need references for drawing or animating a person with a cane, just look up videos and photos of people with canes! For animating a walk cycle with a cane, try to find videos made by medical professionals. They know what they're doing!

Talking About Us! There's really only two things here, that I am TIRED OF.

1. "Old man!" jokes. Obviously we all call Phil an old man, he is in his thirties after all! But making jokes like this in direct reference to a character using a cane is harmful. Young people also use canes and mobility aids! Another thing, some of us are part timer cane users who only need them on long or strenuous walks, or particularly bad illness days in our lives. Same as how most wheelchair users are ambulatory.

2. Language like "bound to [mobility aid in question.]" Generally, we prefer language like "cane user" or "person with a cane."

If you have questions, google 'em, or ask a disabled person. Feel free to put questions in the replies or shove them in my inbox

Now go and create! I know I love seeing content of people with disabilities, especially very cool and truly brave men like Philza Minecraft!

Please reblog this post! You recieve: a kiss on the cheek and eternal gratitude from your local disabled artist and writer ❤️

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

[miohmy]

general kuroo/tsukishima headcanons (sfw and nsfw)

I’ve had this rambling draft saved for over a year but for @alfonse I’ll make it public <3

general/sfw HCs for kuroo

His love languages are quality time and physical touch, obviously.

He’s a Scorpio sun, but I imagine his rising sign is Capricorn and moon sign is Gemini >:)

Needs at least 8 hours of sleep each night or he will be grumpy the next morning. He’s a deep sleeper and moves around a lot.

Kuroo may act thick-headed at times, but don’t be fooled, he’s smart, intuitive, and incredibly aware of his surroundings. Moreover, he has a strong memory and never forgets anything. This makes studying for him relatively easy. He tends to do well in school with little effort, especially in the subjects he cares most about (i.e. chemistry and physics). His grades in other classes like history and literature are more on the average side, however.

(this was before Kuroo was a confirmed capitalist) Kuroo would study something in line with these interests at university. I envision him becoming a chemical engineer and doing research in a lab setting (pls take this moment to imagine him in goggles, gloves, and a lab coat).

Kuroo sometimes falls back into his shy habits from time to time. Volleyball has gotten him out of his shell and he’s fine making friends at school, but if he’s in an uncomfortable situation, he tends to be on the quieter side.

Once he decides he likes someone, he really likes them. Kuroo isn’t the type of person to half-ass anything, especially relationships. He either loves you, hates you, or is indifferent.

Kuroo is a naturally good dancer and he knows it. He’s got surprising rhythm and has no shame showing off his skills.

He’s a total lightweight when it comes to drinking. He doesn’t drink often, so whenever he does, the alcohol hits him hard. Generally, he’s a happy, giggly drunk. He’ll start off the night loud and talkative, but eventually the sleepiness will set in and some unlucky soul (usually Kenma) will be tasked with taking him home.

general/sfw HCs for tsukishima

His love languages are quality time and acts of service. Tsukishima is bad when it comes to open communication. Rarely does he say “I love you” to his friends/family. He’d rather let his actions and service speak for themselves.

He’s a Libra sun, but I imagine both his rising sign is Aquarius and moon sign is Virgo.

A light sleeper. Tsukishima averages about 6-5 hours each night.

He is the worst dancer you’ve ever seen and you couldn’t pay him to make a fool of himself in front of other people.

Furious reader. Reads about 70-100 books each year. Prefers reading non-fiction, speculative science fiction, classics, and mysteries.

He’s definitely a night owl, as it’s when he gets his work done. In the mornings he has a hard time waking up and needs 1-2 hours of peace and quiet to prepare himself for the day.

In school, Tsukishima excels at most subjects (because he works hard), but he’s especially passionate about literature and English. I envision him working as a translator or an editor when he’s older (just something in the publishing industry).

The kind of music that Tsukishima listens to ranges. He mainly loves alternative, but he’s also into the weird, experimental stuff too.

He’s more of a casual drinker than Kuroo. He enjoys wine, sake, and certain IPAs. He also knows his limits well and will stop before getting too tipsy. Very rarely will he allow himself to get drunk. 

general/sfw relationship HCs (living together edition)

Whenever Tsukishima sings in the shower, Kuroo will stop by the bathroom door to record videos. The first time he did, it was meant to be a joke, but eventually it became a habit. As it turns out, Tsukishima is a great singer.

Because of their differing sleep schedules, many nights encompass Kuroo bothering Tsukishima, not-so-subtly hinting for him to come to bed. Tsukishima will often resist and insist that he needs to finish work. Kuroo is stubborn, however. On more than one occasion he has put his foot down and manually shut Tsuki’s laptop so that he has to come cuddle.

Speaking of cuddling, you would think that Kuroo is the big spoon, but he actually likes to sleep on his stomach. That, combined with the fact that Kuroo moves around a lot, makes cuddling difficult. Sometimes Tsukishima will sleep on his back with Kuroo draped over him like a weighted blanket. Mostly, however, Kuroo will sleep on his stomach, head stuffed between the pillows, with Tsukishima folded beside him, holding on to his shirt.

Kuroo said ‘I love you’ first. Tsukishima then proceeded to freak him out by responding with ‘I’ll get back to you on that’. After two weeks of radio silence, he finally responded with an out-of-context ‘same’. Kuroo never forgave him for that.

On the rare occasions where Tsuki gets drunk, Kuroo takes full advantage of his vulnerability and coaxes embarrassing declarations of love from his inebriated boyfriend (filming them, of course). Lots of “tell me how much you love me” and “who’s the best boyfriend in the world?” The poor defenseless Tsukishima will gush unabashedly, only to wake up the next morning with a massive hangover, tormented by Kuroo as he plays the videos on repeat with full volume. 

“Look at how cute you were, Tsuki!”

“Delete that right away or I’ll punch you.”

Kuroo doesn’t know that much about music (in comparison to Tsukishima) so he tends to stick with what’s popular/on the radio. The only time he branches out is when Tsukishima makes a curated playlist for him. Even if he doesn’t love all the songs, he’ll listen through the entire playlist on repeat, just happy to have a gift from his boyfriend.

Despite his confidence and posturing, Kuroo was honestly not that experienced when it came to relationships, dating, or sex before Tsuki. They were both each other’s first time, first love, and cannot imagine dating anyone else. 

nfsw HCs

To no one’s surprise, Kuroo is the more kinky one of the pair. There’s a lot of stuff that Kuroo wants to do with Tsuki. Actually getting him to agree to the ideas, however, it another matter entirely.

The kinks that Tsukishima will indulge include: light bondage (blindfolds, hand cuffs), sex toys, mild dom/sub play, hair pulling, shower sex, spanking, and filming.

Kinks that Tsukishima has refused include: public sex, choking, ball gags, and more elaborate role play scenarios.

Tsukishima moans very softly during sex, if at all. Kuroo, on the other hand, can’t seem to shut up. He loves to narrate how Tsukishima looks, tease him, and ask pointed questions (”How does it feel?”, “What do you want me to do?”, etc;). At first, Tsukishima hated this part of him, but it’s gradually grown on him.

Tsukishima and Kuroo are equally clever, confident and domineering people. Therefore, their power dynamic in bed is rather fluid.

Generally, Kuroo likes to be in control and have Tsukishima at his mercy, especially when the latter is acting prideful and condescending. At the same time, Tsukishima is not the type to be submissive to anyone. Sometimes Tsuki will surprise Kuroo by suddenly giving orders, just to spice things up ;)

In terms of praise and degradation, Kuroo enjoys the latter. There’s a reason he fell for Tsukishima, after all. He low-key likes to be called names during sex. Nothing too harsh, of course. He just really enjoys indulging that bitchy, rude side of his boyfriend while simultaneously making a mess of him.

For Tsukishima, the opposite is true. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Tsuki loves to be worshipped by Kuroo. In fact, the quickest way to get him to melt is to be showered with sincere compliments and praise, especially when he’s getting close - nothing will push him over the edge more than being told he’s doing such a good job.

Put frankly, Tsukishima and Kuroo just have a lot of chemistry in bed. The sex is always good and even when their relationship inevitably mellows out from the honeymoon period, they are able to maintain that electric spark that first endeared them to each other.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hi Evoe, can I ask for you to write this MCxVinca fic? The request is where mc made deal with demons by giving up ability to feel touch to obtain darkness and light powers so she can keep up with Vinca and her friends. However, demon magic corrupt mc’s soul. Mc went dark and betray her lover by using Vinca’s knife to kill her so she can become Pride and take her mind reading power. Mc made it looks like it’s from Vuzgamad’s ambush and claimed that Vinca made her a successor before her death

Part 4

Warnings:

Mental Health Insane Levels of denial Body Phobia? Strong Language Blood and Gore Assisted Suicide Forced Murder? Self Sacrifice Major Character Death A majorly self indulgent, arrogant ghost writer.

Written by: @evoedbd Part One, Part Two, Part Three ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Rae had always heard of happy endings. The hero made a great sacrifice, endured the trials of their mistakes and rose above. The hero swooped in, got the girl, the Hollywood kiss and crescendo music of life… But everyone knew Hollywood was full of shit. It was a series of cucked up hopes and dreams, of self-denials wrapped up into comical tales to avoid the pain, or forgiveness where life would have kicked the shit out of them. As Rae contemplated her existence as it was, she finally understood. There was no happy ending for the characters who never made it. In life, mistakes weren’t undone by an overlay of laughter, or a kiss between hero and leading lady.  There was no black and white, no Superman and Lex Luthor. No Batman and Joker. In life, mistakes led to pain, and sometimes there was no resolution. Sometimes, there was no happy ending. Sometimes, there was just darkness. Just a simple question.

How?

Rae damn well understood that question right now. She felt it to the core, to the bone in her mental scape. This was her own mind, the place she was meant to be strongest. The place every war was won, before she even took a step onto a battlefield in the “real” world. But how?   How was she going to even win this war when even the act of trying to lift a finger of a single part of her mind was harder than declaring world war three. When she’d fragmented herself so far, broken herself into so many little pieces trying to protect those she loved. For all the window dressings, for all the add ons of experience and DLCS of happy memories, this was all that she had left. All she amounted to. A crumpled figure in a dark room; a world of black with a solitary beam of light baring down on her broken body.  How could there be a happy ending when she was so powerless?  So broken?

She’d thought she understood torture, understood disconnection. She’d lived without touch for over a year now, slowly forgetting the warmth of Vinca’s hug, the taste of a kiss. How it felt to have another break so willingly into her hands, only to reconstruct them in the afterglow. Her life had been exhaustion. A visual game of when to pretend she felt, and when to ignore.  How long a hug should be held before someone got awkward. If a handshake was too hard. Or too fish wristed. Touch had become sight, visuals and sounds. Life, nothing more than a movie.

How? How had the script gotten so fucked up?

She was meant to be the hero. She’d done the heroic thing. When things were hopeless, she’d sold her soul. She’d agreed to sacrifice the ability to touch another when she’d shaken Vuzgamad’s hand. She’d sacrificed to save those she loved. She’d SAVED them. Vinca. Onyx. Yvette. She’d SAVED them. She’d struggled, for so long, she’d pretended everything was fine. She’d bitten back her tears until Vinca stilled beside her. She’d laughed and apologised when a hug for Onyx was too tight, too painful. She’d done the heroic thing. The hero was meant to get the girl, meant to swoop her up into a cinematic kiss, not beat them into a bloody pulp. Not make them cry, make them plead. She was meant to be the hero. She wanted to be. Just once, Rae had wanted to be more than the side chick. More than the love interest. No, fuck that. Rae had never subscribed to the stupid roles and rules. All she’d wanted was to save those she loved, be strong enough for them. She’d been stupid enough to take the deal, to shake hands with the Devil. To sell human touch for the power over Light and Shadow, over all they encompassed… at the time, it had seemed worthwhile. The only way to overcome the odds as a human amongst heroes. For once, she’d been able to fight alongside them, instead of being the one tending the wounds. But the cost had drained her, spiralled out of her control. She couldn’t even identify when she’d lost control. Was it the first time she’d recognised the schemes building within her? The first time she’d answered Vuzgamad’s call? Taken the credit for victories when it had only been the Demon’s words that allowed them? Was it when her mind had snapped, fighting itself until what she identified as herself was imprisoned within her own mind as darkness paraded around, scheming to destroy everything she cared for as she was forced to watch?

How could she save Vinca when she couldn’t even make her body behave?

The horror movie continued, reaching the crescendo as Rae watched her own hand close around one of Vinca’s blades. No! This wasn’t how the movie ended, it couldn’t be! She screamed, kicked and clawed at the bars of her cage, as if her mind was some video game. Maybe if she jumped down the right tube, she might be able to reach the button. To shut herself down. If she smashed the spacebar, she could leap across the chasm, stitch herself together enough to redirect the blade… but she was so tired. Drowning. The water was pushing her into the bars of her cage, the landslide was swallowing the light. Only those solo screens were clear, the screens which showed her baring down upon Vinca… but hands were slushing through the water, digging her out. There were keys in the door, but she was too tired to turn the lock. Too tired to kick. To move her arms. Limp. So close and yet so far… dragged. A solid hand around her wrist dragged her to the door, was pulling her to the surface.  

Then it was lips upon her own that finally granted her the air her lungs had screamed for.

How? After so long, how could she feel the warmth against her? The puffs of agonised breath against her cheek through fine nostrils, the unseemly clunk of teeth against her own. It didn’t matter. She could feel… after so long, she could FEEL those lips against hers. An addiction, a benediction. She gasped, lifting her own hands to a familiar blond pixie cut, pulling those lips into her own. Crushing herself to them. Taking. Everything and anything… This was everything. The breath of life, warm and spreading down her own chest… why weren’t both hands in Vinca’s hair? She’d raised both of them, she swore… but pressure? Firm, warm, gentle. Hands surrounding one of hers. Her right. The hand which had been almost melted around the hilt of Vinca’s blade. The answer was there, just beneath the shadows in her mind, a mind clearer than it had been since she’d shaken Vuzgamad’s hand. A demon… She’d made a deal with a demon! A demon who was laughing as if they’d just watched a comedy. Not just a single demon. All of them, disbelief and malicious glee echoing through the air. As if the unexpected was delicious. As if they’d won.

“Vinca?” Trepidation flooded Rae’s voice as her eyes opened, expecting to find fury reflected in the skies. Instead, she found agony. She found reluctant acceptance, found a lone tear flowing down a beautiful cheek, catching between parted, bloodied lips. There was too much blood. It stained pristine white teeth into a sickly, blotchy pink. It trickled from the corner of a heartbroken smile, the face of courage in darkness. Sunlight after forty days of rain… Bittersweet. Her warmth left Rae’s hands, coming to gently cradle the former mechanic’s trembling jaw. A lone thumb brushed fine lips, urging her to be silent, leaving metallic warmth behind.

“Rae…” Vinca’s voice was a whisper on the wind, a smile given vocal form, relief. A whisper from the heart, exposing everything. Her eyelids fluttered, the weakened wings of a bird… a bird who’d been shot, was bleeding, an arrow buried within its heart. An arrow that looked just a little too much like Vinca’s blade. The Pride assassin let out an overly wet, weak laugh, one punctuated by a glob of red spilling between her parted lips. From her laden tongue. For one bright moment, her eyes shone, reflecting the stars hanging in the stillest night sky. Rae should have known that meant that beauty was already dead, inevitably gone, with only an echo remaining. Just like said stars, Vinca fell, legs giving out, leaving Rae falling under her weight. Fighting to hold the larger body upright as confusion erupted across her expression. It only lasted a few moments before her gaze drifted to Vinca’s chest. Red. So much red. Layers and shades, from brown-tinged to red tinging black. Just like med school. Just like the cadavers, Rae hadn’t cut cleanly, so they’d begun to bleed over her.  Just like a self-saucing chocolate pudding, with the insides bubbling out of a cut crust. A volcano bleeding lava. Red. Insides leaking. Flowing. Cut. Bleeding… the length of the blade rattling within a fleshy sheath.

“Fuck… that… hurt.”

“VINCA!” Rae felt herself shriek, her body erupting into action. A single blink had everything rushing back. The way she’d fought, tried to stop the blade. Vinca’s hands pulling the blade in, forcing Rae to commit to the blow. To the….

“H-haven’t heard you that l-loud for a while, Squirt.” Vinca’s voice was so quiet. So feeble. Weakening. Strength draining with each pulse of her blood.

“Don’t you fucking joke, Wren! I stabbed you! I am so fucking…. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Just stay still, Vinc, I can fix this. I can fix this. I can you, I just have to… I can fix this, I swear. Just stay with me, please! Please… I can fix this, PLEASE? Let me fix it…” Rae pleaded, her voice rising in octaves as her hands desperately pressed down on Vinca’s chest, on the wound. This. It was her thing. Fixing people. Helping people. She had to do this, had to save Vinca. Had to fix it. That’s what she did. Fixed things. Fixed people. Repaired bikes and flesh. This was HER thing. She had to fix it. She could fix it. She SHOULD be able to fix it. But she couldn’t, she knew that even as she stubbornly denied the looming inevitability. Vinca had lost blood. So much blood. Too much blood. She needed blood! Now! Frantic, Rae began to scoop at Vinca’s blood, dragging it back towards the gaping hole in her chest. Trying to shove it back through the wound, like a child trying to restuff a teddy bear the dog had chewed. Paddling in the kiddie pool… but that pool was Vinca. Fading with every splash. The sheer amount of blood was so slippery, so gritty, leaving Rae’s palms sliding across Vinca’s skin with desperate, frustrated cries. She threw her everything into it, all of her measly body weight. If only she was fatter. Worthy of the biggest loser even. Over three hundred pounds. That she’d stopped exchanging the chocolate bars for apples. That she hadn’t been so dedicated to her fitness. Maybe if she was just a kilo heavier. Her hands larger, more meat and less lean tendons. If she was more flab and less ab…

“Rae…” Vinca implored, fighting until she managed to lift her befouled hands to Rae’s jaw. She trembled, barely managing a brush of her fingertips across Rae’s flesh, leaving strokes of her life as wet paint across Rae’s jawbone. There was something so gentle in her voice, pity and sorrow mixed with that unmistakable fondness she held for Rae and Rae alone. How had Rae missed that? The little tones amongst tones that Vinca held for everyone in her life. Tones which told tales far wilder than even the most drunken buffoon standing on the most rickety table in a dingey, run-down bar. Tales more touching than Shakespeare’s finest tragedy. More moving. Rae couldn’t believe she’d missed it, like a ship in the night whilst she was the Titanic sinking into the blues of Vinca’s eyes. She was once again bewitched by the depth of blue. Why had she not appreciated this? How had she not seen? They weren’t just blue, not just a flat shade. They were almost a braiding of blues forming a beautiful whole. Little circles and patterns Rae wished she could have spent forever memorising. They were the sky, she always knew this, but they weren’t just any sky. They were… she couldn’t even process. Never, in all her life, had she seen eyes so blue. Not just their colour, but their spirit. The essence of colour and emotion. Blue. Blue to counteract the red. No… No. Rae Lang couldn’t accept this, not now. Religious Parents denied their kids were gay for years, surely Rae could master the same level of world-altering denial. Maybe Mrs “something smells” down the road could offer her lessons on the haughty head tilt… But Rae knew, deep down, couldn’t ignore this. No amount of denial was going to pump the blood back into Vinca’s veins. Was going to undo the very lethal damage. Vinca Wren was dying in her arms, and all she could do was think how to keep the world turning even as it disintegrated. By the look of understanding in Vinca’s eyes, she saw every torment, every fight Rae was facing. She pitied. Afterall, Vinca knew she was no longer going to be there to save her fiery little Chinese Mechanic. But… just like the ocean, just like Vinca’s eyes, the pain seemed to run deeper. An undercurrent of guilt, until all Rae could do was stare, was let herself fall closer once she noticed the tremble of Vinca’s lip. The Pride assassin growled, a sound more akin to a wet mewl from a half-dead kitten in an alleyway, yet the sound seemed to be enough. She threw her body into the movement, lifting her hands, tangling her long fingers into Rae’s hair in an effort to hold her closer. She pulled, letting her dying weight bring Rae’s forehead to her own, bring them as close as the physical world could allow. Never close enough.

“It’s you. By my sacrifice, it is you. By the power of us all, we choose you. B- by our decree, it’s you.” Vinca’s voice was so fragile, precious breath given to form such a simple sentence. Her words skimmed across Rae’s lips, hot, laden with magic. The taste of smoke, destruction and sugary sweet. The tang of metal, but beyond the blood of Vinca’s lips brushing her own. No, it was as if she’d swallowed Vinca’s blades, as if they were running molten down her throat.

“Please don’t leave me.” It was weak, a pathetic plea half sobbed, half-whispered. The strongest words Rae could summon, the closest to truth she could give. Everything hurt. How her knees felt against the cold floor. How every gash had begun to scab over, only to break again when she moved too suddenly. How Vinca, normally larger than life, was brought so low… the knives within her body, that creeping, molten sense that sought out every pain and bolstered it. Vinca’s sad smile, an expression she felt tickle her own along with the bump of a sharp nose.

“I’m sorry… My soul to repair yours, Rae. My sacrifice.” Vinca gurgled, one hand sliding from Rae’s hair. The Chinese woman sobbed, a broken, bitter sob as one of her hands chased that hand, clutched just above the hilt of the dagger. The strength of Vinca’s grasp was surprising, holding Rae’s hand even when the Chinese woman tried to withdraw. There was something immobile between them, a texture too similar to the hilt of Vinca’s blades, yet so impossibly soft. Nothing she could identify. Nothing she cared to. Not now.

Suddenly, communication was clear, as if she’d gone through life staring at water droplets across the surface of a mirror, diluting the image, and finally, someone had come and wiped them away. Vinca had wiped them away, taken those naturally formed zig zags and streaks away and finally let Rae see everything. She could hear it, a thousand gripes and thoughts flickering around her, all laid out like candy behind the glass. All she had to do was reach for what she desired, and it was hers. No payment. No cashier to tell her no. She could delve into anything, into anybody, shove her grubby fingers into any pie and nothing could stop her. Nothing would ever be the same again. She was strong, unending power, a pillar of the human world and yet removed from it by her very existence. Only the most special would see anything beyond this, beyond the mantle she’d had thrust upon her. People like Vinca. Like Onyx… like herself. Just as she had the moment she’d accidentally said gay instead of Rae. Just like she had when she’d asked Vinca who she was, and meant it. When she’d not taken everything for granted, even though thinking like a mirror was so much easier than acknowledging the droplets she could never have erased… the moment she’d unintentionally stepped up and dropped her name into the hat. The only name Vinca had seen worthy, and the only name she’d never wanted to burden with her pride.

“No. No! You don’t get to do this! You fucking… you just, GAH! Stop sacrificing for other people! Stop it! Take it back, Vinc! T-Take it back!” Rae screamed; grief forgotten in her wrath. Fuck this. Fuck everything! Why was it always Vinca? What kind of world would do this to someone so generous? The world, fate, humanity… All of it was a cancer, devouring from the inside out, turning Vinca into a husk with air in her lungs. Rae refused. She couldn’t be another statistic on who’d taken from Vinca… but she was, wasn’t she? A kiss more metallic than blood has passed more than emotions. It’d been Vinca’s gift. Her everything, the transfer of her mantle. Of her soul… Rae didn’t want it. Not when the cost was so high. Yet, greedily, she cradled it to her chest, gathered the power internally even as she physically tried to gather Vinca closer, as if she might ward off death.

“Oh thank fuck. Thinking is so much easier than talking.” Even in their minds, Vinca sounded pained, a fading note Rae had just caught on the wind. The pulsing of beats across a chasm Rae could never cross. A beat she couldn’t tune out, couldn’t fully hear. Limbo. Imperfect nothingness, thus becoming something. Something which would soon be nothing more than the fading note in time, as all life truly was.

“Don’t you fucking DARE! Vinc, take it back! Y-you can’t!” Rae spoke out loud, refusing to accept, refusing to play. Could Vinca even read her mind anymore? Was she even..? There was a difference between them, a difference to Vinca. A difference to Rae. Suddenly, Vinca was no longer larger than life, no longer a sin incarnate. She was so… human. Completely. Rae knew, just as she knew she would take her next breath. Just as she knew another tear would fall, that even superhuman, she could never shed enough tears. Perhaps that was why she bled, her body letting her grief flow freely. A droplet of blood offered for a thousand tears. Her entire body sobbing, staining her hoodie, her shirt, her jeans. Was this why Vinca had always worn red? To hide the tears. To hide the blood she shed?

“I… won’t leave you. T-they can’t h-have my girl.”

“Vinca! Please! I love you, I ca-” Rae swallowed, throat too thick to continue.

“Let me save you… one more time, just let ME save you. Not Pride.” Vinca’s internal plea was soft, a million answers to the questions shooting around Rae’s subconscious. Another blow to the heart. Why now? She’d fought so long, loved so long to get even a skerrick of an answer from Vinca. She’d practically had to get a doctorate in psychology to even begin to understand the complexities of the human in her arms. Now, after all this, she was just being given the answers? Just given EVERYTHING? She had NEVER wanted everything. Never wanted something to just be given to her for just existing. She’d never wanted to be among the stars, not when she could turn and watch Vinca shine brighter. Now though… the stars were forced into her hands, life smiling as it snuck Vinca away, looking at Rae as if she’d gotten the better deal… she hadn’t. The stars, the depths of the oceans, the arcane. None of it was worth Vinca Wren. It was a cold comfort, to hold such power, when the hole in her heart was growing between the slowing beats of Vinca’s.

“This wasn’t how it was meant to go…” Rae whispered, her eyes sliding closed, eyelids only fluttering to let out her tears. She rested her forehead to Vinca’s, breathing in every gasp escaping the former Pride assassin. Dirty, tainted air, more precious than the gems of the world, the stars in the skies, than the mysteries of the deep. Treasure was not simply all that glittered, not when compared to a dying heart. Life. That was the true treasure, the soul the gleam or soot concealing the prize. And Rae had taken it, taken both so selfishly. She could feel it, an inexplicable sense of Vinca filling her lungs, patching the damages the demons had inflicted. Weaving into her being, until where she ended and Vinca’s patchwork begun was almost seamless within. Almost. Rae knew where to look, where to find every gnarled scar, every torment. She would always know those scars.

“I was meant to save you.”

“Right… cause loving me, treating me like a human, reminding me of who I was doesn’t count as soul-saving. In every cliché sense of the concept, Rae, you did. If I could… I’d smack you.  Just… stay with me.” Vinca’s internal snark was sharp, enough to earn a startled laugh out of Rae. A short burst of amusement and disbelief before it faded. Before Vinca let herself collapse, let her eyes drift closed, lips peeled into a tender smile.

“I don’t think I’m opening my eyes again, Rae… thank you, for a last laugh.”

“Vinc… No.  No, no no, stay with me!  Just a little longer, please.  I can’t let go.” Rae sobbed, her voice shattering, catching in the back of her throat. That one frustrating area, just behind the roof of her mouth, just at the beginning of the throat. It ached in that one stupid place, where no water could reach. Where no pain could truly be soothed. She didn’t want it to be. If soothing was letting go, she wanted to burn. To suffer. She’d live her life in this limbo, these few seconds that stretched for minutes. A novel to explain a single minute. She’d forever be an uncompleted story if she didn’t have to endure this. Didn’t have to listen to Vinca’s final thoughts trickle away.

“I knew. The moment you screwed your own name up and announced you were Gay, I knew… I’m sorry I wasted time being… It’s so cold. Death is fucking freezing, Rae… Please don’t leave. Don’t make me be alone again. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Never.” Rae vowed, projecting everything into the way she held Vinca’s hand, holding with as much strength as was left in her body. Hard enough to crush the bones, bones Vinca wouldn’t feel anymore. Her short nails bit into Vinca’s flesh, leaving little crescent moons, drawing more blood. It wasn’t enough. Never could it be enough. Her hands were too weak to hold a life from the claws of death, even with every power flooding her veins. All she had was a moment, a breath taken, one which she feared would leave her words falling on unhearing ears. It didn’t matter if Vinca heard them or not, whether she spoke in time with Vinca’s final moment of consciousness. It buzzed within her, within them, the sentiment. The magic weaving them together, a final mockery to every deal made with every devil. To everything Pride had forced upon Vinca from the moment love had made her accept the mantle… just as it had led her to lay it down. Just as it moved Rae to accept it.

“You’ll never be alone again, Vinca Wren.”

[writethehousedown]

Things Are Really Cool (In Nazareth) (Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: wow hi, welcome to whatever the hell this is? this is a sort of a kind of a n19f verse/masp verse crossover set some years after the originals take place (but you don’t need to have read either to read this), borne out of the semi-autobiographical experience of my last few weeks at work trying to teach five year olds mid-pandemic. basically Nina’s a stressed primary teacher and Monet is her primary teacher girlfriend. this is fulfilling the prompt “Nice” only ten days late and also probably has one million and one typos in my haste to get it out in time for at least Christmas xo regardless, i hope u all enjoy and in the words of boyband JLS, “mewwy cwistmas”.

disclaimer: there are a couple of lines i’ve yoinked out of tv shows here- “lesbian having a panic attack” is adapted from Kimmy Schmidt and the “what are you, forty?” ones are from Always Sunny. leave me alone i’m too tired to be funny at this time of year xo

fic summary: When Nina’s headteacher asks her to pull a Nativity play out of thin air with only a week to organise it, Nina is simply too nice to say no. As a consequence, she is blindly oblivious to what her girlfriend Monet is planning, with useless lesbian results.

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.  

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,��� Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.  

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.  

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

And Nina had never been one to say no to anything.

[emptymanuscript]

Believing Contextual Reality

One of the channels I subscribe to on YouTube is Jill Bearup’s That’s Fighting Talk! which is lots of fun, interesting, and I recommend it. She analyzes fights in movies and talks about how you convey and misconvey the movie’s goals through the fights.

Over lunch today I’m watching her video on the combat in Wonder Woman 1984. And she had this great quote:

Everyone has their own level of reality bending they’re prepared to accept. But there comes a point where people just stop being interested in something because, even if it's not on a conscious level, some part of their brain just doesn't believe it. If you don't have a language for talking about fights then you maybe can't explain why something isn't working for you. But if your brain doesn't believe what's happening it's just not going to be enticing. If it feels fake or it feels pointless then it just becomes boring. While a huge part of the "feeling it" is the setup and the emotional beats, another big part of it is making it feel like it could be real in the context of the world that you're in. If Diana can fly, great, but if Diana can't fly yet, she shouldn't land like she's gently stepping off a podium. She shouldn't swing like she's not supporting all of her weight on one arm. She shouldn't flip a truck end over end even if it is possible for her jump above it in a mighty leap.

Remove the specifics from this quote and this is a deep truth about storytelling and how nearly every aspect of story works.

For the most part, audiences don’t have a full and sophisticated language for discussing story issues of any kind. Even the things they think they know are often based in partial understandings of what is going on. There is no end of people who will lecture you about cliché that don’t have the foggiest idea of what makes one use of the event a cliché and another not.

That doesn’t mean they don’t recognize problems. It doesn’t mean that problems won’t disturb them to the point that they’ll disengage with the story. All they don’t have is a way to tell YOU why it isn’t working. They just know it doesn’t. And they have to go into full mental acrobatics to try and explain why, at which point they’ll often mess it up and convince themselves of something entirely untrue.

This is WHY so many experienced novelists and writing teachers insist you should always listen to someone tell you there is a problem with your work but never listen to anyone’s solutions. Spotting there is a problem is something everyone can do. While explaining what the problem that has been recognized is, is a complex skill that’s difficult even for other experienced writers.

But a lot of it does just come down to a contextual verisimilitude. The audience expects a story to work in a certain way and has a limit for variation. While there are general guides, everyone has their own individual threshold. So you kind of have to point and shoot and accept that you’ll miss people. You just have to convince ENOUGH. That’s all you can do. And most of doing that is just making sure the logic of the story works. If you set a rule, you must stick to it. If you alter a rule, you must spend time adjusting the Audience’s expectations. Because if you don’t, even if it isn’t right away, they do start to disengage and reject that reality.

The second the audience starts doing that, you’re living on borrowed time. The life of your work will be exactly as long as it takes for the audience to stop giving you a chance to fix it. The more they love the story, the more time they’ll give you but that’s a dangerous hook to hang your hat on.

So: the important question: HOW do you keep that consistency? How do you prevent people from disengaging.

Make it clear to yourself that you are assuming reality

Unless you actively write down a rule for your story, force it to conform to reality as you understand it.

If you are aware that you deviate significantly from the norm in terms of how you view the world and reality, acknowledge those differences and add them to the list below.

Write it down

Even though I’m terrible at this, I’m telling you, this is the solution. EVERY place you intend to deviate from exact replication of how you expect the real world you personally live in to work, write it down. Those are the real rules and laws you have to watch out for. They’re the physics of the context of your writing. And there are more than you think at first

If you’re writing in a specific genre, your genre WILL have contextual rules. They ALL do. Even if it is as basic as: in Fantasy, Magic works OR in Romance, there is a happily ever after. These are rules that define differences from boundless reality, define reader expectations, and define the boundaries you MUST work within if you want someone to pick up your stories and read them because of the genre.

KISS

Keep It Super Simple. No, I mean it. Keep It Simple, Stupid. If you have overlapping rules, see if you can reduce them to a single, all encompassing rule. If you have duplicate rules, toss them. The less rules you have on your written down list, the better. That doesn’t mean cheat. Magic exists doesn’t cover that I can sacrifice my life so you’ll live. Yes it uses magic but that isn’t an intrinsic expectation of magic existing. This list exists for you to use in writing your story FOR YOUR AUDIENCE. The list exists to help you tell them what is going on. The more you have to tell them, the more they’ll tune out. How much did you want to stop reading this? Consider this post as what your reader has to go through for every point on your list. You can only get away with so much and you can only make it so complicated. Keep It STUPID Simple.

For every item on your list, you must plan at least three events that SHOW (no telling for you with this one - though you can also tell in addition elsewhere) the rule in operation. You must show that this is truth in the context of your story. For things like the happily ever ending, what you’re looking at is events that prove that such a thing is possible, even if it isn’t happening at that exact moment. it’s a way to prove sub aspects of the truth.

Iteration is great. Feel free to expand on the basics in more interesting ways. Audiences love watching simple concepts grow out into more meaningful, important, and complex arrangements.

Contradiction is forbidden except under very special circumstances.

No, seriously, don’t. A contradiction is setting yourself up for failure.

Even accidental contradiction, must be weeded out and destroyed. These are the rules of your universe. Invalidating them is teaching the audience that the rule doesn’t exist.

Ok, yes, there is a special circumstance. Which you should avoid unless you absolutely can’t avoid it. If there are conflicting rules set in tension, such as “There is Magic,” “People who love can’t do magic,” “Romances get happily ever afters,” then, and only then, can you do your best to be clever about contradicting one rule in service to another. Such as maybe the sorcerer learns to take out their hearts at every dawn so they can go be a sorcerer every day but at night they put their heart back in as the sun goes to bed so they can live every night happily ever after with their true love. That Way, they are truly fulfilled in all walks of their life and they live truly happily ever after. But understand, if you do something like that, it’s going to be one of the main threads of your story because it won’t actually work well any other way. So you better be darn sure that you NEED that contradiction.

CONTRADICTION IS FORBIDDEN!

I know I just did that up above but I’m serious. Especially about the accidental contradiction. That’s going to be a part of your editing. You’ll need to weed through your work looking for all the places where you have accidentally proven something that contradicts a point on your list. That list is building instructions from the divine. Follow it religiously. Drive the contradictions out.

(Optional) Ask

Just straight up ask people if they’ll buy what you’re selling. Do you read romance? Would you believe a fantasy story where love made it so you couldn’t cast magic? Would you be willing to try a book about a sorcerer who tried to keep magic and win their true love? Would you believe me if I said they DO live happily ever after?

[retorioworld]

The One-Stop, Interview Prep-Shop for Video Interview

If you’ve ever wanted a one-stop, interview prep-shop, this is IT. 

From an in-person meeting or a video interview, we're here to help.Interviews can be the most intimidating thing in the entire world. A close second could be asking someone on a date—in real life. You know, not through an app. Swipes aside, we’re aiming to lay out the prep work for a fantastic interview.

 The kind that feels like you’re floating on air afterwards or the kind where you hear the cash register’s KA-CHING after an eloquent and to-the-point response.

We’ve outlined:

Interview homework: what to do to prepare for the (video) interview

During the interview: what to expect, what to avoid, and what to deliver

The interviewer's 3 essential questions 

Interview Homework

Like a quote on Pinterest once said, “Proper preparation prevents poor performance”. Abraham Lincoln may not have said it, but if he had a fondness for alliteration, he probably would have. After all, he is the figure that said, “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe”. Preparation is where you win the interview. The interview is where you show the interviewer you won.

Research the Company

The first line of defense is a good offense, a well-known military strategy. The same goes with an interview. Researching the company is essential to create a positive impression. It shows you’ve prepared well, take the opportunity seriously, and may possess a few ideas on how to contribute. Not all research is created equal. It’s important to land on a few key areas. These areas will prepare you to freestyle if any unexpected questions arise; they also showcase how thoughtfully you’ve considered the company, its industry, and its potential roadmap.

When researching, find the answer to these questions:

How do they view themselves?

What sets them apart in their particular niche or field?

What are keywords that showcase their uniqueness?

What are some ways that their intention may fall short of the reality?

If possible, learn about these areas:

Recent news and/or highlights.

You can find this out in the PR/News section of their website—companies love to brag about themselves understandably. Check out their social media channels, including their Twitter, LinkedIn, and Facebook for news. For negative things (or less-glamorous news), ask ye olde search engine, Google. Type in the company’s name and hit “News” and a slew of information will be listed.

Most famous client and/or project.

Check out who their customers are and check out whether these organisations are small, mid-sized, or giant corporations. You’ll be able to get a grasp onto who their audience is, giving you information on what their potential business goals may be. Additionally, it sheds light on a specific company’s niche: they may be selling accounting software to airlines or FitBits to dog food companies. If they’ve historically been selling FitBits to dog food manufacturers but also landed a big project with an agricultural firm, this could give you ideas about you’re a great fit as they expand.

Know the Job Position

This may be the most “Dad-like” advice—ahem, obvious—but it’s an important point to thoroughly investigate. Look over the job description, and take some notes. A little exercise might be helpful:

Print out the job description

Pick a colored marker or pen and circle skills or areas you have direct experience in, that was your main “job”.

Pick another colored marker and circle skills or areas you do not have direct experience in, but have been related. ie. you ran a company’s social media, but learned to create infographics.

Write down how you’ve developed and/or learned these skills, like attending a webinar or an online course.

Your “direct skills” education

Your “related skills” education

Write down why this job position stood out to you personally—do you have a particular passion about the product, the industry, etc? Why are YOU drawn to it?

Know Why You’re a Fit

Use the earlier job description analysis to help you build a story in your mind about why you’re a fit. This is the time to reflect on possible questions or concerns the interviewer might have, “You worked as cosmetics store manager and now you want to work as a Data Scientist at our company?” Highlight how you taught yourself, took online courses, and always had interest in computers (your thesis was on how cybersecurity after multi-stakeholder organizations). Don’t be ashamed of your past; this is your story: own it and then construct the narrative.

Practice Talking About Yourself

Now that you know you’re a fit and you’re taking control of your narrative, it’s practice time. Another quote coming your way: “Practice makes perfect”. Interviews are often a nerve-racking affair. However practice is the proverbial shot of Vodka to interview anxiety. It makes things a bit better. You’ll know what to expect and how to answer. Use the list of common interview questions below to make flashcards or have a friend interview you. Research by Rice University and Michigan State University shows that "deliberate practice” or “engagement in structured activities created specifically to improve performance” as the biggest predictor for success and performance improvement.

What is deliberate practice?

Deliberate practice is purposeful and systematic; it requires focused attention over a period of time. A famed golfer, Ben Hogan, broke down each section of the golf game and studied how to master each section.

Similarly, deliberately break down each step of the interview process:

the introduction/overview,

insight into skills and experiences

the “challenges” faced

odd-ball questions (questions about industry, position, random trivia)

availability

closing questions.

DURING THE INTERVIEW

Show up on time.

If you’re a person that has a habit of arriving late. Make it your goal to get there 30 minutes beforehand. Being late to an interview puts you on the weaker foot; remember YOU’RE the prize—finding dedicated and skilled talent these days is getting tough. When you’re running behind schedule, you forfeit that hand. Now you just look like the genius who is a jerk. Avoid being late at all costs. If you're lucky enough to be having a video interview (video interviews means worrying less about road traffic), still make eye contact and be on time.

Always Call Casual Cannibals Into Pink Washpots

Don’t worry, you won’t have to call a cannibal anywhere—it’s a pneumonic device to help you remember 8 essential characteristics to exude in an interview: be authentic, concise, confident, interested, passionate, and warm. The (video) interview should be a pleasure to hold, both for you and your interviewer(s). These traits are guideposts in what important feelings to project, from the moment you shake their hand till you send a follow-up email. With a video job interview, you may want to emphasize body language, eye contact, or vocal pauses or a bit more. In video interviews, sometimes the camera may disengage, so be sure to make the potential employer can see you emotionally connect with questions.

Authentic

No need to be anyone else but you, boo. Really. You got this interview, so be the best version of yourself. The real “you” may be a person who prefers to observe and stay silent or be a slob at home. At an interview, you’re showcasing how you’ll be at the workplace, what kind of colleague you’ll be. Remember, job interviews are meant to assess fit between the organization and employee. This experience, an in-person interview or video, should be unique and mutually beneficial. Being authentic is one way to assure a match.

Concise

You’ve practiced your responses. Great. Be sure to keep responses under 90 seconds. That doesn’t necessarily mean taking the whole 90 seconds, but in general keep your answers to the point. Add emotion to them, if appropriate. In video interviews, be sure the camera is capturing your expressions.

Confidence

Keep things upbeat and positive. Remain confident in outlining how your skills align perfectly with the job requirements. Don’t feel ashamed or anxious about gaps in your resume; be confident in how you present them and how hard you worked to make up for any deficiencies. Employers want to see people who know their skillset is solid, but also confident to highlight their weak points and how they’re addressing them. In interview videos, be sure to come across sincere with marked pauses, emphatic head nods, and at least one ear-to-ear smile.

Passionate

Employers receive several applications for a position. If you’re interviewing for big corporations like Google, they receive thousands of applications. Share what excites you. Tell why this job aligns with your personal values and goals. Passion is one of those traits that’s difficult to hide or fake..

Warmth

Your hands may be a little clammy from nerves, but keep the conversation warm and easy-going. How to show warmth? When you’re doing prep work, jot down some potential warmth-inducing stories. Even if it's not in-person interview, a candidate story creates a special memory for the interviewer.

“Tell Me About Yourself”

This may be the most dreaded question in an interview. “Um…I studied Chemistry and like bread?” It’s a tough one as its encompassing and open-ended. This is simply an introductory question; as the interview progresses, they’ll be able to learn more about you from your later responses. To assist you in answering this, examine yourself:

What am I good at?

What do I enjoy?

What is the unique way I approach a problem?

Give an example of how that happened in the workplace

  The Interviewer’s Secret 3 Questions

At the core, a potential employer has 3 essential questions. The questions that interviewers wish they could ask, but try to answer for themselves:

“What’s it like working with you?”

They’re trying to answer whether you’ll be a cool person to work with. Again they know they’ll be spending considerable time alongside you; they don’t want to hire a jerk or someone that doesn’t contribute to a team project. The more you share, the better picture they’ll gain about working with you.

“Are you a willing learner?”

Are you a person that is teachable? Do you have a good attitude about trying to learn new things? Or are you a person that doesn’t really value trying to learn new skills as needed? Most employers understand if you don’t have the tools necessary for the job; they’re looking for someone who is an eager student.

“Do you take the initiative?”

No one wants a team member that waits for instruction. Are you an individual that has taken on new challenges and projects because that’s what your past employer needed—even before the employer realized it? Highlight your initiate with an example or two. Show the interviewer you can “pull your weight”, while still always trying to contribute to the larger team’s success. Self-starters are a great addition to any team.

Any other special tips if it's a video interview?

Interviewing videos and in-person interviews differ by only one variable: creating the best setting for a video interview. Luckily that's one variable within your control. Video interviewing is very much a candidate-centric approach to interviews. It gives a candidate and those scheduling job interviews a range of conveniences. For a video interview, you may want to keep these key choices in mind:

Use a well-lit space

Interviewers want to see your face; video interviews with good lighting goes a long way. It’s a little odd when people’s faces are in the dark. That may be the primates in us speaking, but we don’t really tend to trust those in dark lighting. Find a room or corner that has natural light that hits your face. Be sure that the light is not behind you, otherwise your face will be in a shadow.

Eliminate a distracting background

A video interview may be an excuse to clean up your living space. Clear out any distracting pieces of artwork, clothes, or anything else that may make an interviewer go, “Wow, that’s a little messy” or “That’s a bit inappropriate”. If you have any questions, stray on the more conservative side. If your prize, mounted stuffed pig head seems a bit too much, just take down for the video interview.

Check your tools (camera, phone, connection, etc.)

Double check that your Internet connection is fast and reliable. You may want to check out Speedtest.net the day before an interview. As a broadband speed testing tool, it assists in measuring how quickly your connection is. If you do it the day before, chances that connection will crash minimizes. Be sure your camera is up and running. You may want to do a test call with a sibling or friend. If your video interview is on-the-go, make sure your phone is charged, or have a charging cord nearby.

Dress simply

In a video interview, an employer typically sees only above your shoulders via the camera. Which is great if you're just wearing pajama pants. Focus on wearing non-distracting clothing. Sometimes even the most fabulous outfits don't translate that well on video. Wear a simple blouse or collared shirt for video interviews that will allow them to concentrate on you.

Interviews, video or not, don’t have to be intimidating. It’s a conversation where you get to showcase your professional narrative and interject what makes you so special.

Retorio is a video-based behavioral assessment powered by AI. It uses facial expression, language, gesture, and voice to create a Big 5 Personality profile. Companies like BMW and Lufthansa, leverage Retorio's AI to support their own talent management teams. 

LEARN WHAT MAKES ELON MUSK, ELON MUSK?

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[lilfellasblog]

Lights Out

Summary: Logan's job consisted of many important things critical to Thomas' life. There was no room for error. He cannot make mistakes.

Until he makes a big one.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. This is a Tumblr ask! Thank you to the anonymous asker who waited patiently for me to write this, and then continued to be patient because I was trying out the queuing thing on Tumblr and accidentally made it so this posted here the next day. WHOOPS!! Sorry anon! You’re amazing and so kind and I REALLY hope you enjoy this fic!! I decided that since Virgil is usually the one getting hurt and needing comfort in these fics (esp in mine LOL), I wanted to switch it up for you so you could have something unique! And I figured that the central conflict in this story would also make it a little more unique for you! I hope you enjoy!

TW: crying, insecurity, self-doubt, negative self-talk, power going out and being left in the dark, mention of panic attacks, very vague allusion to a probably unsympathetic Deceit. If I missed any let me know!

Word count: 1864

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Logan was hunched over his desk, in a posture admittedly not the healthiest but he could hardly be bothered. Thomas had three projects with outside channels and he had to update his Sanders Sides web series soon, even with the deal with Marvel. That, on top of meetings with his company, planning a video schedule for the second channel, and managing household necessities and bills, and one might find Logan rather frazzled.

(Thankfully, Patton had helped take over grocery shopping, meal planning, and cooking, only corresponding with Logan on the budget. It was one less thing Logan had to worry about.)

His forehead and back were tense, his eyes were terribly dry, and his mind was racing. His hands were shaking as he jumped from one task to the other, adrenaline flooding his system. Normally, he wouldn’t get to this point. However, with how scheduling with his company and outside individuals and companies for meeting and filming had gone, he’d been on high alert for almost two weeks now. Logan desperately hoped that the schedule would come together and Thomas would get a small break from filming and meetings; he’s seen the strain it’s taken on his Host and on the other core Sides, and they were running ragged as well.

Logan checked over the schedule Adri had sent them and compared that against the rest of the crew’s schedule.

Yes! Finally! This can work, I just need to mark this down and-

Suddenly, panic sweeps through the mindscape along with shock. Logan quickly rose up into Thomas’ realm to see… nothing. It was completely dark. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he heard Virgil rattling off possibilities that would inevitably end in their demise, Roman declaring he’ll slay any intruder that dares threaten them while offering to serenade everyone, Thomas trying to calm him and Roman down while he looked on his phone to see what was going on, and Patton tripping over things in the dark while he tried to comfort Virgil.

Logan was frozen stock still, realizing instantly what had happened.

I forgot to have Thomas pay his electric bill. The website was taking too long to load, so we were going to work on it another time when the website wasn’t so slow. This is my fault. They are upset and panicking because I have failed in organizing Thomas.

His heart shattered as he listened to Patton lead Virgil through breathing exercises.

I have caused my boyfriend unnecessary distress due to my incompetence. Such a simple oversight on my part. A foolish oversight. One that would not have happened were it another Side.

Roman was checking the perimeter of the apartment for intruders, hand on his sword while he sang Make a Man Out of You under his breath. Normally, he’d be belting out songs at the top of his lungs, which only went to show his level of distress. Thomas was realizing what had happened and looked at Logan, with only the light from his cell phone screen to see.

Thomas, Virgil, Patton, and Roman deserve a better Logic. I am clearly incapable of managing the simplest things, and now we have had our power turned off. Food will begin to rot, and we just went grocery shopping. This has impacted the budget. The increased stress of not having electronics will be incredible, and the lack of air conditioning in the Florida summer may cause health concerns. This is my fault, and my fault alone. I am incompetent.

Logan sank out to his room to figure out how to survive until the power came back on. He didn’t hear Virgil calling his name.

/////

Logan had been staring at his desk morosely for a half hour, shoulders hitching and silent tears dripping down his stoic face as he observed the chaos his desk had become.

I cannot manage Thomas’ schedule. I cannot manage his bills. I cannot manage his household needs. I cannot focus to even begin to help Thomas manage while the power is out. What good am I? I am no good. I am useless. A useless, dysfunctional Side who only makes Thomas’ life more difficult. I make him unhappy. I make the others unhappy.

Logan’s felt his chest tighten and a painful lump form in his throat. His face began to crumple despite his best efforts. Just then, several tentative knocks sounded at his door.

“Come in Virgil,” he called, managing to keep his voice mostly calm.

Virgil opened the door and walked in slowly, assessing the situation. He knew Logan rarely got this upset over something, and to tread carefully.

“How’d you know it was me?” he asked lightly.

“Your knocks are tentative, compelled by your concern to make sure you’re not interrupting someone. Regardless of how upset you may be or your level of need, your first concern is always the convenience of others. It is admirable to a point, though foolish after that point.”

Virgil huffed out a laugh. “Thanks L.”

“You are welcome.”

Virgil’s face softened at Logan’s factual response and his complete overlook of sarcasm. That was always one thing that could calm Virgil; Logan wouldn’t keep anything from Virgil or misunderstand something he said. Logan took what Virgil said at face value and spoke to him in a direct manner. There was no guessing his intent or the “true” meaning of his words, no chance to get it wrong, no chance to accidentally upset him because he didn’t read between the lines correctly…

Virgil shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind. There was no use dwelling on the past, and it wouldn’t help Logan now.

He cautiously walked closer to Logan. “I saw how fast you got out of there. Couldn’t see your face too well though. How are you holding up?”

“My spinal column is intact.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Talk to me babe.”

Virgil patiently stood next to Logan in silence for several minutes, letting Logan gather himself and his thoughts, breath still hitching with the occasional sniffle. Emotions did not come easily to Logan, so processing them and figuring out how to express them were two challenges that required his full attention without interruption. And as much as Virgil wanted to comfort his boyfriend already, if Logan felt he didn’t express his feelings properly or felt that something was unresolved, there would be no making him feel better.

Finally, just as Virgil’s anxiety began to grow, Logan spoke.

“My job encompasses many things. I am the language center of Thomas’ brain, I manage his work schedules, and I assist in the management of household chores. Notably, this includes ensuring bills are paid on time.”

Logan paused, and Virgil didn’t dare say a thing.

“If Thomas had a more functional Logic, he would not have forgotten to pay his electricity bill. We were in the process of paying it, but I decided that the website was taking too long, and therefore we would return to the task at another time. Not only did I fail to notate that in our budget, I also failed to set a reminder to check the website at a later date, and I did not remember to ensure we paid our bill.”

Logan’s voice began to wobble as he stiffened his back, attempting to control his expression. “As a result, Thomas’ health may be at risk, we may have to throw out food, which will impact our budget, there will be a late payment and reconnection fee which will also impact our budget, there is increased stress on all of you, you nearly had a panic attack, Thomas will have to work exclusively at the office, and his sleep will be disrupted.”

Logan choked back a sob, his voice coming out thick. Virgil felt his face growing hot and pressure building behind his eyes, threatening to make him cry. “I am an incompetent, useless, harmful Side. I do not perform my job adequately, and as a result you all now must suffer for it and attempt to successfully think of how to survive until power can be restored.”

Virgil waited a moment to see if Logan would continue, audible sobs choking off in Logan’s throat. When Logan didn’t continue, Virgil put a hand on the back of Logan’s chair.

“Can I give you a hug Lo?”

Logan sniffled and nodded as a sob finally escaped him. Virgil pulled Logan up out of his chair and had to catch his intellectual boyfriend as he collapsed into Virgil’s chest. Logan was letting out heart-wrenching sobs, self-hatred and grief echoing around the minimalist room. Virgil held onto Logan tightly, rubbing his back and swaying them, his own tears flowing down his face at hearing his boyfriend so anguished. They stood there for 10 minutes, until Logan’s sobs began to peter off.

The genius pulled back slightly. “M-my apologies, I did not mean-”

“If you apologize for needing to cry, I am going to physically fight you!”

Logan let out a watery laugh, which mended some of the cracks in Virgil’s heart. Virgil wiped away his own tear tracks, then reached up and gently swiped his thumb over his lover’s sharp features before returning his hands to Logan’s shoulders.

“Babe, how many times have you helped me come down from a panic attack?” Virgil asked rhetorically.

“Since I’ve known you, 867 times.”

Virgil was stunned into silence for a moment. “...holy shit. Okay, and how many times have you helped redirect the three of us so we could actually be useful for Thomas?”

Logan smiled wryly. “I believe that number is beyond my reach.”

“Smartass. How many times have you helped Roman refine a script?”

Logan frowned and tilted his head. “I’ve done so for every script, you know this.”

“I know. And how many times have you helped Patton work through and accept his feelings?”

Logan hummed in thought. “309 times.”

“Logan, we’ve all fucked up on our jobs and needed your help. You’ve managed to carry that, plus your own responsibilities, really fucking well. You’re allowed to fuck up every now and then. Let us help you for once. Please.”

Logan sighed in defeat, unable to resist the pleading look in Virgil’s eyes.  “Very well.”

“Hey, L.”

“Yes, darling?”

Virgil stepped closer to Logan, their chests nearly touching. “You do so much for us. One mistake doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human. And no one's mad at you. Not Thomas, not Roman, not Patton, not me.”

“Technically, I am a metaphysical human.”

“It makes you a metaphysical human. Come on, you’ve been working yourself to death lately. Let me take care of you for once. How does a back massage, some tea, and some cuddles sound?”

Logan smiled softly at Virgil, the smile meant only for his boyfriend. “I would love nothing more than to spend this evening with you.”

Virgil smiled back and kissed Logan, slow and sweet. He didn’t stop until he felt some of the tension melt from his boyfriend’s shoulders. And he didn’t stop taking care of Logan that night until he was asleep, fully relaxed, on Virgil’s chest.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 6:  Animals

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.  

Word count: 1691

Content warning: Racist cop

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the matchless pandabearer

           The officers eased up when they realized that Lorel was in 100% human form, which was a short and plump one, at that; someone had told her once that in her pretty dresses she looked about as dangerous as a cupcake.  Appearances certainly were deceiving, after all, since she could probably do significant damage to the woman currently carrying on outside. While the thought was definitely tempting, she knew she wasn’t fast enough to get past four cops before they could take her down.  That was her cat’s risk assessment, not hers. She was still frozen in shock.

           Looking like they’d stepped into The Twilight Zone , they lowered their weapons.  She felt the same way, her brain trying to wrap itself around the presence of Enforcement in her bakery for anything other than coffee and donuts.

           One stepped forward to ask her some questions and she answered truthfully.  The absurdity of the situation and their authoritative tone had her operating mostly on autopilot while she focused on keeping her ocelot under control.  The cat bared its teeth at the intruders, wanting to drive them off its territory.

        It quickly became obvious that the snotty woman had reported that Lorel had threatened and stalked her down the street.  Naturally, she was more than happy to disabuse them of that falsehood.

           “Would you like to see the camera footage?” she offered.

           Three of the quartet followed her, the other went to question the other party.  She only used the small office off the kitchen to meet customers with large custom designs like wedding cakes.  Usually, she placed orders from her organizer while having tea or a bite to eat at one of the tables on the sidewalk out front, although that would probably change soon with the weather.

           The portable device was perfectly capable of displaying the CCTV feed, but the screen in the back was larger.  She slipped behind the desk and tried not to feel claustrophobic with the black-clad officers filling the rest of the tiny space between her and the door.  Their scents filled the room, making it hard for her to breathe.

           Lorel closed the sketches she’d been working on to bring up the video.  There was no sound, but it was plain from their body language that the blonde was the aggressor.  She’d been too shocked at the time to note the other woman’s belligerent stance and excessive gesticulations.  As for herself, she looked like someone had smacked her across the face with a fish. She had only moved to grip the counter once the vile words had sunk in, trying to keep from leaping over the counter.  Thankfully she never actually lunged for her throat.

           The trio relaxed as they watched, alternately annoyed, exasperated, disgusted, and resigned.  Not that much of their emotions showed on their faces; it was their scents that gave them away.  A part of her brain filed that realization away to freak out over later.  

           Once the video caught up to when the cops entered, she hit pause.  They asked more questions, most of which washed over her without fully registering in her mind.  She was still reeling emotionally, and her cat was too on edge over the strange predators. A couple of lips pursed, and she thought she caught an eye roll when she got to the part that had been the last straw and she kicked the blonde out.  Their obvious distaste at the false report had her cat easing down a bit, giving her room to breathe.

           “Thank you, miss.”  

           Now that she was no longer fighting the all-encompassing urge to attack, she noted the name on his uniform.  Sugiyama. They’d introduced themselves once they realized she wasn’t even armed with so much as a spatula, but she’d been too off-balance to absorb the information at the time.

           “Maddox.  Lorel Maddox.”  They responded automatically to the ritual of etiquette when she offered a handshake.  She smiled, careful to not flash any more teeth than absolutely necessary. While they appeared genial now, she still didn’t want to give them an excuse to think that she was threatening them in the enclosed space.  Her cat didn’t like being crowded in there at all and she was afraid of how it’d react if subjected to any more stress. “Would ya’ll like a copy of the video?”

           “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Sugiyama, apparently the senior officer since he’d been doing most of the speaking, shook his head.  “The sheriff will want to speak with you, though.”

           Moving out of sheer habit, she escorted them to the front where she plied them with samples and coffee.  Her hands shook as she went through the motions. She knew that not all such interactions between Changelings and Enforcement went so peacefully.  Was that what she’d intended? She thought she was going to be sick.

           Her cat wanted to hunt her down and rip her throat out.

           Invisible bugs crawled across Remi’s skin.  He flexed his foot a little harder on the pedal and the vehicle responded readily with a burst of speed that pressed him back against the seat.  He could have set it to autopilot once he’d reached the highway, but the safety protocols would’ve kept him at the speed limit and he didn’t have time for that.  The clock on the dash told him that he’d received Chloe’s call merely eleven minutes ago, yet it felt like hours.  

           They’d thus far managed to squeak by without any run-ins with Enforcement, and now he had to intervene on behalf of someone who wasn’t even a packmember yet.  Local Enforcement was almost purely human, with the odd Psy here and there. Most of the Psy brass from the Council days had been cleaned out. Rainfire hadn’t had enough dominants, even if they’d been interested, to spare to the force since they were no longer barred from the ranks.

           After the abuses of the Psy under Silence, the human-dominated city Enforcement distrusted anyone who wasn’t entirely human.  The fall-out of this encounter could impact racial relations in the area for years to come and it all hinged on a stubborn, unpredictable ocelot.

           He pulled to a stop in front of the hardware store in record time.  Cop cars clogged up the parking spaces in front of the bakery and yarn shop across the street.

           “Jack’s just started questioning her,” Chloe called with a grimace from the alcove of her doorway.  The way she wrapped her rainbow-coloured shawl tightly around herself made it sound more nefarious than a simple interview.

           He grunted and nodded in thanks.  He’d met the human woman a few times at her husband’s hardware store, so she knew he wasn’t considered chatty even on his more gregarious days and wasn’t likely to take offense at his response.  But he had to get verbal. Fast.

           Keeping to an easy stride (running headlong was only something hot-headed dominant juveniles did, he reminded himself), he focused on the voices drifting out the open door.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was so grateful for his acute hearing.

           “I just want to know what the problem is.”  Sheriff Shank somehow managed to sound both friendly and patronizing.  The ears of Remi’s leopard went flat against its head and it curled its upper lip in a sneer.

           “She used a slur so I asked her to leave.”  Lorel was clearly becoming exasperated. No cat tolerated condescension for long.  Unfortunately, there were cops forming a loose cordon in front to block his way and he was not in the mood to play at being non-threatening.

           “And what slur was that?”  

           “Animal.”

           Remi had to stop and make nice with the cops when all he wanted to do was burst in there and crack la crâne de cette bibette.  

           “Don’t you people use that word?  Talk about yourselves as cats and dogs?”  The derision in his voice had claws shoving at Remi’s fingertips.  It took every ounce of willpower to keep them in as he made small talk with the guards, working his way around to getting their version of the story.

           “Wolves, there are no dog Changelings.”  The drinks and treats in their hands had his leopard snorting; she’d all but tried to throw him out on his ear when he’d dropped by and then turned on the Southern belle grace full force when Enforcement descended.  He wondered if she knew that he was loathe to see her hurt or if she didn't recognize the lethal threat he posed.

           “So, what’s the difference between ‘animal’ and a specific animal?”

           “Context.  She accused me of taking jobs from humans.”  It was nice to hear that icy tone directed at someone else instead of at him.

           “You specifically?”

           “Well, no, she-”

           “So you kicked her out for expressing an opinion?  Did you know her husband lost his job to one of you?  Ever since ya’ll moved in work’s been hard to come by.”  That was a load of shit.  Some people had their panties in a twist because the timber industry was banned from RainFire lands, while conveniently ignoring the benefits to local businesses

           “That’s no reason to call Enforcement, I certainly didn’t threaten her!”

           The officers- Sugiyama, Norton, and Carter- made it plain that nothing had happened and that the sheriff was “just finishing up” with Lorelei.

           “Predatory Changelings like you can be pretty scary.”  Shank drew “pretty” out into nearly four syllables. “You should just be glad she wasn’t carrying.  This is a stand-your-ground state.”  It was all he could do to keep his eyes from going cat at the subtle threat.

           “You’re saying a woman can come into my shop, scream and insult me, then shoot me if I look at her funny and it’s legal?”

           “Sure, if she’s scared for her life.”  

           “But I didn’t do anything, I only asked her to leave!”  From the corner of his eye, he saw her throw her hands in the air.

           “See, that’s the problem with you folks, you’re just too aggressive.”

           “Oh, you think this is aggressive?”

           And that was his cue to enter stage right.

[goldlockingterritories]

Obvious

A transhuman god is upset at the departure of her children, and is at odds with her partner.

Natalia peered over the scene before her: A parade, climbing along a street wedged between shiny black glass skyscrapers and polished concrete apartment buildings. Her view stood above it all, showing her all of the city; an urban sprawl, clustering in the middle, a suburb of lawn sprinklers and freshly cut grass to the west, oakwood docks and caramel colored beaches to the east. Further down west past the suburbs are all rural deserts and forests, full of buggy driving rednecks, tobacco growing hermits and cocaine hauling gangsters in speedos. All neatly nested within the small, lonely island.

She wasn’t going to tell the city government any of what she saw far west; they were the ones who made the decision to leave her. 

She returned to the real world: grey rocky landscape, and sleek black spires in the distance, spewing out pillars of smoke into the sky, joining the dark, electrified clouds.

The clouds weren’t normal; she could almost see the ocean of micro and nano machines swirling around on their pinwheel joints, connecting their long flagella wires, pushing atmosphere and delivering energy and messages all around the planet. A circulatory, respiratory, and nervous system all rolled into one big blanket for the whole world...

A large black seed shaped object hovered in the sky, the sharper end pointed upwards. It was obvious to Natalia what would happen; the clouds would synthesize the fuel, load it onto the rocket, and launch Natalia’s children past the sky and into space, where it would blossom, unfurling it’s sails and carry off riding the light of the stars. 

Everything was obvious to Natalia now. 

If she wanted to understand circuitry and rocket science, she did. If she wanted to understand chemistry and biology, she did. If she wanted to know how to create life, control the weather, travel the cosmos, she did.

And it was obvious why she could; she wasn’t human anymore. Her name hadn’t always been Natalia, but she had burned through so many at this point. She supposed that she picked that quality up from her partner.

“Leaving?” Speak of the devil, and you shall receive them.

They had many names and faces throughout their life; Carried in by wings that should’ve been invisible to Natalia, had it not been obvious, was Jules. An azure blue dress shirt hugged them underneath a black, floral patterned waistcoat and matching black jeans with gilded zipper pockets.

“Not me,” She began, knowing Jules already knew the answer, “My yggdrasil children.”

Yug-Drasil, the pronunciation rolled off her tongue as if she was fluent in the language (she was, obviously), and she couldn’t tell whether or not she read that somewhere, or if it was a signal plopped in her head by their new brain.

The world trees dotted the continent; branches composed of centimeter by centimeter metallic cubes, each holding the equivalent of entire human brains, billions of molecular neurons packed into something that could fit in the palm of a hand. Each mind was attached to a shared computer simulation, a virtual environment, either randomly generated or designed by Natalia, or Jules. Whole countries could be fitted in the space of a medium sized farmhouse, 30 souls a foot.

Natalia had reared an entire society in one, fully aware of the outside world. And they wanted to leave.

“I fixed it, by the way,” Natalia’s pause barely covered a microsecond when Jules spoke.

She didn’t bother asking for an answer she already knew. “My sabotage,” She said.

A special colony of micromachines, activated by sunlight, designed to devour Mylar, the material used on a solar sail. Jules must have picked them out, like a baboon picking out ticks from a mate’s fur coat and eating them, when the rocket went through the clouds.

“You bastard,” A smile infected her face, reaching her eyes. She used to have a volatile competitive streak; now she loved it when someone outsmarted her.

Jules regarded her with a drab expression, a soft smile touching their lips, but never their eyes. 

She wouldn’t have hurted them, only keep them stuck in orbit. If she could have her way now, she would’ve made it so that none of her children could leave. But that was the deal their older faces made long ago, when the trees were first thought of; let life go on. It’s only natural for Jules to uphold it. 

She hated them and she loved them, so she walked up and planted a kiss on their lips, and pulled them in. 

Her mind drifted off, summoning an Eidolon. Several kilometers north of here, at the base of a spire, micromachines sprung up from the ground like a trail of ants climbing along their own backs, climbing along lattice structures made of themselves, all together forming a single grey shape composed of arms, legs, a torso, and a head. The micromachines texturize themselves, forming smooth skin and dangling fabrics, pigment and color spreading across it, revealing Natalia in her short blonde hair, black leather garments and boots. 

The strange flesh and silicone blood Natalia, undressing herself with Jules on top of her, sent abstract commands to her Eidolon as it sent back short term memories. Eidolon Natalia regarded the spire; A power plant, delivering electricity to the machine clouds above, as if solar power wasn’t enough (she knew it wasn’t). This one would be using fusion to vaporize water into steam, spinning a sheet of micro turbines. Electricity would climb to the tip of the spire, where micromachines would distribute it amongst themselves in an invisible network.

Natalia commanded her Eidolon to move elsewhere, so she conjured a set of wings. They attached themselves to the Eidolon’s body, embedding straps to it’s fake skeletal structure, and pulled it off the ground.

The wings didn’t flap; it swirled air below and behind with a cloth made of a million tiny fans. A dust storm formed in the north, one of the only natural threats present on the planet. She knew an invisible wall would be forming around the storm, isolating and neutralizing it. 

Desolate buildings whizzed by below her feet; Skyscrapers, castles, mansions, houses, cabins, and towers. When Jules and Natalia first came here, that was all they had ever done; build and build and build. They stretched their creative abilities, at least when they still had human minds. 

After that, they just lived here. Sometimes together, sometimes isolated. Then the network was created, sinking its roots into the ground below, and Jules and Natalia connected themselves to it. Her name was Jacqueline when that happened, and Jules was Nathaniel.

The lone structures below transitioned into clusters of villages and townships, groupings of decrepit and abandoned housing. Things became obvious for Jack and Than, or rather they started to tap into the bank of knowledge and expertise that was the planet-wide superintelligence. Whenever they sensed or thought something, hundreds of artificial neurons parsed through it, predicted a query, and sent the answer as an electrical pulse that the brain interpreted as knowledge it already had. 

Every science and every byte of knowledge became like common sense to them. Obvious. 

And so, it became obvious what was missing from their- or rather Jack and Than’s - lives: People. So, they took what they knew, and built some people, called Simms. Like that ancient video game.

A patch worked house stood below Natalia. One of Than’s. Castles and junkyard additions erupted from its roof, colorful graffiti all over it. The Simms had breathed life into their world, returning complex relationships, conflict, and an extra pair of creativity. 

Jules pulled their lips from the real Natalia, a smile still present as they looked down at her. “Where are you going?”

Another Eidolon erupted from the ground below, growing to encompass a height of 20 feet, lumbering over the house. It’s body texturized into skin, no clothing, revealing the black haired face of Jules staring up at her. Jules always loved provoking imagery.

“My mind wandered, decided to take a stroll down memory lane,” Natalia and her Eidolon spoke in sync.

“You would have me think that,” A smile stretched across Eidolon Jules face, “wouldn’t you?”

Their belly inflated, rumbling, and something climbed up their throat. They opened their mouth, muffled screams following, and eventually an arm, followed by the blonde haired head of a middle aged man.

“Oh god!” The figure exclaimed in anguish and horror, “Please help me!”

Natalia knew the man; John Yak, third generation of the Yak family, ex-military (or so he thought), strict father of three. He used to live in the patchwork house, and his son was the one who built the castle tower for his kids.

“Please god!” Than designed John to be aggressive, loyal, prideful, and especially arrogant, being the one who stuffed the house with taxidermy and bear carpets from his hunts. He died when he was eaten by a polar bear.

The Eidolon pursed his lips around the Simm, making a slurping sound. John shrieked as he was drawn back down into the Eidolon’s belly.

“That supposed to scare me?” Natalia spoke up to Jules.

“No,” Jules said, and Natalia braced for another cryptic answer, “It’s supposed to scare me.”

“Oh stuff it, would you.” Natalia stretched her head to theirs, embracing Jules again. Eidolon Natalia continued her journey, and the giant naked Jules watched her leave with a smile, until disintegrating into grey fractal dust.

[phroyd]

Dumb-Fuck #MAGA Teens, children of Dumb-Fuck #MAGA Parents, and QTards Everywhere, resurrect #PizzaGate on Tik-Tok! - Phroyd

WASHINGTON — Four minutes into a video that was posted on Instagram last month, Justin Bieber leaned into the camera and adjusted the front of his black knit beanie. For some of his 130 million followers, it was a signal.

In the video, someone had posted a comment asking Mr. Bieber to touch his hat if he had been a victim of a child-trafficking ring known as PizzaGate. Thousands of comments were flooding in, and there was no evidence that Mr. Bieber had seen that message. But the pop star’s innocuous gesture set off a flurry of online activity, which highlighted the resurgence of one of social media’s early conspiracy theories.

Viewers quickly uploaded hundreds of videos online analyzing Mr. Bieber’s action. The videos were translated into Spanish, Portuguese and other languages, amassing millions of views. Fans then left thousands of comments on Mr. Bieber’s social media posts asking him if he was safe. Within days, searches for “Justin and PizzaGate” soared on Google, and the hashtag #savebieber started trending.

Four years ago, ahead of the 2016 presidential election, the baseless notion that Hillary Clinton and Democratic elites were running a child sex-trafficking ring out of a Washington pizzeria spread across the internet, illustrating how a crackpot idea with no truth to it could blossom on social media — and how dangerous it could be. In December 2016, a vigilante gunman showed up at the restaurant with an assault rifle and opened fire into a closet.

In the years afterward, Facebook, Twitter and YouTube managed to largely suppress PizzaGate. But now, just months before the next presidential election, the conspiracy theory is making a comeback on these platforms — and on new ones such as TikTok — underlining the limits of their efforts to stamp out dangerous speech online and how little has changed despite rising public frustration.

This time, PizzaGate is being fueled by a younger generation that is active on TikTok, which was in its infancy four years ago, as well as on other social media platforms. The conspiracy group QAnon is also promoting PizzaGate in private Facebook groups and creating easy-to-share memes on it.

Driven by these new elements, the theory has morphed. PizzaGate no longer focuses on Mrs. Clinton and has taken on less of a political bent. Its new targets and victims are a broader assortment of powerful businesspeople, politicians and celebrities, including Mr. Bieber, Bill Gates, Ellen DeGeneres, Oprah Winfrey and Chrissy Teigen, who are lumped together as part of the global elite. For groups like QAnon, PizzaGate has become a convenient way to foment discontent.

The theory has also gone global. While it previously found traction mainly in the United States, videos and posts about it have racked up millions of views in Italy, Brazil and Turkey.

“PizzaGate never went away because it encompasses very potent forces,” including children’s safety and the power of elites, said Alice Marwick, a disinformation expert at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. “But now there is so much scaffolding from people who have researched it, it wasn’t hard for others to pick up from there.”

PizzaGate is reaching a level that nearly exceeds its 2016 fever pitch, according to an analysis by The New York Times. TikTok posts with the #PizzaGate hashtag have been viewed more than 82 million times in recent months. Google searches for PizzaGate have skyrocketed.

In the first week of June, comments, likes and shares of PizzaGate also spiked to more than 800,000 on Facebook and nearly 600,000 on Instagram, according to data from CrowdTangle, a Facebook-owned tool for analyzing social interactions. That compares with 512,000 interactions on Facebook and 93,000 on Instagram during the first week of December 2016. From the start of 2017 through January this year, the average number of weekly PizzaGate mentions, likes and shares on Facebook and Instagram was under 20,000, according to The Times’s analysis.

The conspiracy has regained momentum even as its original targets — Mrs. Clinton, her top aides and a Washington pizzeria, Comet Ping Pong — are still dealing with the fallout.

Hateful comments have recently surged on the Facebook page and Yelp and Google review pages for Comet Ping Pong, where the child trafficking supposedly happened. The pizzeria’s owner, James Alefantis, said he had received fresh death threats that caused the Federal Bureau of Investigation to open a new investigation two months ago. The F.B.I. said Friday that it could not confirm the existence of an investigation.

“There are no real options for someone like me. I don’t have the names or numbers for people to call at Google or TikTok,” Mr. Alefantis said. “But I don’t want to be that person who lives their life in fear.”

PizzaGate was born in 2016 in online forums like 4chan and Reddit, where right-wing users and supporters of Donald J. Trump pored over hacked emails from John D. Podesta, Mrs. Clinton’s senior campaign adviser, looking for evidence of wrongdoing. Some emails referring to Mr. Podesta’s dinner plans mentioned pizza. A 4chan participant then connected the phrase “cheese pizza” to pedophiles, who on chat boards use the initials “c.p.” to denote child pornography.

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Mr. Alefantis, who is friends with Mr. Podesta’s brother, Tony, was mentioned in several of the emails. That led internet users to connect his pizza parlor to their conspiracy.

The theory soon appeared in bogus publications like The Vigilant Citizen and The New Nationalist on Facebook and Instagram. On Twitter and YouTube, other users amplified the content.

Fact checkers debunked the idea. But weeks after the November 2016 election, Edgar M. Welch, 32, a North Carolina resident, drove six hours to Comet Ping Pong to free what he believed were enslaved children. He shot several rounds from a military-style assault rifle into a locked closet door of the pizzeria and eventually surrendered to the police. In 2017, he was sentenced to four years in prison.

Soon after, YouTube, Twitter and Facebook suspended the accounts of users who had pushed PizzaGate and took down hundreds of related posts.

To keep PizzaGate tamped down, the social media companies took other steps. Facebook made it impossible to search for hashtags such as #pizzagateisreal. On YouTube, searching for #pizzagate brought up a label that explained the term was part of a false conspiracy. Twitter also stopped #pizzagate from surfacing in its trending topics in the United States.

A documentary promoting PizzaGate, “Out of Shadows,” made by a former Hollywood stuntman, was released on YouTube that month and passed around the QAnon community. In May, the idea that Mr. Bieber was connected to the conspiracy surfaced. Teenagers on TikTok began promoting both, as reported earlier by The Daily Beast.

A week ago, Rachel McNear, 20, watched “Out of Shadows,” which has garnered 15 million views on YouTube. She then turned to Twitter, where she came across Mr. Bieber’s supposed association with PizzaGate. After reading more on Instagram, YouTube and Facebook, she created a one-minute description of her research on the topic and posted it to TikTok on Monday.

“The mainstream media uses words like conspiracy theory and how it is debunked but I’m seeing the research,” Ms. McNear, of Timonium, Md., said in an interview.

Her video was taken down on Wednesday when TikTok removed the #PizzaGate hashtag and all content searchable with the term. A TikTok spokeswoman said such content violated its guidelines.

That same day, Facebook also expunged PizzaGate-related comments under Comet Ping Pong’s page after a call from The Times.

YouTube said it had long demoted PizzaGate-related videos and removes them from its recommendation engine, including “Out of Shadows.” Twitter said it constantly eliminates PizzaGate posts and had updated its child sexual-exploitation policy to prevent harm from the conspiracy. Facebook said it had created new policies, teams and tools to prevent falsehoods like PizzaGate from spreading.

Teenagers and young adults, many of whom are just forming political beliefs, are particularly susceptible to PizzaGate, said Travis View, a researcher and host of the “QAnon Anonymous” podcast, which examines conspiracy theories. They are drawn to celebrity photos on tabloid sites and Hollywood blogs to uncover PizzaGate’s supposed secret symbols and clues, he said. Even a triangle — which can signify a slice of pizza — can be taken as proof that a celebrity is part of a secret elite cabal.

“It all becomes a game, and people are drawn in because it feels participatory,” Mr. View said.

For Tony Podesta, John Podesta’s brother, PizzaGate’s revival has opened up old wounds. He had dealt with trolling from conspiracy believers in 2016. Recently, he got a voice mail message from an anonymous caller saying, “Your pizza is ready.”

“It just doesn’t go away,” Mr. Podesta said. “They are always three steps ahead of the sheriff.”

[lavander-galaxy]

Sanders Sides Analysis: Logos, Pathos, and Ethos

A few days ago in my English class, we reviewed ethos, pathos, and logos. It sparked my interest because I knew that Logan’s name was based off of logos and Patton’s off of pathos. I have seen plenty of theories about these tools of persuasion, so I decided to analyze the sides through each of these concepts. 

Enjoy!

LOGOS

Logos is an appeal to logic and reason, it is also a Greek word that means ‘a word’ or ‘reasoning’.This tool of persuasion is used to “prove” an argument through logical and sound reasoning. Now of course this sounds pretty accurate for our nerd, but I couldn’t help but realize who else this connected to. Deceit. Throughput the entirety of SvS Dee used LOGIC in order to show Thomas his point and make the other sides listen to him. Heck he even showed up as Logan in the beginning. But why would Deceit shut Logan out of the conversation if they are so similar? Well, Logan wasn’t completely shut out since Dee did use Logan to answer some questions in the episode, and he had some outbursts at some point. However, It does make some sense why Deceit wouldn’t want Logan to have an input based on later parts of the episode. For example: At the very end Logan interrupts Dee as he is trying to prove his point to the others. He says “leave the teaching to me”. Logan is the true source of logic in the group, that is what he represents. Maybe Logan feels competition between him and Dee because they both use logos to prove their arguments and explain their reasoning.

PATHOS

Pathos is an appeal to the emotions, so it makes sense that Patton is the main man representing this. Pathos is also a Greek word that means ‘experience’ or ‘suffering’. Wait.. suffering?? It is important to note that even though Patton is a bubbly character he still encompasses sad emotions. Something I found interesting about Pathos is that a way to use it is by appealing to an audiences hopes and dreams, playing on their fears and worries, or appealing to their particular beliefs or ideals. But, that’s not all only Patton. ‘Hopes and dreams’ I don’t know about you, but that sounds like Roman to me. ‘Playing on their fears and worries’ and that right their sounds like Virgil. How could all of these characters be connected? Well, A part of the series that I have noticed is how the three of them always seem to understand each other better. On the other hand, Logan is left misunderstood, not listened too, and disregarded because the other three don’t understand his way of reasoning. We really saw the clash in WDWGOOBITM. Logan and Roman kept going back and forth about who was right and wrong, but they didn’t even understand what either of them was trying to argue the while time. Not until the end when Thomas brought up their points again, and pointed out that they actually make a good team at least. In fact a way to show pathos while persuading someone is by using descriptive language and imagery which evokes emotion. Sounds pretty familiar right? That is exactly how Roman chose to explain his point of view during that whole episode. Another way to use pathos in an argument is by identifying values or emotions which relate particularly to your audience, and play to them. This was Patton’s plan during SvS. Remember how he got info out of Virgil while he was on the stand? He played to the fact that he knew how much losing a friend would hurt Virgil, so that’s how he approached his case with him. He attempted to do the same with Logan, but since they are so opposite when it comes to the tools of persuasion, it was a flop. He didn’t know what to ask, or how to get more information that he needs out of Logan. Partially was probably because he knew that Thomas didn’t actually want to go to the callback, but I can’t help but think that it is also because Patton doesn’t understand how Logan works. This also makes sense on why Logan refuses to believe he has emotions. Not only is he the furthest away from using pathos ever, but he doesn’t understand  the reason behind it. Why does he need emotions, when he can get his point across clearly with facts? Another part of pathos that I noticed is how it is connected to guilt. Pay attention to both of these examples of pathos that I found:1- If you don’t buy this life insurance you are letting your family down. 2- If you don’t go on this holiday you will regret it. You don’t want to live with regrets, do you? Wow. very guilt-trippy I know. This brings light to a quote by Roman after Patton scolds him for siding with Dee in SvS, “Yeesh, I would’ve stayed in my room if I knew dad was gonna take us on a guilt trip.” (This also just strengthens my argument that the next side is gonna be guilt but that is besides the point).It now makes sense why Patton has been using guilt as a way to persuade lately. That is what he knows, that is how he knows he is able to get the others to agree with him. Besides, if your audience is more emotionally invested and engaged with your case or argument, they are more likely to be persuaded. Right?

ETHOS

Finally ethos is up. This is the tool of persuasion that I have seen most people put Dee with. However, I think I am going to have to disagree. Ethos is an appeal to authority and credibility and it is a Greek word meaning ‘character’. One thing we know of Dee so far is that right now he is not trusted to be credible. Also every side literally takes whatever he says as a lie or not the complete truth. The main goal of using the ethos form of persuasion is to convince your audience to do what you believe is right or just to convince them of your point is by using your character or credibility. That is not deceit’s angle throughout svs at. all. The only time in that episode that used ethos is in the beginning of the episode when Patton tried to convince Thomas that he needs to skip the callback because of his morality. Patton says “what is this wacky talk? You don’t mean any of this. I’m your morality. I wouldn’t be here if you did.” And to that Deceit responds with the same exact reasoning. “You know who else is here? me. so maybe Thomas isn’t so innocent.” Ironically enough, ethos is used more against deceit than in deceit’s favor. Take Virgil for example, he has pointed out how deceit is a liar and how no one should ever trust his too many times to count. Whenever Dee is starting to make a valid point it is always shot down by his own character and credibility at the hands of the lights. Rather that his own credibility, Dee’s preferred tactic is fact and truth. (which is ironic since he is deceit). Sounds like logos right? That’s cause it is. He using the same tactics as Logan does, which explains why they butt heads so much. Deceit is there to show Thomas the truth. He hates it when Thomas lies to himself and covers up what he truly believes is true. Which is exactly the point of svs. As Dee says in the video, “What am I doing here, Thomas? Am I the snake come to trick you into sinning or have you had your mind made up since the moment you received the news about the callback?” Deceit’s arguments all focus on fact, truth, and the ABSENCE of lies. In fact whenever a side lies during this episode Deceit immediately calls them out. (I would list them but that’s for a different post) The curious case of Dee’s questions throughout that video also leave many questions. My favorite of his questions is that whenever Deceit was questioning the other sides he began with asking them what their functions were as a part of Thomas. It’s almost like he was setting Patton up to ask him the same question. Maybe then his side of the story would have made a little more sense. But alas! I guess we will just have to wait a little longer to fully understand Dee as a character. However, we did get an insight on his motives of the video. And he was doing it all to protect Thomas. Funny right? It’s almost like that was Virgil’s motive as well when he was an outcast. But, that is a completely different topic so I will leave you guys, gals, and non-binary pals with this.

Deceit obviously isn’t as cut and dry as the rest of the sides. I don’t think we can perfectly put him in a box in order to try and predict his name or his motives just yet. It is the same as the case with Virgil. The others are different. And I can’t wait to see how they flourish within the series. 

 So basically what I am trying to say is, based on what we have seen Deceit’s arguments are based more on fact that character and credibility. This leads me to believe his character, argumentative style, and name, are not based on ethos. His character seems like it is leaning more towards logos actually. 

Thanks for reading all of this! I hope that the people who decided to read this ridiculously long post (and who patiently waited for me to get off my butt and finish it) enjoyed what i had to say. If i missed anything, or you want to bring up your own p.o.v to what I offered feel free to! <333

[bouncelegal]

Best Lead Generation Strategies for Bankruptcy Attorneys

Marketing is all about catching the right people in the right place at the right time. So how can you guarantee that your law practice hits the sweet spot every time? Well, in 2020, everything is digital, meaning the most effective marketing strategies often exist on platforms like LinkedIn, Twitter, Google, email or, frankly, anything viewable on a smartphone.

So what can digital marketing do for your law firm?

From boosting awareness to increasing the efficiency of your marketing spend, there are several statistically-backed reasons why effective digital marketing can improve your bottom line and grow your law practice, big or small. Stay tuned – we’re outlining our top five.

Expand reach

An effective website for your bankruptcy practice should be on the top of your list. What better way to attract new clients, showcase your services, and promote quality content. To help boost your website presence, you should take advantage of social media marketing. If you’re not advertising on digital platforms, you’re missing out on billions of social media users. Not to mention, the average web surfer who spends countless hours online. While those numbers are slightly nauseating, they’re also true and they make up a huge portion of your audience. Bottom line? Everyone’s online and if you want to reach everyone, the starting point is obvious.

Humanize your bankruptcy practice

Social platforms give your brand a voice. What kind of language do you use while tweeting? Are your Facebook posts engaging, passionate, and informative? Are you speaking direct to your prospect? Can individuals quickly and easily connect with someone in your firm? Humans don’t trust companies, they trust other humans. If you use social to bridge the gap, you’ll earn the trust of social users searching for authenticity above all else.

Build Trust

It is common knowledge that individuals trust information about a particular brand, product, or service that comes from people they know. And they don’t just mean people they know personally. Friends and family and general word of mouth will always reign supreme when it comes to increasing awareness. But digital marketing also encompasses testimonials from clients that your prospects can read and get a better understanding for whom they may be doing business with. Emphasize online posts and build a strong social following to legitimize your business in the eyes of every consumer.

Additionally, displaying your member affiliation badges on your website is an easy way to boost your trust and credibility. Make sure to include these badges on several pages of your site, as many visitors not only land on your home page, but on others as well.

Lead Generation

For marketers, the beauty of digital marketing or attorneys is the ability to target specific audiences. Very specific audiences. Maybe it’s people who love reading about improving their financial future or maybe it’s individuals who like to watch YouTube videos. With the help of our legal marketing experts, you can understand who from each practice area is most likely to visit your website and book a consultation. Once you develop a target client, digital tools allow you to direct messaging straight to them. Bounce Legal offers numerous lead generation solutions for bankruptcy attorneys. Contact us today for a free demo.

Stay Cost-Effective

If you skimmed the above, this should come as no surprise. Digital marketing provides a better return on investment than traditional media channels. In fact, according to Google, companies using digital marketing have 2.8 times better revenue growth expectancy. It makes sense, especially when you consider how much cheaper digital marketing is than print. Drive your revenue through targeted campaigns, personalized offers, and cost-effective digital buys.

There are many techniques in our digital landscape where bankruptcy attorneys can gain an advantage. For example, showing up in the local map results for the query “bankruptcy attorney near me” is an easy way to increase traffic to your website and ultimately conversions.

Related Tips for Bankruptcy Attorneys

Our advice is to first maximize the advertising tools that are “Free.” For example all bankruptcy law practices must maximize their Google My Business listing. You can easily score valuable ranking points from “google bot” by simply ensuring your information optimized. We offer Free Google My Business training, just book a consultation and we will be happy to help out.

When do I ask for help? Sometimes it’s best to leave legal marketing to the experts. Agencies specializing in social marketing are well-versed in voice, online branding, and creative strategy that cuts through the virtual clutter. You may know your business better than a room of corporate strangers, but marketing experts understand how to speak directly to your target audience better than anyone.

Lean on professionals with years of digital experience to get serious about strengthening your digital presence and speaking to previously unreachable consumers.

What platforms should I use? Not all digital platforms are created equal! A common mistake is deciding to use a platform for the sake of using it. Here at Bounce Legal we use the most effective digital avenues to attract and retain new bankruptcy clients including Google, social media marketing, SEO, and more.

Instead of having a presence on every social platform, figure out where your target audience spends the most time and develop a strategy based on those two to three platforms. Digital agencies are fantastic resources if you’re struggling to understand which areas of the digital landscape to focus on. You have nothing to lose going digital and everything in the world to gain. Hopefully, this helped you understand why. Still curious about digital marketing for your bankruptcy law firm? Contact us!

A bit about us – Bounce Legal offers lead generation services for bankruptcy attorneys throughout the United States. In addition to providing leads, we are experienced in search-engine marketing, Google Ads advertising (Pay Per Click), SEO solutions, social media marketing, and more! Your website most certainly is the beginning, as online success through-out our connected world is dependent on search dominance and max exposure to many marketing channels. Our bankruptcy marketing company is more than glad to help you increase your online presence. Book a free consultation today and let’s kick-start your leads!

[the-canary]

Don’t Think Twice - S.R (4/10)

Summary: Neither of you thought there were things the other was so afraid of. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers).  

Prompt: Vertigo - sensation of whirling and loss of balance, associated particularly with looking down from a great height; giddiness

A/N: This is for @until-theend-oftheline ‘s beautiful words challenge.  

Feedback is always welcomed.

You sense the excitement as Victor goes over how the vibranium interacts with the material that could be called your blood. Unlike regular metal, which would melt, the vibranium hisses but nothing else happens. At this point, he had been working with high resistant plastic and nylon to make materials and clothing that could touch your body without burning off, but this -- this was something completely different and as he contacted the Wakandan princess and researchers, it became more apparent that they were interested on what could become of your blood, but also how vibranium could help you as well.

It takes another two months of back and forth for anything to come out of all this Victor and Shuri (as she makes you call her when you see her through the video feed) seem to be doing. It’s one bright, Sunday morning when he drags you into the lab and behind some panels.

“What are we doing?” you ask, more of a curious tone in your voice than he had heard in a long time. Green eyes sparkle as he hands a pair of folded clothing with a small bracelet on top. You look at him in surprise when you don’t hear the familiar hissing sound.

“I want to you put all this on,” he declares and you look at him once more in suspicion, “There is something different about this clothing that I am sure you will find interesting.”

The smile doesn’t leaves his face the whole time and it reminds you of Steve for a brief moment --that one night not too long-- as you simply nod and head towards the back.

You even more surprised to find out that it isn’t the standard black suit that you are used to wearing. It’s more of an outfit that you would see someone “normal” wear on the streets. The colors brighter than the black suit, but still muted in black, white, and brown.

You pause for a moment before heading out, as you feel your throat enclose on itself for a moment. Nevertheless, you keep moving forward and move to stand in front of Victor, as he smiles at you standing there dressed like a normal woman your age.

“You look nice,” Victor smiles, as you let out a choked noise from your throat.

You spend the rest of the morning choosing other colors and clothing types that you would like to wear, as Victor explains that it all works with the little bracelet and glove set you are wearing that it sending waves of magnetized vibranium right underneath your skin. Yes, the dizziness and fever are still there, but more subtle than before. And for once you feel like something less than a monster.

If you cry in-between all that, well Victor says nothing on the subject.

Steve notices the change in the immediate training session you have with him afterwards. The black suit is a bit different from the last time, as he sees waves of blue and purple static run over your body as you come at him during the first bit. You don’t have to cut the black suit like before -- it splits itself as you cut.

The metal seems to have a mind of its own as it heads to him once more, but the burning is less severe than usual. It causes him to pause for a moment, it’s then you decide to do something new. You yell out in language he doesn’t understand as the metal comes back after its initial attack. It swarms in your palm for a moment before it extends, turning into a sword as you grip before running towards him.

You yell, as the sword makes contact with the shield. It hisses when making contact with the vibranium. Steve pushes back and as you skid back the sword disintegrates. Blue eyes meet your own in surprise, as he shakes his head at your excited grin. You get up and yell another word as the metal comes out of the cut and turns into little daggers.

You grab them, feeling their weight in the palm of your hand before trying to look at Steve as he lifts up the shield once more.

“Ready?” you question, your voice a mix of excitement and uneasiness though more emotion than he had heard coming from you in all this short time that he had known you.

“Ready,” Steve declares, as he starts moving back a bit more already knowing what you might be thinking of doing with your new weapons.

You run and throw them at him, and while they never land anywhere near Steve --you still need a lot of practice-- but it’s the most fun you had had in a training session and the small smile on your face shows it.      

In the two months since the first time he had seen you in one of the recreation areas, Steve gets used to seeing you wandering around every once and awhile. Sometimes, you are watching a movie, others you are reading a book, or binging through a podcast that had caught your interest. For some reason, like Steve, you were playing catch with the rest of the world and from time to time he brought his own piece to share with you.

Tonight is no different, as he catches you watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s (you were going through all of Audrey Hepburn’s movies now) on the Stark Pad, though this time you are laying down on the floor near the large windows of the Compound. Steve couldn’t help but shake his head a little since he always found you somewhere new. You pause the movie and get up to look at him.

It’s then when Steve notices that you aren’t wearing those all encompassing winter pajamas, instead its a short sleeves with long sweats and a light sweater. The gloves that are allowing this are still there and while it is still hiding away most of your skin, to see pieces of clothing moving here and there is still a surprising sight.

“Good morning, Steve,” you state with a nod, as he gives you smile as you grab the device before moving to where he is, “I had a question for you actual.”

Your upfrontness surprises him for a moment, as he leans onto the countertop you stand there not willing to touch anything since the gloves didn’t stop that second part of your powers -- they just stopped the material you were wearing from burning off.

“What’s New York like?” you asks causing Steve freeze for a second.

There’s uneasiness in your face over the question, like it might have been useless or even stupid to ask. It’s then that Steve has to remind himself that you probably had ever only known two places in your life -- the lab where they had found you and the Compound, maybe a few S.H.I.E.L.D bases here and there. You were stuck even more so than him. However, at the thought of answering your question, that’s when another problem arises, though more so for him.

Did you mean this New York or the one he had grown up with? Because he surely didn’t know of the one that you had been watching just a few moments ago.

“Well, what do you want to know?” he asks, unsure of where to start.

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug before adding, “Anything you can think of.”

Steve motions for you to sit down and though you frown, you follow his directive anyways though you never move to touch anything else. Eventually, Steve finds himself heading towards the same direction he goes through whenever he talks about the 1940’s -- about himself, Bucky, and all the adventures they had. He mentions all he misses in Brooklyn, how Manhattan has changed, and everything in between. You don’t ask any questions. You’re quiet, but Steve can tell he had your full attention with that sparkle in your eyes.

You spend the rest of the night like that, up to the point where he finishes when he finally made it the future -- whatever happened after that wasn’t really about New York anymore. Nevertheless, you thank him softly and he can’t help but ask.

“Would you like to go one day?” Steve questions as the morning sun begins to peek from the trees and into the large windows,”To New York.”

“Maybe, one day,” you state with a rescind smile, like it’s never going to happen, “When the sun doesn’t make me so dizzy and weak.”

Steve stays quiet for that moment, as you get up -- the metal of the chair darker than before and you grab your Stark Pad before leaving. He stands there for a good while before going to make his morning coffee, feeling the coldest he had in that moment since meeting you.

[callioope]

Questions Meme!

Hello, yes, this HAS in fact been sitting in my drafts for ages and ages. Thank you to both @crazy-fruit and @ruby-red-inky-blue for tagging me and for waiting forever for me to answer (oops)! I’m sorry I took so long, but y’all ask really good questions and I had to think about some of them!

Question Set 1

1. How are you?

Oh, I’m doing alright! Thank you for asking. The earlier part of this year was rather rough, but therapy has been helping. I’ve been rather busy these past few weeks with traveling, and my schedule going forward is rather busy, too, so while I’m excited for those things, I’m also excited for the eventual moment I can just relax.

2. What would you say are your talents?

Writing. Making fancy color-coded spreadsheets. I’ve been told that my super power is getting random (annoying) songs stuck in other people’s heads. Does that count as a talent? 

3. If you had the chance to start your life again, would you take it?

NOPE. No thanks. I like where I am at right now, and I would not want to relive my awkward years. Er, at least, my more awkward, younger years. Cuz I’m totally still awkward. Just less awkward. I hope?

4. Which language would you like to speak instantly? 

HMM. ALL OF THEM. It’s really hard to choose! 

Language fascinates me, and in another life I feel like I would have devoted a lot more time to learning more of them. Unfortunately, I really hated German class in high school because of the teacher’s tendency to put people on the spot -- I think that is sort of inherent in a language class, but I get anxiety speaking in public. 

Anyways, I suppose I’ll answer Turkish to this question, since spouse and I keep saying we’re going to try to learn Turkish via Duolingo. For the record, my HS offered six languages, which was the most I’ve ever heard of an American school offering, and I was always quite happy with my choice of German. (The others were Spanish, French, Italian, Chinese, and Latin.) I do wish I had maintained my German better, and I that I had more time to learn Spanish. 

5. Where would you like to be right now?

Honestly? I’m pretty happy when I’m at home. But if I had to answer where “else” would I like to be right now, out of the whole world? Being back on safari in Botswana is a top contender, as are a variety of places in Turkey, and also Munich. 

6. What name would you give yourself?

I’ve always liked my actual name (Elizabeth). I know I go by Liz; one of my HS friends was quite stubborn and I’m a bit stuck with it now, but I don’t mind it. There are worse nicknames that come from Elizabeth. I used to go by Fiona online; I’ve always been fond of that one. 

7. What is something you’re currently learning?

OOF, what a good question. I sorta blanked on this at first, and my first thought was uhhhh learning how to cope with my OCD??? I’m doing exposure therapy right now, ish. Emphasis on the ish. Also mindfulness. Does that really even count? I started a beginner’s knitting project several months ago that I never finished, does that count? (I just need to seam it, that’s what I’m putting off. I have knit plenty of scarves; however, this is my first hat.) I’m sort of teaching myself ukulele although I haven’t really learned any new chords or songs in awhile. I would very much like to take more photography classes with a focus on wildlife photography. That involves buying a new camera and... signing up for classes. 

Question Set 2

1. What is a detail in a piece of art/a text that you like that you really admire?

This was very difficult, at first because it was like looking at a bin full of loose things and just seeing an assortment of color and being overwhelmed by it all, and then because once I did start digging around, I kept finding different ideas and it was too hard too choose.

Character-building: In the A Song of Ice and Fire series, when Arya starts working for the House of Black and White, Martin stops using the name “Arya” as she dons different identities. For example, he uses “Cat” for a bit, among other names. It shows she’s trying to be someone else, but the caveat is that there are still little mannerisms and such that show she hasn’t really left Arya behind (I think maybe she bites her lip or something? I don’t remember specific examples because it’s been over 5 years since I read these books, but I do remember really appreciating the general technique at the time). 

Music: In The Beatles’ “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” I love those repeated arpeggios, over and over, building, intensifying, as the white noise comes in and you can just feel the heaviness of desire, of want... (and then I love how it just breaks so suddenly! And I know it wouldn’t have been intended this way because that’s the end of side one, but since I listen to the whole album on spotify, then those bright chords of “Here Comes the Sun” come in and god Abbey Road is the best Beatles album)

Writing: the poetry of Florence + The Machine’s “All This and Heaven Too,” obviously, since literally the title of my blog comes from that. I’d quote that whole song honestly. There’s something that speaks to me about the incapability of language to fully encompass just... everything. I mean, love in specific here, but also just everything. Words are just these little boats we put meaning on and we hope they make it to the other side but everyone takes ‘em a little differently. 

Like, look at this: 

And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how 

And this: 

Words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before

Anyways, there’s also something just incredibly soothing about the music, too, and how she sings the song. There’s another line, from Sara Bareilles’ “Miss Simone” that goes “How does she know what a heart sounds like?” which pretty much sums up how I feel about “All This and Heaven Too” (and also many of Sara Bareilles’ song, especially that particular album, but I digress).

Anyways I did have some art examples, but I think I’ve rambled long enough.

2. Is there an idea that you really liked but had to discard because you couldn’t get it to work?

If I really like an idea, I don’t really “discard” it so much as put it on the shelf to attempt later. Out of recent fic ideas, I’ve really struggled with “How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days.” I first thought of this in late spring 2017, and for awhile I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but I was working on Whatever I Do at the time, and wanted to wait before starting another WIP. By the time I got to writing this, the inspiration well had sort of dried up. 

I really like the idea of a fun cat-and-mouse rom-com idea where Jyn and Cassian keep outsmarting each other, with a whole lot of competency kink, some “oh shit we actually work well together!” and maybe some battle couple. And I was really looking forward to both the moment when they both finally let their guards down around each other and the big confrontation when they actually find out each other’s identities. But it involved more mission writing than I was prepared for, and I really struggled with it. I think I need to start over but that involves a lot of working, so it’s unfortunately shelved for now, and I’m working on a “You’ve Got Mail” concept instead.

3. Is there something fandom-related you would like to be able to do (i.e. I’d like to be able to make gif sets but can’t)?

Oh, yes, absolutely! Really anything that’s not writing related, lol. Gif sets, art, etc. But most of all, I have a music video idea for the song “So Close” from Enchanted--like I have a whole story board plotted out in a google doc. But I don’t have any video editing software, don’t even know how you get the scenes for a music video, etc. I have made videos before, but not since high school, and I don’t even have the cheap, basic video editing program I used back then. Sometimes I think I should just attempt make a gif set instead, but there are so many lyrics! and scenes that go with the lyrics! that I don’t know how to consolidate it into that format anyways. 

4. What is a skill you’ve acquired through fandom work?

Hmm, this was tough. I’m going to say HTML. I’m not up-to-date on webdesign at all, but back in my early fandom days, I ran a few fansites. I still sometimes use HTML while leaving comments or to edit posts on dreamwidth or w/e. It’s super basic, but it has helped me at work at a variety of jobs. I take it for granted that people my age should know basic HTML, but a lot of them don’t, and then a lot of people I work with now are older and definitely not tech savvy. 

5. Do you think anyone can learn to create great art, or does it take talent?

Well, I’m going to cheat a little. I do think think that anyone can learn to create great art, but I also think that everyone has a talent at something, and part of learning to create great art is recognizing your skill sets and honing those. If that makes sense? I’ve sort of seen both sides to this. I’ve seen naturally talented people create great things, but I also think that they’re probably cheating themselves if they’re not learning and honing their craft and trying to get better. But I’ve also seen people who started out making things that maybe you wouldn’t call great, but they worked hard over and over again, and looking at their work now, you’d say they were talented without ever knowing the difference. Great art = talent + learning + passion. Did that even answer the question? ...moving on

6. Do you prefer AUs or in-universe? Why?

I prefer to write in-universe, for sure. I find modern AUs more challenging, mostly because--and I feel kinda bad saying this--it’s very difficult for me to tap into Jyn and Cassian’s characters without some kind of tragic background. Their experiences and how they coped with them shape their personalities, and it’s really hard to separate them from those. My WWII was easier because, hey, it’s war, not so different from in-verse. But I initially tried to write Learning Curve in a modern AU and I was just totally bored. Putting it in universe made it more interesting to me, especially having to finagle a happier plot inverse. IDK, it might even be that I generally struggle to make up any conflict in modern AUs that feels interesting.

THAT SAID, lol, I definitely read either. So it’s probably strange for me to be hung up on it because I’ve read nice fluffy modern AUs and found them perfectly engaging.

Tagging: @theputterer, @magalis, @allatariel, @mythologicalmango, @threadsketchier  MY USUAL DISCLAIMER APPLIES: no pressure if you just don’t wanna, AND if anyone sees this and was like “aw hey i wish she’d tagged ME” well guess what, I wish I did too! so go ahead and do it and let me know and then i’ll know to tag you next time, too :-) 

Questions:

When you suffer a setback or a series of setbacks when creating (writing, drawing, knitting, any kind of crafty project thing you work on... even work), what are some strategies you use to cope with that stress and move forward?

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to create/make and what did you learn from it?

What part of a bicycle would you be?

What’s a helpful writing (art/crafting/work) technique you’ve learned?

What’s a piece of art that made you see things differently?

You’re a new addition to the crayon box. What color would you be and why?

What was the last board game you played and what did you like or not like about it?

*sorry these came out rather writer heavy!

[pastorg7]

Jesus Christ- Our First Responder

G sermon time I want you to imagine yourself at a dinner party. You've just finished the main course and are quaffing down the last few drops of that delicious Rioja you apportioned to yourself early on. You are full to brimming, but still looking forward to that chocolate desert you spotted in the fridge. You feel happy, bathed in the bonhomie of good company and the gentle hum of conversation. Suddenly you start to feel lightheaded, there's a tightness in your chest, you struggle to breathe, you try to get up but your legs just buckle from beneath you.

You wake up. You are conscious at least, but you can't speak or even move. it's probably a stroke; and the concerned voices you hear assure you that help is coming. You listen to the conversation-

Someone ask's "What should we do?" Suggestions abound "Maybe we should give mouth to mouth". "I'll get some paracetamol"; "Let's check the symptoms on the internet" As you lay dying on the floor, unable to speak or even move that voice inside your head is screaming "CALL THE F***ING AMBULANCE" More redundant suggestions fall like acid, corroding the last vestiges of hope, as the darkness begins to swirl more quickly around you and their voices fade into an all encompassing web of shadows which seems to swallow up everything, even hope.

O.K Pastor G where are you going with this. Why didn't they call the ambulance? Maybe they don't believe in ambulances???? Perhaps they question the existence of phones?????? Ah now Pastor G that's just stupid. So easy to prove that both exist, is it not?

I agree; and I would like to extend the same logic to God ( don't worry i will get back to the story in a moment). I have spoken many times about proofs for God's existence and won't be rehashing them here. If you see a book, you assume an author. Why? Because those characters that comprise language are intelligible to you and every book has an author. What about you? What's the most complex language in the universe? The language of DNA that is written in every cell of your body . It's so complicated that we only acquired the ability to discern it a few decades ago (hat tip to Watson and Crick). The arrangement of your DNA into YOU was deliberate and EVIDENCE of a designer.. If you cannot accept that then logically you would have to accept that simpler things such as jumbo jets could result from a hurricane in a scrap yard. One of the greatest arguments for God's existence is the Fine tuning /cosmological constant argument- we're talking about fine tuning of a unimaginable magnitude -10 to the 120 DECIMAL PLACES.( I've included a short video explaining this).

Ambulances exist, Telephones exist + GOD EXISTS.

i have written extensively on why I believe in The God of the Bible. You are welcome to peruse my posts on this point.

So God exists and Jesus Christ is his only begotten Son. What has that got to do with telephones and ambulances???

When Jesus went about His ministry on this earth, He did some incredible things; he healed the sick He gave sight to the blind He walked on water HE RAISED THE DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And yet what did His disciples ask Him to teach them? "LORD,TEACH US TO PRAY" Matthew 6:5, Luke 11: 1-4. God, Our Creator, Our Heavenly Father is on the Line and it's a collect call. All we have to do is pick up that phone and dial the right number. Jesus Himself made the promise

" And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.” "IF you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you." John 15:7 We all face troubles and often "they come not single spies, but in battalions". Bereavement, marriage breakdown, redundancy......... You can try to face them alone. But why not MAKE THAT CALL; REACH OUT FOR THE FIRST RESPONDER. THE AMBULANCE WILL COME...........

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The Cosmological Constant - absolute proof that God created the universe for a purpose - YouTubeIn cosmology, the cosmological constant (usually denoted by the Greek capital letter lambda: Λ) is the value of the energy density of the vacuum of space. It...www.youtube.com

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Gerry Johnson

6 days ago

Luke 15 : 7 "In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven't strayed away!

Some of the most amazing Christian stories are the ones where God reached down and caused a 180 degree change in that person. Two of my favourite saints are exemplars of that phenomenon ; namely St. Paul and St Dismas. You're all familiar with Paul's conversion on the road to Damascus- Jesus appeared to him in a blinding light saying "Saul why are you persecuting me?". Saint Paul became the greatest evangelist in history and died a martyr's death. Saint Dismas anyone???? He was the good thief crucified beside Jesus. He accepted his wrongdoing and asked Jesus to forgive him. With the last ounce of strength as wave after wave of pain engulfed His Dying body, The Saviour fixed him with a look of pure love assuring him that "Today, you will be with me in Paradise"

I could add myself to that list, but I am not yet a saint!!!! Anyone who has known me for the last half century may testify to the Magnitude of my conversion.

There is someone whom I believe has entered the Pantheon of Saints, in February 2017- Norma Mc Corvey. I sense blank looks in the audience. Jane Roe ring any bells. Yip, the Jane Doe in the infamous Roe VS Wade stain on American jurisprudence

Just think of that; You didn't even know her real name. She was used by a far left lawyer to push for Abortion, given that her home state (Texas) banned the murderous procedure. She was an unwitting pawn in a game that didn't give a whit about her.

Fact number 2 that I bet you didn't know about Norma- SHE NEVER HAD AN ABORTION. In fact the child she wanted to abort was given up for adoption and has her own beautiful family.

Norma McCorvey had it tough. The following is an excerpt from an article I've linked to -

"She was the ninth child of poor rural parents who could not afford her and soon divorced. She was raped repeatedly by her mother’s cousin as a child, and by her own account she would deliberately get caught stealing from local stores so that she would be sent to reform school, which she preferred to her family home. “I beat the fuck out of her,” her mother Mary told Vanity Fair in 2013.

McCorvey was married at 16 to a man who left her when she became pregnant, and when the child was born her mother tricked her into relinquishing custody, claiming that the forms she signed were for “insurance.” She became homeless, and struggled with alcohol, drugs, and suicidal depression. "

She became a pro-choice advocate (working for the next 20 years at a Planned Parenthood death camp). She decided to identify as lesbian and lived with her female partner for 35 years.

Remember Paul- who was busy persecuting and killing the early Christians; and yet was chosen by Christ to bring the Word of God to the Gentiles.

Jesus entered Norma's life in 1995, through the great Pastor Benham. She broke through the sinful "chrysalis" that was keeping her in a slug like state of (dis)grace and became a spiritual "butterfly" who soared toward The Father.

Real Christianity runs on the twin tracks of transformation and love. It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society

“Finding yourself" is not really how it works. You aren't a ten-dollar bill in last winter's coat pocket. You are also not lost. Your true self is right there, buried under cultural conditioning, other people's opinions, and inaccurate conclusions you drew as a kid that became your beliefs about who you are. "Finding yourself" is actually returning to yourself. An unlearning, an excavation, a remembering who you were before the world got its hands on you.” ― Emily McDowell

https://newrepublic.com/article/140793/culture-wars-norma-mccorvey

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The Conversion of Norma McCorvey - YouTubeThe Diocese of Fresno Family Life Ministry and KNXT TV are featuring a Randall Terry documentary film on the life story of Norma McCorvey, the Jane Roe of Ro...www.youtube.com