#it gave me lasting commitment issues and ultimately ruined my second time being in love <3

[deadandphilgames]

omg okay

1. what's your favorite fanfic??

2. what other fandoms were you in before dnp?

3. have you ever been in love?

1. thats so hard to pick, the one i go back to the most to reread is bruising the sun by waveydnp. but theres soo many amazing ones as well (i think i have about 50+ absolute favourites saved to my phone so i can reread them anytime)

2. none, this is my first fandom, i never really experienced a connection that made me want to join a community like i did with phannies

3. yes, twice. the first time turned sour quickly and had a lot of unseen effects on me that im still dealing with, and the second time was the happiest id ever been but it ended a few years ago

[akatsuki-shin]

Review: 天官赐福 Tiān Guān Cì Fú (Heaven Official's Blessing)

Notes:

(Very) long post ahead

Contains spoiler

This is my personal review and does not represent the entire audience, you are free to agree or not agree with what I’ve written here

Feel free to reply/send me a message if there are things you want to discuss

Summary:

The most beloved Crown Prince, pride of the Kingdom of Xianle with abundance of talents and achievements, Xie Lian, ascended to Heaven and became a martial god at the young age of 17 on the path to fulfill his dream "to save the common people".

Three years after his ascension, he saw his kingdom beginning to decline and in order to save his beloved country, Xie Lian defied the rules of Heaven and descended back to the mortal realm. Nevertheless, instead of saving them, his interference ended up accelerating the fall of Xianle, annihilating the once prosperous nation under the war of rebellion and a mysterious, horrifying plague.

The people who once praised and worshipped him day and night now condemned him, his devotees left him, they burnt his temples and divine statues, and Xie Lian himself was ultimately banished from the Heaven.

He ascended for the second time a short while later, but was banished once more very soon after. Since then, he lived among the mortals - surviving by collecting junks as he was now branded as the "God of Misfortune", the "Scrap Collecting Immortal".

800 years later, Xie Lian ascended again for the third time. Though having neither temples nor devotees, he accepted his responsibility as a martial god and carried on with his duties until one day, there came a certain, incidental encounter with a mysterious youth clad in red.

STORY: 7/10

TGCF overall is an (almost) complete, satisfying read with well-written twists and development.

Unlike the two previous MXTX's novels, the main pairing here (HuaLian) did not have to go through complicated misunderstandings and is a beautiful representation of love and devotion. Of course, this means there is a lack of conflict between them, but considering all the trials and tribulations the characters have gone through, this lack of conflict feels like a relieving fresh spring amidst the painful and exhausting journey throughout the entire five books.

The best and my most favorite plot twist is the Earth Master Ming Yi having been dead for a while, and the "Ming Yi" we know turns out to be the Black Water Submerging Boats, He Xuan. I'm the kind of person who always suspects characters, but even my furthest suspicion was "only" him being the Reverend of Empty Words, not He Xuan.

Truthfully, prior to reading this novel, I've seen Shi Qingxuan's "MING-XIONG, I'M SORRY x9999" post before without context, and I thought Ming Yi was going to die a tragic death because of Shi Qingxuan. Turns out it's kind of the opposite, huh? Nice one, really.

I also like how each character's "end" feels satisfying. Especially for the villains, they didn't necessarily have to die some tragic, vengeful death, but was provided with an ending that perfectly fits their background story and deeds. For example, in most stories, a character like Xuan Ji would be most likely be given some well-deserved punishment as her death, given everything she's done. But no, in the end she was given a reality check and was finally able to let go of her hundreds of years grudge. And then Qi Rong - I will talk more about him later on in the "Character" section.

One part I really love is the Extra Chapter about the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods. The chapter itself overall is mostly nonsensical and chaotic, but it was just so touching when HuaLian created a "Little Hua Cheng" statue to accompany Xie Lian's "Crown Prince who Pleased the Gods" statue, especially when this Little Hua Cheng statue gave Crown Prince Xie Lian statue a flower, and then Crown Prince Xie Lian received it, lifted him up and carried him in his arms. This one was maybe a bit biased because as much as I love the current HuaLian, I have a special soft spot for the young Xie Lian carrying, cradling the little Hua Cheng back then in the past. ;v;

Though, with all due respect, I must say that TGCF is actually below my expectation.

The biggest issue I have with TGCF is... What is Xie Lian's motivation? What drives him to move forward in the story? What is even the whole story's purpose?

I'm not quite sure how to word this properly, but let me give some examples.

When you read Harry Potter, you know immediately that Voldemort is the bad guy and he must be defeated.

When you read the Lord of the Rings, you know immediately that the One Ring must be destroyed to prevent Sauron from regaining his power.

Or, in MXTX previous works...

In SVSSS, it was clear since the beginning that Shen Yuan's mission is to fix the "Proud Immortal Demon Way" if he wants to survive.

In MDZS, it was clear that Wei Wuxian, together with Lan Wangji's, needs to unravel the mystery behind that fierce left arm. All of their past stories and WangXian getting together in the end are just something they discovered along the way, not the initial "motivation" that drives the character to move forward.

What about TGCF? The Xie Lian who ascended for the third time actually looks like he just wants to go along with the flow, carrying out his duties day by day with responsibility. When Bai Wuxiang later, later, later on appeared to haunt him again, it didn't seem like Xie Lian has any ambition to hunt him down or exact a revenge, just that he wanted to forget about Bai Wuxiang and never recall anything about him ever again. The main character looks like he's not being driven by anything, just...carrying on where the plot takes him? It's just missions after missions and whatever huge things happening in between is just something they accidentally passed by along the way.

At this point, the only purpose of the story I can think of is bringing Hua Cheng and Xie Lian together. The romance is great, I have no complain. But if it's just that, no need to jammed-pack 250+ chapters just to make two people getting together?

Speaking of which, I also think that the way new characters keep being introduced all the way to almost the final showdown of the story feels info dump-ish, because the background story needs to be dropped there along with the characters, but then most of these characters fade away immediately after.

For example, the previous Civil God before Ling Wen, who looks like he’s going to pose some real trouble, but then was easily defeated and was never mentioned again afterwards. And this is especially true for He Xuan; after such a huge arc where he committed such extreme things, after that he was barely mentioned again, even having his “strong impression” leveled down by the joke about him being the poorest Calamity and owing lots of debts to Hua Cheng.

Basically what makes TGCF a long story is because there are too many stories about the side characters in addition to the main characters that are dumped out of the blue instead of slowly being revealed along the way.

Though, I love how the story gradually unravels the "Four Famous Tales" because initially, I thought it wasn't something crucial, and I wished they could've done this for other characters, too.

There is a little bit of plot holes here and there, as in who actually cut open Jian Lan/Lan Chang's baby and made it a ghost, and for what? Even if it turned out that she just met a bad guy or nobody important, at least provide an explanation in one paragraph? Especially because important side characters like Feng Xin and Mu Qing are involved here, so I'm pretty sure us readers need some explanation.

And more importantly, how can Jun Wu become the Emperor martial god? There's no mention about him ascending, only that he annihilated a dynasty of gods before sitting on the throne of the Great Martial Hall. But how can he, like, emitted god-like aura and not some evil aura? Is it because he used to be a god? But he's a ghost? Explanation where???

The gags and comedies are pretty fun, but honestly, the more I read, the more they ruin the atmosphere and suspense, added with the uncalled PDA between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian even during the most important moments. Honestly, I was bored the fuck out of my life from the moment they start fighting Jun Wu with those divine gundams, and only start gaining interest again much later on when Hua Cheng dissipated into butterflies.

Not saying the story's bad. Just... It's not up to my expectation... Characters being inserted here and there with a bunch of background story, gags and a show of PDA being flaunted during crucial moments. And when Mei Nianqing started telling the truth about the Kingdom of Wuyong, that's just plain info dump right there, seriously...

CHARACTERS: 7/10

Interesting characters, but only a few bore a lasting impression on me. Other than the main characters, which are Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, the only side characters (minus Bai Wuxiang as the main villain) who left quite some impression on me were probably just Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

Pei Ming is okay, at least he is still memorable until the end, and his character improved, too.

He Xuan, after having been introduced with such extreme, after his arc is over, was easily forgotten just like that.

Mei Nianqing, is borderline Deus Ex-Machina with a huge chunk of info dump that could solve everything, then he stopped being useful for the rest of the story.

Shi Qingxuan... Honestly, he's almost annoying, too noisy. I don’t hate him (and I kind of like him initially), but the way his character was being handled and presented post-Black Water arc feels disappointingly lazy and he was just there to make the party more merry.

Xie Lian himself, as the protagonist, how do I say this... This is maybe due to the translator's writing style (not MXTX’s fault), but whenever he screams in all capslock, it feels too extreme and borderline OOC? Of course, the original novel written in hanzi couldn't have included capslock.

What's great about him, though, is that despite all he'd gone through, he can still retain a pure heart and could not be swayed to be evil, just as he himself said "Body in the abyss, heart in paradise".

Now Hua Cheng, he is overall a super interesting character and I personally love this type of male characters. But he seriously is way too OP, almost like the original Luo Binghe (Bing-ge) a.k.a. too ideal, too perfect, no flaws, always capable of easily finding a way out in every single peril. I only forgive him for being like this because he dissipated into butterflies at the end of the battle with Jun Wu, making me think "oh, finally he's actually not invincible".

Still, his devotion to Xie Lian is very well written, very well presented, and his "I am forever your most devoted believer" is just downright the most powerful line in the whole story.

Now I promised to talk about Qi Rong, yeah? I haven't the slightest idea why it is even necessary to have Qi Rong as the Night-touring Green Lantern. I mean, yes he is there to make up the number of the Four Great Calamities, but that was for the characters who live in that world. As the novel's reader, I don't see any particularly important roles there for Qi Rong other than being an annoying meme fodder despite his actually pretty-cool first foreshadowing and appearance? Even his issue with Lang Qianqiu does not seem to give that much impact on the overall story, it could've just passed simply being explained in several pages.

Though I'd say he's got the best character development compared to others. Instead of dying as some hateful villain, the way he ended up deciding to protect Guzi at the cost of his own life can already be expected from miles away, but still bittersweet and touching nonetheless - how this crazed, mental person could still love when being presented with such pure, innocent feelings to the point that he acknowledged Guzi as a his own son.

By the way, E Ming and Ruoye are cute, I take no criticism.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS: 8/10

I can't really describe this with words, but MXTX's overall writing technique has greatly improved since MDZS.

It feels more "solid" to read instead of scattered here and there.

The info distribution has improved (fewer info dump compared to before), the story's no longer switching between past and present all of a sudden.

Description of characters and environment are sufficient, the plot is progressing steadily.

Several issues I have with this aspect though, the Prologue being ten pages is just way too long, I don't think I need that much information being stuffed right to my face right from the beginning.

There are excessive use of "Turns out..." every single time an explanation is going to come.

"Xie Lian didn't know whether he should cry or laugh" is honestly has been used probably more than 50 times just in the last two books. Although I'm reading a translation, I'm pretty sure the original Chinese version is being repetitive with this phrase, as well, because the translators couldn't just whip up any other phrase from thin air and put it in someone else's novel.

Almost half of scene transition is always caused by some sudden, external disturbance like "All of a sudden they heard someone's coming", "All of a sudden X visits their room", etc.

OVERALL SCORE: 7.3/10

Worth to read, satisfying overall. The main pairing's love story is just so well written and sweet. As long as you can withstand the violence and gore, though. 😂

TGCF highlights perhaps one of the ugliest natures of mankind: Being nice to someone as long as they're beneficial, and immediately throwing them away once the benefit was no more.

Once that person does not seem to be beneficial anymore, everyone would leave them instantly, even turning on them and start spitting on them without even trying to understand the reason why said person "stopped being beneficial".

Both as a Crown Prince and a martial god, Xie Lian and the Crown Prince of Wuyong were praised, revered, worshipped by the citizens of Xianle and Wuyong respectively. Because they were always helping, always fulfilling the people's wishes. But how easily it was for those very same people to turn on Xie Lian and the Crown Prince of Wuyong when they encountered misfortunes, completely turning a blind eye to the laborious effort both characters have been putting to save them from annihilation, even if it was visible in broad daylight.

It is also worth to note another trait of mankind that this story underlines: To always find a scapegoat or blame others for one's own misfortune and failure - be it another human being, another group of people, the government, even the gods - after having taking their generosity for granted.

Which is why I think the true villain of the story is not Bai Wuxiang, but those citizens of the ancient Wuyong who were now nothing more than resentful spirits eternally burning within the lava of Tonglu Mountain - a well deserved punishment after what they did to their Crown Prince.

[apapertrail-journalsir]

“the drunkards disease.” 6/18/21 3:04pm Final Copy

They say to just start writing even if you don’t want to, same as most things; practice makes perfect.

Now, with that being said, I want to talk about my father today the only way I know how to, through a piece of paper.

Which “technically” is just a handwritten projection of my own thoughts, so I guess I’m just venting to myself right now.

How Original.

My father has been in the hospital for days now, not getting any better. He’s been told his pancreas is dying, which is causing his liver enzymes to be fucked up. This as a result, will progressively lead his liver to fail. Concluding this sick and twisted domino effect.

“the drunkards disease”

I remember in my adolescent years, always complaining about my parents excessive drinking, of course words couldn’t even begin to describe the severity of what went on in my “home” every night after I got home from school. Every time I stepped foot down the school bus stairs onto the worn down asphalt of my street, it was like I was preparing to march into battle. Anxiety would suffocate me as I approached the front door.

This was a every single day reality for me and the only people who truly understood, were my siblings.

I read online that although it is possible “in EXTREME cases”, most heavy alcoholics don’t develop these issues until around 65-70 years old.

My dad is 51 and most likely won’t see the day he turns 52.

I am a fully committed pessimist unfortunately, not even a raging optimist can argue with the test results.

But would you like to know what frustrates me the most, leaving me tossing and turning wide fucking awake in the earliest hours of the morning?

The fact that he’s not telling me anything!

Don’t get me wrong, our relationship is in complete ruins but regardless, don’t you think that if he got his results back he should be updating me on something as important as that? It would be worth mentioning that I asked about the test results three times that same day.

Only to be thoroughly ignored, ALL THREE FUCKING TIMES.

The whole situation is just all types of fucked up.

I asked my youngest brother what hospital he was being treated at and he confirmed that my father is at the one only about 15 minutes away from my house. I’ve been debating back and forth for two damn days now on randomly showing up unannounced to his room in hopes to see him one last time, but when I get there what am I even going to say?

I genuinely don’t even know this man anymore and vice versa.

What the fuck do I say to the man who cold heartedly kicked out his first born son while still a teen. Selfishly leaving him to fend for himself on the unpredictably violent streets of the inner city. Meanwhile, he soundly rests his bald head comfortably in his materialistic kingdom of a home, filled with nothing but regrets and ruled by his new, stink eyed, pot belly queen.

The same exact man who looked deep in his sons struggling eyes and said he would never give up on him, and then did.

So now, here I am crying about a shitty and selfish man, who should have never been a father in the first place!!

Stupid.

I will admit, I do understand why that man is the way he is, he never truly had a solid chance at mental stability. Given away at birth and raised by his adopted parents, only to find his own adopted dad, dead in the kitchen by his own hand.

So, you tell me if you think he had a chance?

On second thoughts let me revise that, he did have a split in the road decision but took the wrong route, only to end up a bitter old man.

He had a chance, until his hand met that bottle. Refusing to put it down for a little to long.

Foolishly picked up, as a very effective maladaptive coping skill to numb the constant pain that subsides deep down inside his blackened heart.

Then, this same man hypocritically crucifies ME for struggling with addiction and chemical dependency issues so bad the majority of my life,

HM, I WONDER WHY???

MAYBE, IT’S BECAUSE THAT’S HOW I WAS TAUGHT TO DEAL WITH PAIN MY WHOLE CHILDHOOD!

Fuck.

I don’t know how many times I’ve attempted to explain my BPD and it’s anchoring roots, birthed from the seeds planted during the most impressionable years of my childhood.

Damning me to grow up to be a very mentally unstable and insecure shell of a man.

Still, they would without fail deny deny deny taking part in my inevitable downfall at all.

Acting like a bunch of clueless chickens with their heads chopped off, running around screaming... “what could we have done!?!????”

A fuck ton.

Yet you were always WAY to self absorbed and heartless to realize what you were ultimately doing to your oldest sons underdeveloped brain.

A sensitive brain.

So nowadays, I’m over it and bridges have burned.

I may bury my feelings the same way, but at least I never gave up like a fucking coward.

Where were you?

You weren’t fucking there,

so what’s done is done as what’s said is said.

In conclusion, I wholeheartedly swear to everyone reading this disaster-piece that it will be a cold cold day in Hell if I EVER abandon MY OWN son for struggling and needing his father. Just to shun him away as he continuously BEGS and BEGS to make amends in a attempt to solidify our damaged relationship once more.

I’m shedding tear after tear, still alone, preparing myself to mourn a man I once called “Dad” and now is nothing more then a painfully saddening memory... for the rest of my days.

You may ask me why I care so much about a failure of a father/husband. who has absolutely no place in his heart for his own son,

only for that stupid fucking bottle?

Because,

I loved you dad.

i.r.

[amberjade-rhodes]

Hard Conversations | AJ + Bryce

WHEN: 27 March 2021

LOCATION: AJ’s dealer’s apartment, undisclosed off-campus location

NB: Not having seen each other since returning from their camping trip last weekend, AJ runs into Bryce at her dealer’s apartment late one evening. It leads to an argument between the two of them that neither are fully equipped to process or deal with.

@brycecortez

Amber-Jade wasn't stupid. She knew that something was wrong with Bryce, yet she knew better than to pry or push for details that he wasn't ready to share. AJ had organised a week's worth of meals and had left them on his doorstep, along with a card to let him know that he could always reach out if he needed her, and was just hoping that she would hear from her boyfriend soon. His sudden absence from her life, in conjunction with the usual issues that she dealt with on a daily basis, was enough to send her running to her dealer's house; intending on buying whatever the dealer was willing to give her a discount on. Her eyes widened slightly when she walked in and saw Bryce already there, clearly in the middle of buying shit himself. A master at avoiding difficult situations, AJ fully intended to just turn and leave; only for that plan to be ruined when the dealer greeted her instead. /"Damn AJ, what a pleasant surprise. You're in luck, babe. I've got a special on ecstasy, cocaine and weed -- sale ends tonight and is only for people that walk in here looking that damn fine"/

To think that Bryce had already been two weeks deep into his relapse was beyond him. And yet, it was as if he never stopped. Everything had gotten so out of control in his mind, that the only way for him to possibly sleep or even be able to think straight was through drugs. Even then, he was barely functional. It had only been a week since he last saw his girlfriend, and a week was all it took for him to begin to let himself go. He stopped going to class, stop attending work, and was barely even trying to survive at this point. He washed himself up a bit before heading over to his dealers house; a guy he barely knew, but that his classmate told him was decent enough until the guy off located further from campus got back to town. He had just accepted the bags of coke, handing the man his money when he heard someone walk in. He didn’t bother to look before the other man announced Amber-Jade’s entrance, and Bryce could immediately feel his skin begin to burn up. His eyes raised in shock at how the man addressed her, his eyes darting back and forth between his girlfriend and the drug dealer. He took a moment to process before snapping, turning around and pushing the other male roughly against the wall. “What did you just fucking say?” He snapped, his voice coming out sharply as he spat out the words. “Listen to me here, she’s not the one to be fucking with, you hear me? If I even hear that you’re talking to her, looking at her, let alone dealing to her I will come back here and beat the shit out of you and anyone else that’s here.” He said coldly as anger took over his body. He looked at the man with stern, cold eyes to make sure he understood before letting go. Turning around, he began walking towards the exit. “You shouldn’t be here.” He said to his girlfriend as he walked past her to go outside.

Amber-Jade hadn't expected to run into her boyfriend whilst at her dealer's apartment. Whilst Bryce did know about the fact that she engaged in recreational drug use, theoretically having that knowledge and then seeing the realities of it were two completely separate things. As the dealer didn't know about the connection between the two customers who were currently in his apartment, he unintentionally made it worse by hitting on her; Bryce immediately seeing red and pushing the guy against the wall. "Bryce, stop!" AJ cried out, not wanting this situation to escalate any further. She was worried that a loud altercation could result in the police being called, which would result in the two of them getting busted for possession. Neither of them needed that right now and even though this was the first time that she had seen him in a week, it was immediately evident to her that he wasn't okay. Honestly, he looked the worst that she had ever seen him. "It's not worth it, okay? It's just a comment. He's not going to do anything to me. If he even tried, I'd knock him flat on his ass", she said as she crossed the room intending to separate the two of them; only for Bryce to let go and walk away; throwing one parting shot over his shoulder. AJ quickly apologised for causing a scene and then followed him, jogging to catch up with him. "You're literally here for the exact same thing as me, Bryce. Why is it okay for you and not okay for me?" she challenged once she had reached him.

Bryce stuffed the drugs into his pocket as he stormed out of the house. The last thing he needed was to bring more attention to himself that he already has. He wasn’t proud of his relapse, and the last thing he wanted was to get busted and viewed as another troubled vet that went down the drain. He was just about to reach his truck when he heard his girlfriends voice. “Did you not hear what the hell he said to you?” He asked, his voice showing his shock as he turned around to face her. “Or do you let every guy talk to you like that?”

Amber-Jade sighed softly when she heard Bryce's retort. His first sentence seemed angry about the situation itself, yet the second sentence was very clearly directed at her. "Of course I heard what he said, Bryce. I've literally heard shit like that every single day since I was about 13 or 14. If I shoved every guy up against the wall and threatened them for saying shit like that, I certainly wouldn't be where I am today", AJ told him. "I understand that you're upset but /please/ don't talk to me like that. I'm not privileged like most of the students here, alright? Sometimes I do let comments like that slide because it's easier, okay? You have no idea what would happen to me if I called out that shit every single time, no idea". As a half-Jamaican woman from a low socioeconomic background, she had seen the worst of society; and she knew full well that certain people wouldn't respond kindly to her rejecting them. She had learned to bite her tongue in certain situations. Rather than getting into the truck with Bryce, she made her way over to the nearest bus stop and sat down on the bench; waiting for the next bus to arrive.

Bryce was still trying to process what just happened moments ago. He typically wasn’t the insecure type, but with the comment on top of everything else...well, it was safe to say he had a short fuse. “I get it Amber, but I thought we were on the same page here with the whole committed relationship thing.” He simply stated, but not long before she walked away from him. His eyes darted between his truck and the nearest bus stop, debating on what he should do in that moment. Ultimately, he walked after her. “I’m not letting you take the bus this late.” He said quietly as he approached her, his arms crossed over his chest. “I can drive you home.”

Amber-Jade stared at him in surprise when he made the comment about the two of them being in a committed relationship. "So a guy makes a comment that objectifies me and suddenly you're questioning my commitment to you?" AJ questioned, her voice breaking slightly. Her quick retreat to the bus stop was so that Bryce wouldn't see the fact that she was quickly becoming emotional; not wanting to be vulnerable around him when he was like that. Instead, he followed her and insisted on driving her home. "It's fine, Bryce. I'll text you when I get home, okay? It's obvious that you're going through something right now and I really want to be there for you but you're doing your best to push me away. I haven't seen you in a week and the very first time that I do see you, you question our entire relationship. Committing to you wasn't a decision I made lightly and you know that. I've given you pieces of me that I always swore I would never give to /anyone/ and a couple of sleazy comments from a random dealer doesn't change that".

“Would you have stopped it if I weren’t there? Because I don’t think you would appreciate seeing random girls making it obvious they want to fuck me right in front of you.” Bryce stated back. He immediately swallowed his words as Amber stormed off, and as he found himself chasing after her. He looked down at the foggy street as she spoke, not being able to make eye contact with the brunette as she spoke. “Is this just a random drug dealer for you though?” He asked quietly before looking back at her. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me for the rest of the night, but at least let you take you home...or wherever you’re going. It’s late.”

“I would have rolled my eyes at him and told that I was taken, which is what I do every single time someone hits on me", Amber-Jade informed him. "You're right, I wouldn't like it if someone hit on you while I was standing right there. That doesn't mean that I would have questioned your commitment to me, though; and I certainly wouldn't have shoved the woman against the nearest wall and threatened her. I know that someone hitting on you doesn't suggest that you want to cheat on me", she told him. "If you must know, Joey is my usual drug dealer. This guy is my back-up option for when Joey isn't available so when he didn't answer my text tonight, I came here", she explained. "Why are you here anyway? What are you using and when did you start?" In the past, the most that Bryce did when around her was smoke a couple of joints. "You don't get it, do you? I'm stupidly in love with you, Bryce. Falling in love with you was absolutely terrifying because it officially gave you all this power over me but I took the chance anyway because I can't imagine not having you in my life and now? Now you haven't spoken to me in a week and you question my commitment to you and it feels an awful lot like you're getting ready to leave me. If that's your plan, can you please just do it already and put me out of my misery?" As she spoke, her eyes welled with tears and although she frantically tried to blink them away, a few stray tears rolled down her cheeks instead.

“Alright, I’ll just stay quiet next time.” Bryce conceded, dropping the topic. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The man truly didn’t mean to be rude, or for his girlfriend to see this side of him, but he couldn’t find the mental capacity to put on that facade that he was okay, not anymore. “It’s nothing new for me. It doesn’t matter.” He quickly shrugged off the questions. He wasn’t proud of his relapse, as his sobriety was always the one thing that seemed to give him some purpose. He only got into smoking weed again a few weeks ago, and even that was bad for him. The man was officially risking everything with his drug use. “Do you really want to do this right here, right now? Can we not?” He asked, almost pleading. Bryce was never good at talking about hard things, especially when he wasn’t comfortable. “I’m not breaking up with you, unless if you want me to. But you’re not the only one that goes through shit that other people wouldn’t understand, Amber.”

"I won't go back to his place again, okay? If Joey isn't available, I'll just wait". Although she didn't necessarily agree with the way that he reacted to the situation, she didn't want to do anything that would make him angry or upset so she wouldn't have any further interactions with the guy. She just nodded when he dismissed her questions; whilst she wanted the answers, she knew that pushing Bryce wouldn't get her the answers that she was after and it would likely just push him further away. He clearly wasn't ready to talk about it. "Right, we don't need to do this". AJ could feel her walls rebuilding -- she had gotten raw and vulnerable with him; only for Bryce to question her commitment to him, avoid the questions she had posed, and shut down the conversation that she was trying to have. His final remark, about her not being the only one that goes through shit that other people wouldn't understand, did truly cut her and only served to further reinforce those boundaries and walls. "Go home, Bryce. I have no intention of getting in your truck with you right now and giving you more opportunities to take shots at me".

"You can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me.” Bryce said with a shrug. He wished he could say he didn’t know how things between them exploded like this, but he knew exactly what it was. This was him ruining everything good in his life because he couldn’t talk about his feelings, once again. But it was way too late to back down now, as he was already in too deep. “Right. Fine, I’ll go. Feel free to go back in there and get your drugs once I’m gone, and do whatever the hell you want to do.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked back to his truck. He climbed inside and took out the bag of coke from the pocket of his sweatpants. Opening the small baggie, he put a finger in there and gathered some of contents of the drug, enough to cover the tip of his finger; sniffing it quickly and turning on the car. Not thinking twice about it, he put the vehicle into drive before speeding off.

The whole situation had escalated so quickly and AJ really had no idea how to deescalate it. The version of Bryce that was standing in front of her really didn't seem to like her all that much; it was like he wanted to pick fault with everything she did. She understood the behaviour enough to know that it was a defence mechanism and a survival strategy but that didn't mean that it hurt any less; especially when she had no idea just what was actually going on in Bryce's life. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest as he left, his comments sounding a hell of a lot like a breakup. Tears steadily burned down her cheeks as she watched him pull away at a high speed, not having been brave enough to ask whether their relationship was over; or make any sort of returning argument, knowing that it would just escalate the situation even further.

[yeniayofnymeria]

Dance of Dragons and Players

Will be happened second DoD? Short answer; yes.

-GRRM

Hi, short question. Will we find out more about the Dance of the Dragons in future books?

The first dance or the second?

The second will be the subject of a book. The first will be mentioned from time to time, I'm sure. - SSM

-Book

“ Dragons ?” said her mother. “Teora, don’t be mad." “I’m not. They’re coming.” “How could you possibly know that?” her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. “One of your little dreams?” Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died.” (TWoW, Arianne)

History repeats itself and GRRM knows it as a history lover. That's why he does the same in his books from time to time. Events can be based on the same root cause and similar points, but each has specific conditions and roles in itself.

Therefore, it will not be correct to search for one-on-one similarity while distributing the roles of the second dance that will take place(afterall GRRM will not copy and paste) but still, I want to talk to you about this.

According to you, which players of the second DoD can match the players of the first? How will the sides be separated? Greens and Blacks or something else? Hints from books? Reasons?

I'll start first. In my opinion, not all players match, but these are the ones I think match.(Some characters fit more than one person.)

Criston Cole - Jorah Mormont

Otto Hightower - Jon Conn. and Doran Martell

Corlys Velaryon - Tyrion Lannister

Dalton Greyjoy - Victarion Greyjoy

Larys Strong - Varys (Almost same name :D )

Erryk Cargyll and Arryk Cargyll: Well, these are twins Quenn/King's Guard, one was on Rae's side and the other on Aegon. In fact, they don't have a very important role, but a "tragic" sibling relationship. There are two separate rumors that they love and hate each other. These two brothers reminded me of Jaime and Tyrion; love and hate each other and i believe they will be two different sides in the first place (later, will change probably).

Also in books, Olenna Tyrell's has twins guards, their name are Erryk and Arryk too but I can not see them a role in this war.(for now)

Addam and Alyn Valeryon - Aurane Waters

Daemon Targaryen - Euron Greyjoy

The Shepherd- High Sparrow. In fact, the current High Sparrow also looks like the Sparrow in the time of Maegor and Aenys. We can say he is the mix of all of them.

This is the role distribution for me for now. Let's come to the leading roles.

How are the sides separated? A name, a color, a coat of arms ...

In fact, before the first Dance, divisions began in the form of the Rhaenyra party and the Alicent party, but then they were divided into blacks and greens because of the clothes they wore in a tournament.

No doubt there is no tournament. For the Dance of the Dragons, it is right to look at the colors of the dragons.

Rhaegal - Green (Jon)

Drogon - Black (Dany)

Viserion- White (Aegon?)

The first dance was between two sides, so it might be thought that the second dance would be the same. Readers often assume this way. Could be true. But we have three dragons and three colors. Also three of our throne candidates; Jon, Dany, Aegon.

If the dance is between the two sides, we will wait for them to separate as blacks and greens. If it will be experienced among three sides, it will be necessary to add whites.

Even Tyrion's eyes are a sign of this; green and black. He will play both sides like Moqorro's said.

"Someone told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. What do you see in those flames?"

"Dragons," Moqorro said in the Common Tongue of Westeros. He spoke it very well, with hardly a trace of accent. No doubt that was one reason the high priest Benerro had chosen him to bring the faith of R'hllor to Daenerys Targaryen. "Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all."

"Snarling? An amiable fellow like me?" Tyrion was almost flattered.

And also he has dream. It is a sign too for Dance 2, i believe.

That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood. He was in the midst of it, dealing death with an axe as big as he was, fighting side by side with Barristan the Bold and Bittersteel as dragons wheeled across the sky above them. In the dream he had two heads, both noseless. His father led the enemy, so he slew him once again. Then he killed his brother, Jaime, hacking at his face until it was a red ruin, laughing every time he struck a blow. Only when the fight was finished did he realize that his second head was weeping.

It should not be forgotten that Tyrion is Jon's friend, and he has relatives with Stark as he is married to Sansa. (A bitter marriage, but ultimately a marriage.)

Some readers think that Jon cannot be part of this Dance because he is not interested sit the iron throne. I think we're looking at it from the wrong place. The sole aim and sole focus of this war will not be the throne itself. There are too many variable factors in the Second Dance that are not in the first.

What are those?

Starks and Targaryens hate the Lannisters, Targanyens (Dany) hate the Starks, Lannisters and Baratheons. Dany wants revenge. Lannisters cannot easily approach anyone this time, everyone hates them. But Tyreller wants to have power. Marg's being a queen means that Tyrels have power. So for now, there is an alliance between these two households. (Lannister-Tyrell) An probably there is this Blackfyre issue. There are the Others beyond the North. The battle of Ice and Fire will take place. Jon doesn't have zero ambition, as in the show. We know that he will experience a serious change after his resurrection. He will become a darker character. Anyway, even Arya can have an influence on Jon, as she turns into a vengeful spirit. (My “the champion” theory)

This dance will most likely be in the last book. In the last book, it is not possible to commit both the Dance and the Others war at the same time. This always makes me think. So I thought GRRM could nest these two battles.

As a result, Jon will be drawn into this war, even if he doesn't want to. Some things are inevitable, especially after deciphering his true identity. So, if the parties are going to be greens and blacks ... And if the colors of the dragons decide ... Then it seems inevitable that Jon is the leader of the greens.

If Aegon is truly a Blackfyre, Jon is the prince's only child. Is it wrong to wait for Jon to ride the dragon named after his father?

( I can't imagine Jon riding Viserion even if Aegon is the real Targaryen. Viserion name? Really? Püfff If the name of the white dragon was Rhaegal, okay but not. Actually, there is this too. If GRRM would not make Jon the leader of the greens, why he did call the green dragon as Rhaegal ? The white dragon would have given this name. Or he would have given the white dragon a more appropriate name. Since the dragon is white, we would think that Jon would ride this dragon. White-headed sword, white wolf arm and white wolf. It makes sense. But the green one was called Rhaegal and the white one was called Viserion. We need to think about that. )

One of the reasons I think the dance's main sides will be Jon and Dany is this.

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

Jonerys fans believe this is a FS for "love". No it is not. First of all, the symbol of love is red rose, not blue rose. The blue rose symbolizes Lyanna and Jon. Another name for the blue rose is the snow blue flower. This flower is the symbol of the north and Winterfell. The sweet smell was presented as a death sign in this books many times.

Example:

He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. (Ser Darry's moment of death.)

A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. The leaves were crusted with blood and pus, Drogo's breast black and glistening with corruption. (Drogo dies)

There was a smell of death about that room; a heavy smell, sweet and foul, clinging. (Cat's father's room)

Another important detail is that Undying ones showed her important things. The things and people threatening her, her enemies ... They tell her to be careful. In summary, Jon is a "death" threat to Dany, directly or indirectly. Ever since I noticed this detail, I waited for Jon to cause her death. I don't need to tell you the result. :D Of course I was waiting in the books ...

In order for this to happen, these two have to be enemies; greens and blacks.

Well, if there is a third side? Then it is Aegon. Whites. Blackfyre. Tyrion had a relationship with all three dragons. (He will meet Dany.) Moqorro actually counted all kinds of dragons.

3 number is important for Targaryens. Aerys had 3 living children, Jon is third child. Dragon has 3 heads. There are 3 dragons. Dany's prophecies and this Moqorro's dragon prophecies: old and young, true and false, bright and dark.

Generally, we thought that every word in a sentence describes a person, but so many dragons should not be expected. Besides dragon has 3 heads :D

Old-Young is 1 person.

True- False is 1 person.

Bright-Dark is 1 person.

All dragons are fighting, and Tyrion is in the middle of this war and is stuck in between them.

The white cyvasse dragon ended up at Tyrion's feet. He scooped it off the carpet and wiped it on his sleeve, but some of the Yunkish blood had collected in the fine grooves of the carving, so the pale wood seemed veined with red... He tossed the bloody dragon in the air, caught it, grinned.

This is an interesting detail. Perhaps the white dragon (Aegon) would die first in this war. If the dance is going to die between 2 sides (greens-blacks) then Viseron will probably never come to the west. (If this is a FS for Viserion. Viserion was the dragon that was frequently seen in this pov and took action. 6th book.)

What do you think?

[dolinskys-blog]

heya gang ! i’m meredith, i’m 18 ( almost typed 81 , classic  ) and i use they/them pronouns. i’m SO hyped to be here, and to get to writing and plotting with you all. don’t hesitate to im me to get to brainstorming about dynamics, or if you’d rather talk on discord, let me know. i’ve included summer’s bio underneath the cut, now enjoy a really cute gif. 

edit: my gif didn’t even paste, but whatever, here it is. im truly booboo the fool. 

IC ( 1 )

Relationship to Judah: The First Love

Name: Summer Dolinsky

Faceclaim: Inbar Lavi

Age: Thirty-three

IC ( 2 )

Freshman year, and the school already bowed at her feet. Her hair rose high in a bouncy pony of enviable ink black locks, her makeup was as pristine as her cheerleading uniform, she always smelled like bubblegum. She was best friends with the senior girls, and with backs pressed against lockers, they giggled through glossed lips as mascara ringed eyes hunted down the target of their next snide remark. Bullies, brats, bitches — whatever stereotype there was from film and television, Summer fit it tenfold. Her perfectly manicured nails more-so resembled talons, and she never knew how to shut her mouth. Though rejections rained down on peers her own age, her eyes were set on someone much more her style: the senior captain of the football team.

The second party of sophomore year, Summer got her wish. A kiss snuck in the bedroom of the host, Chadwick Hill had barely gotten to second place before his girlfriend burst into the room, catching her wide-eyed protegé dancing on the edge of the ultimate betrayal. Nasty skank, she’d said the next day, and despite training at cheer camp all vacation long, Summer mysteriously didn’t make the squad after tryouts a week later. Simply as penance for the nerve of Summer simply showing up, the rumours she had perpetuated just weeks prior came crashing down on her. I heard she slept with a teacher. I heard she was in there with two guys at once. Maybe she has syphilis? My mom told me she heard at a PTA meeting that Summer is pregnant. Then — of course, her knight in shining armour. She’d been horrible and cruel, but Judah was still her rescuer. At first, there were certain reservations that came with climbing down from the height of popularity to the rat pack, but Summer quickly began to embrace the Rat Pack as her own. Mutual trust issues eventually dissipated, and she’d finally had a home.

And now that she was home, her true self was able to shine. A math whiz, a trashy romance novel junkie, the maker of the best chocolate chip cookies in the state. She stopped straightening her hair and plucking her eyebrows thin. Lips were still glossed and nails were still painted, but in the colors she wanted. But one thing hadn’t disappeared from her days of popularity: Summer’s desire for more. She was always ambitious, always hungry for more, so it was of very little shock to anyone when she overloaded her class schedule with APs, any extracurricular she could manage while still staying out of the way of the crowd she ran with formerly, college classes at the nearest community college during free periods. There was always an air of easy confidence surrounding Summer, and even though it masked deep set insecurity that never really faded after her social blunders sophomore year, she didn’t let it show. She still was perfect: just a new kind of flawless.

Being cut-throat doesn’t go away that easy either, and though Summer mellowed out considerably during her first months in the Rat Pack, she still was always game for lively debates. Which candy was the best ( Sour Patch Kids, which she could eat by the fistful ), which baseball team ( she committed sacrelige in being a hard-core Yankees fan, the first six years of her life spent in New York ), which teacher was the best ( it changed weekly with whoever gave her the best grades. ) She didn’t actively encourage conflict, but she didn’t push anyone away from it either. Some of her most lively debates were with Judah — but they’d always end up laughing before the argument was over. Part of her began to regret the hasty rejection she made of him, but she never brought it up. Not in fear that it would ruin anything, however — she knew really nothing could tear apart the group. They were together forever. Right?

IC ( 3 )

Columbia was her ultimate choice, and where she ended up graduating from, but Summer fielded three Ivy league acceptances, and one waitlist. She doesn’t talk about that one as much. She’d always loved the city she was born in, and even though Judah and his love were also traipsing around New York in their college years, Summer began to shy away from anything that had to do with high school. And desperate attempts to reconnect with her went only vaguely answered. Sorry, I’ve been super busy lately. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you! Love you. Let’s get coffee soon? Over and over and over. Eventually, you just have to stop trying.

But not Judah. She hadn’t seen him in three years by the time she finally texted him with a legitimate offer to meet up, and they reminisce over that famed cup of coffee. It happened only a second time, before she ditched the East Coast altogether. The last anyone heard from her, which was a postcard each when she finally reached California. Wish You Were Here! it read, in looping font between the palm trees. But really, she didn’t. She’d finally cracked under the pressure she put herself under, and dropped out of graduate school, going full no contact with her friends from there, just as she had with the Rat Pack in years prior. She took a position at a teensy bed and breakfast in a no-name beach town — room and board supplied to her. She was embarrassed, ashamed, lonely — a string of noncommittal significant others left her desperate for an opportunity to reconnect with someone, anyone. You shouldn’t always wish for what you want, because sometimes: you just might get it. ( A phone call, static as tears filled her eyes. “ You’re not gonna believe this. ” )

[themiddlelayer]

Life at the speed of light

Fucking growing pains! I keep realizing that I’m stronger and more capable of growth than I imagined... but it hurts like hell and I’m struggling with feeling so much pain and so much joy at all once. And I don’t want to do to Java Bear what Nomad did with me. Nomad was amazing. We were amazing together. But his issues with Gypsy were bigger than the joy... bigger than our love.. and ultimately I was left. Not by just one, but by all. I don’t want my grief and pain to overtake all the awesome in Phoenix. I don’t ever want anyone to feel like I’ve felt the last few months. 

MM had plans to go to a meet and greet thing with a poly group with on Friday night. It had been on the calendar and he had told me about it. He also told me that the chick from our game night who I shall dub “Pixie” was going to be at that event. She had also RSVP’d for an event tonight and they had plans to have coffee later this week. 

It wasn’t that he was going out, but it was how he behaved when he was on the way out that set me off. I was stuck working late and just ready to fall over when he knocked on my office door to say he was leaving. We have been in the hello and goodbye kisses place. Kisses, not kissing... but a familiar gesture that we both feel safe with. Friday night he just cracked the door and poked his head in. I could see what he was wearing and smell his cologne. It felt like he was hiding how good he looked and running out the door before I could react. 

It also felt exactly like how ExH acted when he made plans to go out and didn’t want me to come with. He would make plans sometime during the week and be all sketchy with me for days, then on Friday night he would come home from work and go straight to the shower only telling me that he was going out as he was getting dressed. ExH was literally going out and acting single when he did that. Double whammy! 

Oh, and when we talked about it tonight, MM said that he was wearing a shirt that was Gypsy’s favorite and he was feeling weird about it. It was his stuff but, yeah.. salt the wound and bring her up again! Asshat! 

I had more work that I was supposed to finish before leaving for the night but I shifted into the ‘fuck this and fuck him’ place after a crying jag. I saw the gazelle that I’d asked MM to craigslist around Thanksgiving sitting in my office and got angry. I picked it up and walked it across the house to his room where I threw it across his bed then put a sticky note that just said craigslist ? on it.

Java Bear and Olive (formerly Ginger Bear) had both asked me about coming up Friday after work instead of waiting until Saturday morning but I didn’t think I’d have the energy. My anger gave me the second wind I needed to pack and get on the road. 

I got to the house about 5 minutes before Java Bear got home and we surprised Olive walking in together. She just squee’d and said, “I knew it!” because Java Bear had told her that they were going out so she would be dressed when I arrived. 

We were up until after 2am just cuddled up on the couch hanging out and talking before we curled up in bed together. Now, I’ve gotten much smaller recently but Java Bear and Olive are not small people. She is a full-bodied woman in the 225 lb ballpark at 5′6″ and while Java Bear is 6′4″ and down over 100 lbs from his max weight of 450lbs-ish, but he’s a big guy.(Which I’ve always had a thing for!)  The 3 of us in a queen sized bed was... crowded in the best possible way. But after tossing and turning for a bit, Java Bear got up and went to the couch for a bit. 

It was 5am-ish when he came back to bed then the alarm starting going off. They had planned an IKEA trip and wanted to get an early start. Even then, it was almost 9am before we left, partially caffeinated and running on next to no sleep. 

Let me tell you, if you want to get to know a couple go to IKEA with them! I got to see how they communicated, negotiated and worked through a part of something that can cause full-blown explosions in established relationships: new home ownership. Even when one or the other got frustrated and running on barely a nap’s worth of sleep they communicated well and kept things loving and patient between the two of them. 

Java Bear was supposed to pick up Olive’s kiddo after we unloaded the IKEA haul but it turned out that he was sick. This added to the frustration because of the potential cost of a doctor’s visit and/or missed work if Java Bear or Olive were to get sick. Strep throat and scarlet fever had been going around his classroom and Java Bear has not been at his new job long enough to have any sick time accrued. In the end, Olive’s mom kept her kiddo for the night to avoid potentially getting us sick. 

We unloaded all $500+ worth of house stuff then Olive and I did the grocery shopping for dinner. It was a lot of just doing the life stuff together and I had the biggest smile on my face the whole time. 

Icing on that cake- when we got home Java Bear had been moving furniture out of the garage and upstairs. I totally have a thing for sweaty men doing manual labor and he knows it. Before he started dinner he took it to the next level. He put on his kilt and chopped wood for the fireplace! 

Olive ended up helping him in the kitchen while I just vegged out on the couch. They made shrimp and mushrooms over zoodles, roasted beets, and roasted purple cauliflower and kale. It was an amazing meal that we ate together on the couch while watching all of season 1 of “Adam Ruins Everything.” 

At some point during the day/evening together, Java Bear said that he knows things are moving really fast but that he sees a future with the 3 of us doing the life thing together... serious life stuff involving handfasting and child rearing. Olive agreed and he said that if he can have me in his life that he will be closed to other female partners. Now, Java Bear is very much Mr. Poly with some swinging and an early history of being, as he called it, a manwhore. And there he was talking about a polyfidelitous situation. Big stuff! 

They know where I’m at with grieving over MM and Nomad and that I’m trying to keep my head on straight and they have been nothing less than awesome about it all. They both kept checking in about physical affection and talking plans to be sure they weren’t pushing or pressuring me. These are among the reasons that I’ve been so interested in Java Bear from the beginning. 

Olive is equally awesome but the whole ‘sex with a woman’ thing is something I haven’t really done in a long time and I’ve never actually dated another woman. The MFF threesomes I had earlier in life were not always experiences I wanted so that’s been a touchy topic to a point. It’s an odd place because I don’t want Olive to think that she’s pressuring me or that I’m rejecting her in any way but at the same time, it’s going to be a much slower process there and I really need to clearly communicate that to her. 

Olive had to be up for work early in the morning and after she went to bed, Java Bear and I enjoyed some time alone on the couch. We had all the ‘health and safety’ talks even before I came up but I didn’t want our first time together to be with Olive in the house. It didn’t feel right given how smitten she is with me and that I’m not ready to get sexual with her, so we kept most of our clothes on and eventually curled up in bed with Olive. After she left for work we both got some really good sleep. 

Now, I had established even before coming up for the weekend that fluid bonding is a ‘next level’ kind of commitment to me and despite knowing our STI statuses and who’s been with whom, I hadn’t planned on going there. We both had condoms but the more worked up we got this morning the less I wanted to be a good adult. It was more about me making clear that I wasn’t ready for that ‘next level’ with him/them than health and safety so my toddler and grown-up brains came to a compromise. I told Java Bear that I was saying ‘yes’ to giving him the full ‘green light’ without a condom but that I couldn’t say ‘yes’ to US until I had a chance to go home and really process it all. 

It was an awesome morning/early afternoon. 

So, on Saturday morning MM had been messaging me about where we were with having other people in the house while the other wasn’t there. Initially I’d asked that he not have anyone in the house whether or not I was there because I was worried that if I gave him the green light that there might be random hook-ups in my house that I’d have to deal with. Plus, the dogs sleep in his room so he keeps his door open... AND the back door is right next to his door. Just not cool but I told him on Saturday that while I was gone it was “whatever.” 

I knew in the pit of my stomach that he wasn’t asking in theory. Tonight when he got home from the BBQ at Cookie’s we talked. He told me that he and Pixie ended up coming back to our house Friday night. I didn’t ask for details but they are really into each other. She has her husband as well as a boyfriend who she’s been with for a year and now she and MM are “seeing each other plus” which is just a half step below boyfriend/girlfriend to them. 

This was all during the playoff game that caused him to be late for their date. There was a lot of crying but it still comes down to the fact that we want each other to be happy and we want to maintain our life together the best we can. We talked money and logistics and made agreements regarding how things will be when we bring a partner to the house. For now, the agreement is that we won’t have any sexual activity while the other is home but that Java Bear sleeping over was fine this weekend. He understands that him bringing Pixie here while I’m here will be hard for me and I asked him to relay to her that it’s not personal but that this is a hard transition. I don’t know when/if he will ask about her coming over but I’m totally dreading it. 

I’m absolutely exhausted right now and my brownie didn’t fix the pain I enjoyed earning with Java Bear this morning. I just messaged him about the agreement that MM and I came to with regards to having other partners in the house and I’m waiting for him to reply. He may come up after work on Friday night but MM isn’t planning on leaving until later Saturday. I know that sex isn’t the primary reason for him to come down but I also know that behaving ourselves will be a challenge. 

Everything is so intense and so complicated in so many ways, but in other ways it’s really falling into place. I need more energy and hope I can start sleeping at night again soon. 

This is the intention card that Java Bear pulled after I left this afternoon and it speaks volumes: 

[chuckling-chemist]

You Make It Feel Like 12th Perigee (14/14)

((Alright, and of those that were both planned and written, this is the last one! I’m gonna do one more at least on Saturday, but I have to wait for the King/Queen announcements for that one obviously, and while it’s gonna get counted offically as an extra, that’s only because it’s not getting written at the same times as these. Like I said before, if these actually get some traction I might write up some of the other extra scenes I cut to preserve my sanity. Much like the last piece too, this one’s song is very obvious. It’s a cover version of Something, originally by the Beatles. The specific one I mentioned is closer to Frank Sinatra’s cover, but not exactly. I took some liberties.

And for the final time: if you are not okay with unhealthy relationships, this is not the ficlet for you.))

Careen closed her eyes, letting her head rest upon the chest of her matesprit. What could she say about this night that hundreds of other trolls, be they esteemed singers or romantic poets of old, hadn’t already said better? She had her pitfalls, certainly. Her matesprit’s other friends, boorish landdwellers that they are, had a peculiar habit of causing problems anytime the two were together and encouraged him to act out for no good reason. The blueblood from earlier, the lovely and dutiful Skasol, left after the fight, citing a need to return to his own partner for the night. Careen assumed such was an easy way to escape from an uncomfortable situation without losing too much shame. Not that she needed him, anyway. When her matesprit returned from cooling off his degenerate of a moirail, he remained by her side as a good matesprit ought to. The only hiccup to an otherwise perfect night, and one she managed to resolve peacefully with him through being so generous as to spend some extra time with the rustblood.

On second thought, there was one more. She probably shouldn’t invite Siroet to come out with her next sweep. If nothing else, get her set up on a blind date to keep her wrangled in. Her friend was unfortunately incapable of stopping herself from inspiring black infidelity in scores. Which Careen would have less of an issue with if said (usually lowblood) partners weren’t also coming up to Careen and forcing her to explain that’s just how Siroet is and they shouldn’t think anything of it. While not one large issue, it was certainly several small issues that amounted to a consistent thorn in her side. Still better than the downer attitude Pothos put up, but not exactly by much.

And the music, despite the orchestra being less an orchestra and more a backing band for guest singers to appease the landdwellers, was still divine. Granted, Careen missed most of the earlier acts while she rested in the VIP room, but she couldn’t find a single flaw in their current musician: a sharp dressed tealblood in a black trilby crooning a gorgeous song about his matesprit. He kept the song slow, at a perfect tempo she could just curl up around her darling matesprit and just forget the world. Nothing fast. No blaring trumpets or honking saxophones to rip her out of her trance when a chorus of string instruments can sound so much more appropriate for this event. As it should be.

The only way such could be more flawless would be if he serenaded her while they danced. Maybe he was, just too quiet for her to hear over the singer? She hoped so. He might be on the shy side, but Careen knew he had that spark for romanticism. It’s part of why she wanted him so desperately after meeting him: he was so close to being an ideal prince for her, he only needed that push. Let go of all his lesser qualities to mold himself the way she wanted: the same way she managed to with Atenic and failed with awful little snake.

Plus Careen had to admit, she was a sucker for a fixer-upper.

Careen’s eyes fluttered open for a minute to gaze lovingly back up at her matesprit. His own eyes were closed, and his lips tightly shut. So he wasn’t singing. That's fine too, she supposed. Disappointing certainly, but….fine.

“Darling, can you sing?”

His eyes shot open to look at her quizzically. “Careen we have talked about this,” he said quietly.

She curled up further into his chest. “And what was the answer?”

“I ah...well, I cannot. Not well, at any rate.” He smiled sheepishly. “Unless one includes an ability to talk-sing? If so, I am adequate.”

“No, I don't,” she sighed. This is what she got for taking him as a quadrant long before he was ready. Almost five sweeps and he still couldn't sing? Every seadweller could sing in some capacity. The arts were always massively important, and no self-respecting noble ignored it.

But Careen was also patient, and considering how considerate he was tonight, she'd bring it up another day. For tonight, she simply rested her head back on his bony chest and made a mental note to talk to him later about it.

“You’re asking me, if my love grows. I say, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

She could hear the waver in the singer’s voice. Cover or not (Careen hadn’t bothered to commit whatever drabble he introduced his set with, but she thought he said his only performances would be covers), he had a matesprit whom he adored the same way she did her own. There was no other answer. One they must have anticipated as well, if the slowing instruments and break in vocals was any indication. She understood enough about the ins and outs of performance to know how likely that was.

He gave Careen the window for a slow release and twirl for the tempo change, one which she graciously accepted. There was no better way for them to properly slow down, no better way to truly showcase the sheer, sparkling overlay to her red velvet dress than letting her spin underneath the twinkling 12th Perigee lights around them. Or if there were, the host of the ball hadn’t thought of it. A pity, but to be expected. She can’t anticipate a landdwelling troll of any kind to have the same level of foresight she does, delusions of seadwelling grandeur or not.

Speaking of the host, shouldn’t the submissions for king and queen be in yet? She thought last sweep there had been some sort of announcement for submissions and votes. Yet tonight, she hadn’t heard anything. Not that Careen particularly cared for submitting herself, of course. She was kind enough to let some other troll feel like royalty for a single dance and prance around in an oversized, wiggler-worthy crown for the rest of the night. And her matesprit? Ignoring how such titles were largely won through popularity than anything else, and her matesprit’s refusal to socialize with those to gain the recognition necessary, he wasn’t exactly ball king material. Careen had done her research. The winners were celebrities. Charming. Artistic. Popular. All things he wasn’t, no matter how much she tried to change that. Thankfully for her, his asocial tendencies discouraged him from ultimately disappointing himself. No worrying he’d take losing personally and mope about for the rest of the night.

Then again, maybe he did care. Careen’s almost certain she had caught his eyes glance over toward one of the far tables, all the way in the back of the room away from the rest of the event, for notes. Her matesprit surprised her like that sometimes, cared about ideas and concepts that she’d never expect someone like him to care much about. He already expressed interest in dancing with another troll once, tonight. That only set up the beginning of what may be a worrying trend. Plus, she failed to see the point in not asking. It would be good to discourage him from making such an awful decision that could ruin tomorrow night.

“Dearie, I have a question.” She paused, and with a shake of her head added, “actually...two.”

Her matesprit slowed their dancing down again, letting the two of them talk easier. “Hm?”

“Do you know when they’ll announce the vote?” She dropped her face to the floor to better look up at him with her winning doe-eyes. “I’m afraid I forgot.”

“Ah...erm…” he blinked harshly in confusion as he trailed off uncertainty. “No? Afraid I hardly know what you are talking about, quite frankly.”

Here it was. The moment of truth. No going back from this question. “So...you don’t want to be the Ball King?”

The fingers that loosely kept hold of Careen tapped against her own skin. “The...the what?”

“Oh you know,” she said, freeing up a hand just long enough to push her hair back behind her fin, “the 12th Perigee Ball King and Queen. They had it last sweep. I’ve just noticed you eyeing the box at points in the night.”

“I was...I was eyeing it?” He sounded confused. Careen knew better. She knew he was trying to hide his interest.

“Well...yes.” She sighed. “If you really, truly want to nominate yourself, I suppose you can, but really I must advise against--”

She was interrupted by a sigh. “Careen, I assure you, if my lack of memory does not give it away, I am not one for schmoozing and politicking to win a dance with a total stranger.”

She had to resist letting out a huff. So he wasn’t interested in the nominations. That’s fine, too, she supposed. He couldn’t have sounded more rude toward her attempt at being helpful, but it was fine.

And anyway, she wasn’t interested in the Ball nominations to nominate him. Not even to nominate her friends. She only wanted to cast her vote she truly felt deserved it. Unlike last sweep, with the bottom of the bottom winning. Had they worked for it? Really worked? Impossible. Lowbloods didn’t work the way any other blood color did. They lacked the strength.

“Something in the way she knows, and all I have to do is think of her.”

Her matesprit sped back up to match with the song. She let her arms slide down, around the bottom of his waist. She felt him tense in surprise underneath the coarse tweed of his suit.

Careen frowned deeply, fins drooping. “It’s just me. No reason to freak out.”

He looked down at her with a confused expression. “I ah…my apologies.” He shook his head. “I erm...was un-unaware…”

“It’s fine, darling. It doesn’t upset me in the slightest. That being said,” her hands wandered down to his rear to rest. No grabbing. Not yet. But the night was young. “A healthy dose of fear is completely normal in our society, don’t you think?”

Her matesprit hummed. Not an answer, not really, but Careen loved the feelings of the sweet, soft vibrations the noise sent up her fins and down her spine. Moreso, anyway, than whenever he spoke with that posh voice of his. Not that she disliked it when he spoke of course. In fact, she very much loved hearing it when she wanted to. So long as the two weren’t physically close, she even preferred just hearing his voice. Undoubtedly, it was Careen’s favorite thing about him.

And even more than that, she loved the intimate silence that followed. The singer’s crooning quieted down to little more than a whisper into the microphone. The band played a few more bars, but they too needed to end the song eventually. Her matesprit gave her a final twirl and parted, bowing.

“Perfect gentleman as always, Dontoc,” she cooed.

He answered not with words, but with a smile. It looked somewhat forced, but that was okay. It was her night, after all, not his. He was here with her now, treating her just like the princess she actually was. A dutiful matesprit. Exactly what Careen, the rightful Heiress, always deserved.

[daresplaining]

Luke Cage Countdown: 5 Days

Bushmaster

    In addition to bringing back excellent antagonists from Season 1, we are getting a few exciting additions this season. The primary new villain Luke will be facing is Bushmaster-- who has a longtime connection to Luke and friends in the comics, and looks absolutely amazing in the show. 

    Bushmaster (John McIver) was introduced in the pages of Iron Fist volume 1. At that point he was new on the scene-- a European mobster (he would later become Caribbean, because... eh, Marvel continuity). He grew up poor, but over time achieved wealth and power as a criminal, and is now aiming to extend his influence across the Atlantic. While Misty Knight is no longer on the NYPD, she still has close ties to them via her former partner Rafael Scarfe. When D.A. Tower needs someone to do the dangerous work of infiltrating Bushmaster’s base of operations, he calls in Misty. 

Tower: “...His name is John Bushmaster, and that’s about all we know about him. Except that over the past few years, he’s taken absolute control of the European mobs. Intelligence says that he plans to expand his activities to the United States, starting in New York. Interpol, the FBI-- even the CIA-- have tried to infiltrate his organization, without success. Now it’s our turn.”

Scarfe: “Tell it all, counselor! Every agent who was sent in came out dead. If Bushmaster sees through Misty’s cover--”

Misty: “I can take care of myself, Rafe.”

Iron Fist vol. 1 #15 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, and B. Patterson

    Misty accepts the job, and takes up residence on Bushmaster’s yacht under the alias Maya Korday. Bushmaster is a classy criminal, who quickly becomes popular within New York’s high society, despite his shady dealings. For several months Misty remains undercover, earning his trust, and eventually-- to her disgust-- going so far as to start up a romantic relationship with him. However, she prematurely jumps ship when she discovers that Bushmaster has placed a hit on Iron Fist. She breaks cover, beats the snot out of Bushmaster, and runs to save her (at that point) future boyfriend.   

Bushmaster: “Wha--?! Maya! Have you gone mad?!”

Misty: “Not the way you mean, pal-- but if I get mad, you’re gonna get very dead. [...] Where’s the ‘hit’ planned for? And when?”

Marvel Team-Up vol. 1 #63 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, and Dave Hunt

    Misty escapes, but Bushmaster is furious about being duped, and vows to have his revenge. He discovers her real identity, and goes shopping for a suitable candidate to capture her. 

    He sets his sights on Power Man, Hero for Hire. Luke has gained a serious reputation by this point as a man who gets things done, and his strength and invulnerability make him an attractive pawn for Bushmaster. But he’s also a good guy, so Bushmaster knows he’ll need extra motivation to convince Luke to commit a kidnapping. He summons Luke to his house in Chicago, and presents him with an ultimatum. 

Luke: “I heard o’ you on the street, man. You’re the European brother been given’ the Maggia so much grief-- wipin’ them out so you can take over. You got the wrong man, Bushmaster. I’m a Hero for Hire.” 

Bushmaster: “And I am most definitely a villain. Nevertheless, Cage, you will do this job for me. Because, you see, Claire Temple and Noah Burstein are my... ‘guests’. And if you turn me down... I’ll have no alternative but to order my men to kill them.”

Power Man #49 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, F, Mouly, et al.

    He also offers Luke a carrot in addition to the stick-- a videotape proving that Luke was innocent of the crime for which he was imprisoned. Claire and Burstein are two of the most important people in Luke’s life at this point, and he is desperate to escape his status as a criminal. As bad as he feels about the whole thing, he doesn’t have any emotional connection to Misty, and so he agrees to deliver her to Bushmaster to save the lives of his loved ones. 

    Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), things don’t go to plan. Luke’s attempt to kidnap Misty flings him right into the path of her loved ones: Danny Rand and Colleen Wing. A massive fight ensues, and Luke nearly commits murder several times over before realizing that he can’t go through with this. Danny, Misty, and Colleen have heard of Power Man’s good reputation, realize something is wrong, and offer to help him. Together, they infiltrate Bushmaster’s base to rescue Claire and Burstein-- only to make a horrifying discovery. In the short time between their encounters, Bushmaster has convinced Burstein to replicate the procedure that gave Luke his powers. When Luke encounters Bushmaster again, he finds himself facing someone who is physically his equal, if not his superior. 

Bushmaster: “You’re a fool, Cage! I am the ultimate product of Burstein’s experiments. In all respects, my power dwarfs yours! You can no more stand against me than against a tidal wave!”

Luke: “The man may have a point there. For each shot I give him, I get two back-- with interest. At most, I’m annoyin’ him. He’s hurtin’ me.”

Power Man #49 by Chris Claremont, John Byrne, F, Mouly, et al.

    The fight ends in an explosion, allowing Luke and friends to escape with the hostages and the tape-- which Danny’s lawyer Jeryn Hogarth later uses to prove Luke’s innocence in court. Bushmaster vanishes, and everyone foolishly assumes he’s gone for good...

    Eighteen issues later, the Heroes for Hire are doing a routine job, beating up some bank robbers, when they both get knocked out by sleeping gas. When Danny wakes up, Luke is gone. After a long, desperate investigation, Danny makes a shocking discovery about the bank that was being robbed. 

Danny: “Heart of the dragon! [...] This letterhead stationary... the second name on the bank’s board of directors...”

Jennie: “John Bushmaster, the Caribbean financier. Do you know him?”

Danny: “You bet I do! He’s the man who brought Luke and me together... and very nearly destroyed us both.”

Power Man and Iron Fist vol. 1 # 67 by Mary Jo Duffy, Kerry Gammill, and Ben Sean

   Realizing the whole thing was a setup, Danny hunts down and sneaks into Bushmaster’s new base of operations. There, he finds Luke, Noah Burstein, and a Bushmaster who is rapidly dying. The procedure that gave him powers didn’t work quite as well as it did for Luke, and has caused his whole body to atrophy. He demands that Burstein use Luke as a guinea pig to figure out a way to reverse the process, or kill him trying, and has kidnapped Burstein’s wife to provide extra motivation. Danny bursts in and rescues Luke, just as Bushmaster turns to metal. 

Danny: “I... don’t understand.”

Burstein: “Bushmaster’s become a creature of metal... like a statue! I don’t know if he’s even alive!”

Power Man and Iron Fist vol. 1 # 67 by Mary Jo Duffy, Kerry Gammill, and Ben Sean

    And that, again, could have been the end of him... but this is a superhero comic, and such things are almost never permanent. Years later, after Danny’s “death”, Luke moves to Chicago and starts over as a solo act. There, he encounters a villain named Hardcore-- a super-smart, super-skilled combatant who sets about ruining Luke’s life. He also co-runs a crooked prison in Colorado, which-- with the help of a kidnapped Noah Burstein (the poor guy goes through this a lot...)-- facilitates experiments in an attempt to perfect the Power Man procedure. It turns out that Hardcore works for Bushmaster’s son, Cruz. After months of physical and psychological attacks, Cruz captures Luke and uses him to siphon power into his father’s corpse. Bushmaster lives again...

Burstein: “I can only surmise-- that he’s somehow using the viral aspects of the process-- he’s leeched the power, and the very life, from his son! And somehow, Bushmaster lives!”

Bushmaster: “No. No more. That name is but a pseudonym, a useless label for a past life. Now-- call me Power Master!”

Cage vol. 1 #12 by Marc McLaurin, Dwayne Turner, and Kris Renkewitz

...before absorbing too much power and exploding. This, amazingly enough, actually does kill him for good. 

    All of the glimpses we have so far of the MCU’s Bushmaster suggest that he will be infinitely cooler in this universe than he is in the comics. Every shot we’ve seen of him so far looks amazing. We know that he is a crime boss in some form, and will be battling Mariah for control of Harlem. We know that he will have Luke’s powers, but are curious whether he’ll receive him the same way. The final scene in Luke Cage Season 1 showed Burstein working on Diamondback, so we know that he’s still out there doing his thing. Maybe he’ll end up getting kidnapped by Bushmaster in this universe too. After all, it’s a tradition! 

    Cheo Hodari Coker has also mentioned in interviews that Bushmaster’s nationality will play a big role in the story. In this universe he is Jamaican, and so Jamaican culture will be explored in this season in much the same way that Harlem’s was last season. This should add an interesting extra layer to his character, and we’re eager to see how this is integrated into the show’s already rich cultural landscape. 

    And we know that unlike in the comics, MCU Bushmaster has some serious martial arts (capoeira, specifically) training. 

    This combined with his powers should make him great fun to watch, and a serious threat to the other characters in the show. We can’t wait to see more of him. 

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Move Together

Hey friends! Here’s Part VII for the Chaos and the Calm series. The singer whose work this is based on, James Bay, actually has a new album, Electric Light, out on Friday- I highly suggest you all take a listen when you get the chance! Please don’t forget to reblog if you liked it, helps more people get exposed to the stories we love! I’m also so excited when people talk to me, give me feedback and suggestions and any kind of conversation, so please feel free to pop into my inbox! Thanks again to @harrystylesgotmeknockedup for being my resource for all things British!

Masterlist

Move Together

November 2019

Home now, end of the night/It's colder to turn on your side/And I know you're up in two hours/But we didn't get tonight/We don't have tomorrow/So don't ruin now

Hearing the click of the front door, indicating that Harry was finally home, Alex sat up slightly, rubbing her eyes and looking to her watch for the time. 2:41. As much as she had genuinely loved getting to tour Europe with Harry, and thankful that her firm had granted her the ability to work remotely, she was grateful to be back in her own bed.

Tour, for the most part, had been a series of give and takes, of compromises and sacrifices that had to be made. She got to visit cities she never would have gotten the chance to— Prague in particular was breathtaking, and she made a chuffed Harry promise to bring her back one day— but seldom stayed in any place for more than two or three days. She got to be with her boyfriend and make some amazing friends in the band and crew, but they were all living out of suitcases in unfamiliar hotels and tour buses. She got to fly first class for only the second time in her life— Harry insisted on ‘nothing but the best’ for their flight to Los Angeles for the Grammys earlier that year— but she had to adjust to the presence of sometimes hundreds of fans at airports, hotels, and radio stations. Who, for some reason, seemed to be interested in talking to her. She didn’t quite understand why anyone would want a photo with her, but was nevertheless more than happy to snap one if there was time.

But the moments that made all the bad times so, so worth it were the ones that she got to spend with Harry, watching him onstage. Watching him do what he loved filled her with a kind of joy so all-consuming and unimaginable she couldn’t even begin to describe it. Whether he was performing a song he about her or not, there was no place Alex would rather be than in the wings of the stage, playing the part of ‘proud girlfriend.’ She had told him at the start of tour that she wanted to go into the pit to watch the show, feeling like the experience of watching from backstage would be something of a half-truth, and Harry had yielded after a few minutes of pestering. “Just don’t want yeh getting hurt, love,” he had said. “Harry. They’re your fans. They’re not going to hurt me,” she had countered. So for the first five shows, she had slipped into the front just before the show, but her plans were faulted when, one night, a particular Italian crowd had gotten a little too boisterous during Kiwi and had jostled her too much for comfort, well, Harry’s comfort, that was. Alex insisted she was fine, but Harry put his foot down, and from then on, her place had been with the crew behind the scenes. She missed getting to interact with fans and experience the concert the same way they did, but was able to spend time with people she otherwise didn’t connect with. In fact, more than one concert she had spent in the lighting booth; as an artist herself, she was enthralled with the design and intricacy of the whole production, and was even allowed to help out with the lights for the last show.

So, even with seemingly endless drawbacks, the experience was one she wouldn’t change for the world. Interrupting her thoughts, Harry walked in just then, grimacing when he saw that Alex had woken up to greet him. “Why are yeh still up, Lex?” He asked, clearly tired himself.

“Wanted to see you when you got home,” she responded. “Didn’t realize it would be so late.”

He sighed. “Me either, love.” He had finished the European leg and had a few weeks to go before he left for a three-week stint in Asia and Australia, but had been roped into sticking around the studio to work on some new material that he and a few co-writers had been tossing around. It also wasn’t that he wanted to stay away from Alex. He’d get caught up in writing a song, or fiddling with the mixing, or recording harmonies, then look at his watch and realize it was past midnight. Being away from Alex was the last thing he wanted, especially now that they were living together. They both knew all the problems that could crop up with sharing a space with someone, and it would do neither good if Harry wasn’t there half the time to work out their inevitable issues. He knew that he should be better, tell the guys he was sorry, but needed to get home to his girl, but a tiny part of him— and he hated himself for it— wished Alex would just drop it. It was his job, and she had said a million times that she knew what she was getting into with their relationship. “Give me ten minutes to get in bed, yeah?”

Alex nodded, but Harry could tell there was more she wanted to say but was holding back. For his sake or hers, he wasn’t sure. Harry went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and stripped down to his boxers, crawling into bed behind Alex. It only took seven minutes. She knew that he wasn’t trying to be distant, that it wasn’t entirely his choice to stay so late and spend so little time with her, but that didn’t take away the fact that his absence was causing a wedge to drive in between them.

“I’ve got to get up at six for work,” Alex said softly, more to herself than anything. Harry felt a pang shoot to his chest. He had promised her that he would be careful with her, careful with her heart, and he was breaking that promise. “Is it— is it always going to be like this?” She continued. “I mean, it obviously was pretty much a non-issue when I lived in Brooklyn, but now that you’ve got someone to come home to, someone physically sharing your life, I’ve got to ask.”

“Is it always going to be what, love?” Harry asked. Stupid of him to ask, he already knew the answer but somehow felt that it would be better for whatever reason if he spared himself the emotional pain of having to address it himself.

“Is it always going to be late nights, seeing you for a few hours when we’re in bed, hurried phone calls and cancelled dinner plans?”

He winced. They had planned a dinner a few weeks after their return from Europe; they wanted to officially celebrate moving in together. Harry had booked a table at an Indian place a few blocks away that they both loved and Alex had bought a new dress. He was meant to meet her at the apartment at seven for them to walk over for their seven thirty reservation, but the time had come and gone and he hadn’t shown. She had hated having to call the restaurant and cancel their reservations, and it was clear that the woman on the other end of the phone knew that something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t pry.

Alex wasn’t the type of person to really hold grudges, malice wasn’t something she was too fond of. So she told Harry she forgave him, she told him she understood, but in reality she was hurt.

How we gonna move together?/Just come closer/If we don't move together, just come closer/How we gonna breathe?/How we gonna be together?/Just keeping the peace/Between the sheets

“That’s not what I want it to be, love. I’m sorry that it’s been that way for the best few weeks. It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to me, and it needs to change.” Harry said. Alex nodded, moving closer and leaning her head up against his back. He felt her hand moving up and down his back, as if she was trying to will away his worries, and Harry wished that he could stay in that moment forever.

Being in a relationship with someone who was willing to admit their mistakes, who wasn’t too proud to compromise, was a concept so new and almost foreign to Alex that she didn’t really know how to deal with it. It was true that she had never been in love with anyone like she was with Harry, but she had had her fair share of relationships before. Most were brief, shallow flings, but there were a few in university that she was genuinely invested in, that she could see moving beyond superficiality. Peter was everything she thought she wanted: intelligent, creative, curious, and really freaking attractive. But his downfall, and what made them ultimately fall apart, was how stubborn he was. Communication was never the couple’s strong suit, and whenever Alex would try to bring it up and tell him that they needed to work on it, he seemed to refuse to believe that there was a problem. Blinking a few times, Alex tried to get the thoughts of him out of her head. Peter was old news, someone so far gone from her life, and she had no good reason to dwell on what was a non-issue. A non-issue because of the wonderful, caring man she was laying beside. “We can’t keep pushing this off. It does need to change. But how?” She asked.

Harry rolled over in bed, facing Alex. “We need somethin’ concrete, an agreement that we’re both going to stick to, but something that’s practical, you know? ‘S much as I want to, I can’t promise that I’ll always be back home early  or that I’ll always be able to stick to schedule.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to promise that,” Alex said. “I want you through the thick and thin; I knew what I was signing up for, no matter how much I might try to tell myself otherwise.” She paused for a moment. “How about two or three times a month, we just commit to getting out of the house and doing something together? Doesn’t have to only be dinner, we could go to a movie, breakfast, walk around Central Park…” She trailed off.

Harry gave a soft smile. “That sounds great, love. And how about I call you if I’ll be staying at the studio past ten or so? I don’t really want you waiting up for me, but I know nothing I say will really be able to stop you if you want to, you’re stubborn as they come,” he said with a chuckle.

So maybe don't give me cold, cold shoulder/Before you go, turn around, let me hold you/And let me stay in the dark of the morning/Just more one thing

Alex hovered her hand by Harry’s cheek, and he could tell, not for the first time that night, that she was holding back something to say. “Out wit’ it, love,” he said gently, causing Alex to crack a brief smile.

“I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“Nope,” Harry said. “And yeh shouldn’t have to. Now what’s on your mind?”

Alex took a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Don’t you think it’s about time we tell everyone about us? You know, proper go public?”

His brow furrowed. “I thought we were? I mean, I called you my girlfriend at the Grammy’s, didn’t I?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and I’m totally not trying to imply that you’re not paying enough attention to me or trying to be needy in any way, you’re amazing and I love everything that you’re doing already—”

“Calm down, love,” Harry said, stroking his thumb over one of her shoulders. “I know I haven’t been as public with us as I could have been, but I think I thought that’s what yeh wanted, to be out of the spotlight?”

“And that’s still true,” Alex started. “I think, though, that I’d be fine being a little more open, though, you know? Pictures and stuff, and you can talk about us in interviews if it’s brought up, I guess?”

He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. Slapping his forehead none-too-lightly with the palm of her hand, Alex struggled to keep in her laughter. “Not like that, you chav! I trust you—” she took a quick look at him, “mostly— to keep private what ought to be private.”

“Of course, love.” For Harry, he would have been just as willing to go public with their relationship from the first day on. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to shout to the world how lucky he was, how in love he was with Alexandra Diana Jones. But he knew that wasn’t what was best for them at the beginning, that it wasn’t what they needed. They needed time to themselves, time to establish a relationship and norms and everything else they needed to give their relationship the best possible shot at working out. And Harry was a man of his word; his mum had never taught him to be anything other than honest, kind, and respectful. So when he told Alex that things would move at her pace and their relationship would only go as fast as she was comfortable with, he meant it with every fiber of his being. Needless to say, then, when Alex gave him the go-ahead, he was nothing short of over the moon.

For Alex, the decision was one that had been a long time in the making. She didn’t want Harry to feel as though she was suffocating him with all of her rules; she found herself more often than not questioning the validity of her requests, constantly second-guessing herself and deciding that she had made the wrong decision. It wasn’t a matter of her wanting to be hidden from the world; she had known as soon as One Direction had made it onto X-Factor that anytime she was linked with Harry would be far from normal, but she needed time. That had been her mantra for the first few months of their relationship, that she just needed more time. She knew that the moment they went public, the second they made their big debut as a couple, that any semblance of normalcy she had previously would be gone. She had seen what it had done to other “celebrity couples,” though she despised the term and found it inaccurate for their circumstances, and selfishly wanted to protect them from that. She wanted to be able to keep Harry to herself, at least for a little while, until they were exposed to the world, bound to be scrutinized and analyzed and picked apart to no end. But now was different. She had had enough time, felt like they had eased into their relationship enough, that she felt she had held off for long enough. She knew that it was inevitable, and most people were probably observant enough to know that they were in a relationship even without explicit confirmation. But there was something comforting about the concrete nature of an affirming tweet or photo on Instagram, as ironic as it may seem.  

“Glad we’ve got that sorted out, yeah?” Harry murmured softly. “What d’you say we finally get to bed? Don’t want you too tired tomorrow morning, mm?”

Alex nodded, snuggling herself closer to Harry, who gladly wrapped his arms around her back, holding her to his chest. “Yeah.”

Alex woke up a few hours later, Harry having gone on an early-morning run and leaving her with a heartfelt good morning post-it and a pot of coffee on the warmer. Opening her phone, she went to check Instagram, seeing a notification for a new tagged picture from Harry. It was a photo of her from that morning, still sleeping, hair sprawled out on the pillow. The caption was simple, but its few words spoke volumes. My love @alexdjones

[giancarlonicoli]

President Jimmy Carter's Farewell Address

January 14, 1981

Good evening.  In a few days, I will lay down my official responsibilities in this office -- to take up once more the only title in our democracy superior to that of president, the title of citizen.

Of Vice President Mondale, my Cabinet and the hundreds of others who have served with me during the last four years, I wish to say publicly what I have said in private: I thank them for the dedication and competence they have brought to the service of our country.

But I owe my deepest thanks to you, the American people, because you gave me this extraordinary opportunity to serve.  We have faced great challenges together.  We know that future problems will also be difficult, but I am now more convinced than ever that the United States -- better than any other nation -- can meet successfully whatever the future might bring.

These last four years have made me more certain than ever of the inner strength of our country -- the unchanging value of our principles and ideals, the stability of our political system, the ingenuity and the decency of our people.

Tonight I would like first to say a few words about this most special office, the presidency of the United States.

This is at once the most powerful office in the world -- and among the most severely constrained by law and custom.  The president is given a broad responsibility to lead -- but cannot do so without the support and consent of the people, expressed formally through the Congress and informally in many ways through a whole range of public and private institutions.

This is as it should be.  Within our system of government every American has a right and duty to help shape the future course of the United States.

Thoughtful criticism and close scrutiny of all government officials by the press and the public are an important part of our democratic society.  Now as in our past, only the understanding and involvement of the people through full and open debate can help to avoid serious mistakes and assure the continued dignity and safety of the nation.

Today we are asking our political system to do things of which the founding fathers never dreamed.  The government they designed for a few hundred thousand people now serves a nation of almost 230 million people.  Their small coastal republic now spans beyond a continent, and we now have the responsibility to help lead much of the world through difficult times to a secure and prosperous future.

Today, as people have become ever more doubtful of the ability of the government to deal with our problems, we are increasingly drawn to single-issue groups and special interest organizations to ensure that whatever else happens our own personal views and our own private interests are protected.

This is a disturbing factor in American political life.  It tends to distort our purposes because the national interest is not always the sum of all our single or special interests.  We are all Americans together -- and we must not forget that the common good is our common interest and our individual responsibility.

Because of the fragmented pressures of special interests, it's very important that the office of the president be a strong one, and that its constitutional authority be preserved.  The president is the only elected official charged with the primary responsibility of representing all the people.  In the moments of decision, after the different and conflicting views have been aired, it is the president who then must speak to the nation and for the nation.

I understand after four years in office, as few others can, how formidable is the task the president-elect is about to undertake.  To the very limits of conscience and conviction, I pledge to support him in that task.  I wish him success, and Godspeed.

I know from experience that presidents have to face major issues that are controversial, broad in scope, and which do not arouse the natural support of a political majority.

For a few minutes now, I want to lay aside my role as leader of one nation, and speak to you as a fellow citizen of the world about three issues, three difficult issues: The threat of nuclear destruction, our stewardship of the physical resources of our planet, and the pre-eminence of the basic rights of human beings.

It's now been 35 years since the first atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima.  The great majority of the world's people cannot remember a time when the nuclear shadow did not hang over the earth.  Our minds have adjusted to it, as after a time our eyes adjust to the dark.

Yet the risk of a nuclear conflagration has not lessened.  It has not happened yet, thank God, but that can give us little comfort -- for it only has to happen once.

The danger is becoming greater.  As the arsenals of the superpowers grow in size and sophistication and as other governments acquire these weapons, it may only be a matter of time before madness, desperation, greed or miscalculation lets loose this terrible force.

In an all-out nuclear war, more destructive power than in all of World War II would be unleashed every second during the long afternoon it would take for all the missiles and bombs to fall.  A World War II every second -- more people killed in the first few hours than all the wars of history put together.  The survivors, if any, would live in despair amid the poisoned ruins of a civilization that had committed suicide.

National weakness -- real or perceived -- can tempt aggression and thus cause war.  That's why the United States cannot neglect its military strength.  We must and we will remain strong.  But with equal determination, the United States and all countries must find ways to control and reduce the horrifying danger that is posed by the world's enormous stockpiles of nuclear arms.

This has been a concern of every American president since the moment we first saw what these weapons could do.  Our leaders will require our understanding and our support as they grapple with this difficult but crucial challenge.   There is no disagreement on the goals or the basic approach to controlling this enormous destructive force.  The answer lies not just in the attitudes or actions of world leaders, but in the concern and demands of all of us as we continue our struggle to preserve the peace.

Nuclear weapons are an expression of one side of our human character.  But there is another side.  The same rocket technology that delivers nuclear warheads has also taken us peacefully into space.  From that perspective, we see our Earth as it really is -- a small and fragile and beautiful blue globe, the only home we have.  We see no barriers of race or religion or country.   We see the essential unity of our species and our planet; and with faith and common sense, that bright vision will ultimately prevail.

Another major challenge, therefore, is to protect the quality of this world within which we live.  The shadows that fall across the future are cast not only by the kinds of weapons we have built, but by the kind of world we will either nourish or neglect.

There are real and growing dangers to our simple and most precious possessions: the air we breathe; the water we drink; and the land which sustains us. The rapid depletion of irreplaceable minerals, the erosion of topsoil, the destruction of beauty, the blight of pollution, the demands of increasing billions of people, all combine to create problems which are easy to observe and predict but difficult to resolve.  If we do not act, the world of the year 2000 will be much less able to sustain life than it is now.

But there is no reason for despair.  Acknowledging the physical realities of our planet does not mean a dismal future of endless sacrifice.  In fact, acknowledging these realities is the first step in dealing with them.  We can meet the resource problems of the world -- water, food, minerals, farmlands, forests, overpopulation, pollution -- if we tackle them with courage and foresight.

I have just been talking about forces of potential destruction that mankind has developed, and how we might control them.  It is equally important that we remember the beneficial forces that we have evolved over the ages, and how to hold fast to them.

One of those constructive forces is enhancement of individual human freedoms through the strengthening of democracy, and the fight against deprivation, torture, terrorism and the persecution of people throughout the world.  The struggle for human rights overrides all differences of color, nation or language.

Those who hunger for freedom, who thirst for human dignity, and who suffer for the sake of justice -- they are the patriots of this cause.

I believe with all my heart that America must always stand for these basic human rights -- at home and abroad.  That is both our history and our destiny.

America did not invent human rights.  In a very real sense, it is the other way round.  Human rights invented America.

Ours was the first nation in the history of the world to be founded explicitly on such an idea.  Our social and political progress has been based on one fundamental principle -- the value and importance of the individual.  The fundamental force that unites us is not kinship or place of origin or religious preference.  The love of liberty is a common blood that flows in our American veins.

The battle for human rights -- at home and abroad -- is far from over.  We should never be surprised nor discouraged because the impact of our efforts has had, and will always have, varied results.  Rather, we should take pride that the ideals which gave birth to our nation still inspire the hopes of oppressed people around the world.  We have no cause for self-righteousness or complacency.  But we have every reason to persevere, both within our own country and beyond our borders.

If  we are to serve as a beacon for human rights, we must continue to perfect here at home the rights and values which we espouse around the world: A decent education for our children, adequate medical care for all Americans, an end to discrimination against minorities and women, a job for all those able to work, and freedom from injustice and religious intolerance.

We live in a time of transition, an uneasy era which is likely to endure for the rest of this century.  It will be a period of tensions both within nations and between nations -- of competition for scarce resources, of social political and economic stresses and strains.  During this period we may be tempted to abandon some of the time-honored principles and commitments which have been proven during the difficult times of past generations.

We must never yield to this temptation.  Our American values are not luxuries but necessities -- not the salt in our bread but the bread itself.  Our common vision of a free and just society is our greatest source of cohesion at home and strength abroad -- greater even than the bounty of our material blessings.

Remember these words:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that   all men are created equal; that they are endowed     by their creator with certain inalienable rights;   that among these are life liberty and the pursuit     of happiness."

This vision still grips the imagination of the world.  But we know that democracy is always an unfinished creation.  Each generation must renew its foundations.  Each generation must rediscover the meaning of this hallowed vision in the light of its own modern challenges.  For this generation, ours, life is nuclear survival; liberty is human rights; the pursuit of happiness is a planet whose resources are devoted to the physical and spiritual nourishment of its inhabitants.

During the next few days I will work hard to make sure that the transition from myself to the next president is a good one so that the American people are served well.  And I will continue as I have the last 14 months to work hard and to pray for the lives and the well-being of the American hostages held in Iran.  I can't predict yet what will happen, but I hope you will join me in my constant prayer for their freedom.

As I return home to the South where I was born and raised, I am looking forward to the opportunity to reflect and further to assess -- I hope with accuracy -- the circumstances of our times.  I intend to give our new president my support, and I intend to work as a citizen, as I have worked in this office as president, for the values this nation was founded to secure.

Again, from the bottom of my heart, I want to express to you the gratitude I feel.

Thank you, fellow citizens, and farewell.

[starsandsquids]

Christmas With Difficult People

Merry Christmas have a pair of total Jackasses.

I’m gonna clean this up and use it for a writing class next semester but since it’s almost Christmas I figured I’d post it. Of these Horrible people, Nicky is mine and Xīnyí belongs to the gf

           “Nicky! Are you looking at me?”

           “Sure am.” That was a lie. Nicky Devine was perched in the window seat of his childhood bedroom, looking over a crossword puzzle he’d been fighting since that morning, but his blind boyfriend wouldn’t know the difference.

           “How do I look?”

           “Skanky,” Nicky said without looking up. He didn’t have to, he was the one who’d helped Xīnyí get dressed only a few minutes prior. Nicky’s boyfriend, Xīnyí Chen, was in Nicky’s affectionate words “a major fucking dick,” but so was Lawrence Strauss, and Nicky felt more of a loyalty to the blind asshole whose bed he currently shared than to the man who pretended to be his father. “You’re gonna give my stepdad an aneurism.”

           “Fun! Liven up this American bullshit capitalist dinner!” Xīnyí said.

           “You can’t see it but I’m giving you the side eye,” Nicky said. Xīnyí stuck out his tongue like a petulant child and Nicky sighed loud enough for the eye-roll to be implied. “I thought you were saving your trashy outfit to freak him out on the actual Christmas day?”

           “You say that like I only have one trashy outfit.”

           “How could I assume so incorrectly?” Nicky said dryly. “Are you ready to go downstairs? I have to help my mom start cooking for tomorrow.”

           “Be sure to tell me if he stares,” Xīnyí said, holding his arm out to allow Nicky to lead him down through the unfamiliar home. The sound of Perry Como’s “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays” could be heard even from the second floor, telling Nicky that his mother’s Christmas playlist hadn’t changed at all since he’d left home.

           “Hey you two!” Tilda Devine chirped as soon as she saw them. “Xīnyí, I like your shirt, I didn’t know they made shirts entirely out of mesh. Anyway, Lawrence went out to the grocery store but he should be back soon. Nicky dear, could you come help me with the cookies?”

           “Sure, Mom,” Nicky said.

           “So who’s coming to this thing tomorrow?” Xīnyí asked as Nicky guided him into the kitchen. “It was just the four of us at Thanksgiving.”

           “Nicky’s uncle Todd is coming,” said Tilda.

           “I’ve told you about Todd,” Nicky said. “He was Dad’s brother, taught me how to play the piano.”

           “I have to thank him for that,” Xīnyí said, laughing to himself just loud enough for Nicky to catch and swat his arm.

           “I’m home!” Came a voice from the front hall. “They were out of those Christmas tree butters like I thought they would be but I went to three stores just in case!”

           “Hello, Lawrence,” Nicky said, greeting his stepdad with all the enthusiasm one might give a dental hygienist.

           “Nicholas,” Lawrence said. “Xī—” He broke off upon catching sight of Xīnyí’s self-proclaimed ‘Trashy Outfit,’ though to give the man credit his composure only cracked for a moment. “Xīnyí. Nice seeing you again. You’ll be cold in that.”

           “I can’t say the same all things considered. Also I’m not exactly planning on wandering into the Massachusetts winter,” Xīnyí said. “My lack of vision would make that a little difficult.”

           “…Right,” Lawrence said brusquely. “Tilda where do I put the green beans?” As the two of them bustled about putting away groceries Xīnyí fumbled for Nicky’s hand to pull him aside.

           “What was his face like?” he asked, just quiet enough that Tilda and Lawrence wouldn’t here. Nicky guided Xīnyí’s hand to his face as he made a truly horrified expression. Xīnyí tried to stifle his laughter. “Perfect.”

           “If I leave you alone with him while I help my mom cook do you promise not to scream at him in Taiwanese?” Xīnyí gave a laugh that was more snort than anything else.

           “No.”

           “Babe,” Nicky said. “As enjoyable as it was for you to call him the Taiwanese equivalent of son of a bitch at Thanksgiving, we’re going for subtle digs this holiday season.”

           “Fine.” The word came out with an exaggerated sigh. “But if he crosses a line—”

           “Subtle,” Nicky repeated before walking him out to the living room. He returned to the kitchen just as Lawrence was shooed out with a kiss on the cheek and a “you did the grocery shopping, Nicky’ll help me!” From Tilda. Nicky made a mental note to tell Xīnyí later how uncomfortable Lawrence looking at being alone with him. Xīnyí on the other hand couldn’t have looked more relaxed, leaning back on the couch like he owned it.        

           “So,” Lawrence said with a resigned sigh like he’d just gotten the prognosis back on a plumbing problem that would cost more than he counted on. “What’ve you been up to?”

           “Fucking your stepson!” Xīnyí said cheerfully. He could practically hear Lawrence rolling his eyes in disgust.

           “You’re just as vulgar as you were at Thanksgiving I see,” he said.

           “And I’d say I see that that stick’s still up your ass but I don’t, considering I can’t see.” He laughed at his own terrible joke. “I’m hilarious.”

           “Clearly.” What he said and his deadpan tone were at odds with each other.

           “Alright, I’m gonna be frank with you, Law,” Xīnyí said. “Nicky calls you Law so I figure that gives me full reign to as well. Why is that stick so far up your ass when it comes to your stepson? At the risk of ruining my carefully cultivated jackass persona, Nicky’s a good man and a damn good writer. So why did you feel the need to make him second guess himself? Why did him wanting to pursue a creative writing degree sit so poorly with you? Why are you so hard on him?” Lawrence stiffened, pursing his lips to the point where they practically disappeared from sight.

           “You didn’t know him as a teenager,” he said in a tone of voice that was obviously supposed to be restrained and calm. “His mother spoiled him as a child and as a teenager that turned into brattiness. If Tilda wanted to spoil him then that was her right but I wanted him to have a chance and making a name for himself one day. You make it sound like I beat the boy. I have no idea what Nicholas has told you but I wasn’t abusive to him, I just did everything I could’ve to make sure he’d be successful later in life. If he saw that as being ‘hard on him’ then—”

           “Have you ever thought that maybe he wouldn’t have rebelled so much if you hadn’t been such an asshole to him? Xīnyí mused, all too aware that he’d avoided the second question.

           “And have you ever thought that maybe the matters of my family don’t concern you in the slightest?” said Lawrence.

           “Look, Lawrence, getting into shit that doesn’t concern me is a personal specialty,” he said, reaching up to tap his sunglasses for emphasis. “But as long as Nicky and I are a thing and your lovely wife keeps inviting us to holiday dinners, then it kind of does concern me.”

           “And truth be told I’m shocked you’ve lasted this long,” Lawrence said, leaning forward so he could whisper and still be heard over the Christmas carols drifting in from the kitchen. “Like I said before, you didn’t know Nicholas as a teenager. You didn’t see his…tendencies first hand. I firmly believe the man has some kind of commitment issues, the number of ‘boyfriends’ he went through. I’ve only known you a month but even that is a long time for him, I’m sure he’ll wash his hands of you eventually. The precedent he’s set has pretty much proven him incapable of anything else. So as charming as you’ve been these past two holiday dinners, I wouldn’t count on many more.” Xīnyí opened his mouth to say something in rebuttal but ultimately decided it would be better to take off his sunglasses and chuck them across the room.

           “Nicky! I can’t find my glasses!” he shouted. After some nondescript grumbling that sounded an awful lot like “for fuck’s sake,” Nicky emerged from the kitchen, slugging whiskey straight from the bottle in preparation for whatever the fuck was going on in the living room.

           “What?” he said.

           “I misplaced my glasses,” Xīnyí said, the picture of feigned innocence. His sunglasses were sitting under the Christmas tree having obviously been thrown. Nicky sighed, set the bottle down, and went to retrieve them, placing them back in Xīnyí’s hands.

           “Here you go darling,” he said, the emphasis obviously supposed to be a reminder about what he’d said about subtle though Xīnyí chose to ignore it.

           “Thank you,” he said, reaching up to pat Nicky’s face. “Now can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

           “Right now?” asked Nicky, glancing at Lawrence who appeared to have lost his lips again.

           “Yes now, it’s very important,” said Xīnyí. Nicky just rolled his eyes and guided him in the direction of the guest bathroom.

           “What did I say about subtlety?” Nicky asked once they were alone.

           “Something I wasn’t going to listen to, if I’m being honest.” Xīnyí shrugged.

           “Alright but what is so important that you have to talk to me now?” said Nicky.

           “Oh, that,” Xīnyí said. “How do you feel about marrying me?” Nicky looked at him like he’d just said he wanted to run off and join the circus, though he knew Xīnyí wouldn’t see his incredulous expression.

           “You’re shitting me.”

           “I’m serious, how do you feel about marrying me?” Xīnyí asked.

           “Dare I ask what the fuck brought this up?” said Nicky

           “Your stepdad,” said Xīnyí. “He basically called you a he-whore with commitment issues; said you’ll dump me by the time the next family dinner rolls around and he won’t be sad to see me go. I wanna prove him wrong, are you in or not?”

           Nicky didn’t have an immediate answer, and were he able to see Xīnyí would’ve seen the genuine contemplation on his face before he answered.

           “Can I trust you alone with Mom and Lawrence long enough to go buy a ring?”

***

           Nicky wasn’t sure what he expected to come home to, but a conversation centered around him was not high on the list.

           “I mean I no idea the house even had a piano, imagine my surprise when he starts going all phantom of the opera when I thought he was upstairs!”

           “He can actually play the theme from the phantom of the opera,” his mother said. “Insisted on learning it, to this day I have no idea why.”

           “Why are you talking about me?” Nicky asked as he came in. His mother and Xīnyí were sitting facing each other on the couch each with a glass of wine looking like old friends caught in the middle of gossip. Lawrence had been banished to the armchair where he sat lipless and practically pouting.

           “Because you’re so good at the piano, your mom and I were swapping stories,” Xīnyí said, waving a hand in the direction of Nicky’s voice as though trying to summon him.

           “I still don’t know how you didn’t know your house had a piano in it,” Nicky said.

           “Because I’m blind, Nicholas,” Xīnyí retorted. “I also didn’t know it had a basement!”

           “You’d think you would’ve stumbled into one of those things eventually,” Nicky said. “How long did you live there alone before I started living with you?” Xīnyí just stuck his tongue out in Nicky’s general direction.

           “Nicky, why don’t you play something for us now?” Tilda said. “Something Christmassy!” Nicky cracked his knuckles and sat down at the piano bench.

           “Why not?” he said. “Any requests?” He looked at Lawrence, who had mustered a minute amount of enthusiasm Nicky didn’t believe for a minute.

           “I don’t care,” he said.

           “Joy to the World it is!” Nicky said. It was one of the first things his uncle had taught him to play and for a while it was the only thing he knew. Lawrence had been sick hearing it constantly back then and to this day Nicky was fairly certain he’d still cringe at the sound of it. He was right and only wished Xīnyí could’ve seen it. When his mother cheered and called for an encore he suspected that glass of wine in her hand was not the first of the evening but continued playing another carol or two.

           “Alright, alright, my wrist is cramping,” Nicky said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Let me take a break.”

           “Fine, if you must,” Xīnyí said with an exaggerated sigh.

           “Don’t be rude,” Nicky said. “Why don’t you come sit with me?” Tilda helped him to his feet and guided him over to the piano bench.

           “If you’re gonna try to teach me to play something it’s gonna go tits up,” Xīnyí said. “I have no musical inclination whatsoever.”

           “Darling, watch your mouth in front of my mother,” Nicky said. “No, I wasn’t planning on it, just…considering it’s Christmas, and at Christmas we spend it with those we love, I wanted to get sappy for a minute.” That actually got Xīnyí to laugh though it sounded more in surprise than anything else.

           “Alright, let’s hear it.”

           “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ve never been very good at relationships.” He glanced at Lawrence, who whether softened by the music and jolly atmosphere or confused about the current situation was leaning forward, interested in the conversation.

“I have,” said Xīnyí.

“I shot myself in the foot with that when I was younger and never really learned how, I always assumed I’d just keep coasting through life awkwardly with dates that always fizzled out because I didn’t know how much of myself to give to another person until…” He took a shaky breath and in that moment it was obvious what he said was genuine. No matter how haughty he acted normally and how rare real, raw feelings were, he’d given himself away now, even as he kept talking pretending like he hadn’t. “Until you happened, you crazy, absurd, infuriating, brilliant man, who tears into me for eating peanut butter straight from the jar and who gave me a reason to start writing again and the confidence not to second guess myself. That’s a gift worth more than anything I could ever give you, but…

“I’d like to try, if you’d like to let me.” He’d pulled the ring box out of his pocket, placing it in Xīnyí’s hand and curling his fingers around it so he knew what it was. With his free hand he stroked Xīnyí’s face, running his thumb across his lip to let him know he was seconds from kissing him if he said yes. He didn’t have to because Xīnyí did just that after answering.

“Of course I’ll marry you!” he said, throwing his arms around Nicky’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. Tilda was crying and saying something about Christmas magic. Lawrence looked legitimately stunned in a way that could’ve been equal parts fatherly pride or the realization that he was stuck with Xīnyí, but he went over to the couch to put an arm around his wife.

“I told you you were a good writer, if you could pull that together,” Xīnyí asked, pulling back just enough that their noses were touching and they wouldn’t be heard over Tilda’s joyous blubbering. “So how much of that did you actually mean?” For the second time that night, Nicky didn’t have an immediate answer something his boyfriend—now fiancé—had asked. The answer he finally gave surprised even himself, considering what their relationship had always been: one based on mild insults and eye rolling and genuine affection met with a snort and “wow that’s gay.” The fact that their whole engagement had come about from the idea of spiting a mutual enemy spoke volumes about the nature of it, and yet…

“Every word.”

[newstfionline]

Pregnant at 18. Hailed by Abortion Foes. Punished by Christian School.

By Sheryl Gay Stolberg, NY Times, May 20, 2017

BOONSBORO, Md.--Maddi Runkles has never been a disciplinary problem.

She has a 4.0 average at Heritage Academy, the small private Christian school she attends; played on the soccer team; and served as president of the student council. But when her fellow seniors don blue caps and gowns at graduation early next month, Ms. Runkles, 18, will not be among them.

The reason? She is pregnant.

The decision by school officials to bar Ms. Runkles from “walking” at graduation--and to remove her from her student council position--would have remained private, but for her family’s decision to seek help from Students for Life. The anti-abortion group, which took her to a recent rally in Washington, argues that she should be lauded, not punished, for her decision to keep her baby.

“She made the courageous decision to choose life, and she definitely should not be shamed,” said Kristan Hawkins, the Students for Life president, who tried unsuccessfully to persuade the administrator of Heritage Academy to reverse the decision. “There has got to be a way to treat a young woman who becomes pregnant in a graceful and loving way.”

David Hobbs, the administrator at Heritage Academy, a nondenominational independent school in Hagerstown, Md., where students take daily Bible classes, declined to discuss Ms. Runkles. In a written statement issued on behalf of the school’s board of directors, he said she would earn a diploma, and called her pregnancy “an internal issue about which much prayer and discussion has taken place.”

Ms. Runkles’s story sheds light on a delicate issue: how Christian schools, which advocate abstinence until marriage, treat pregnant teenagers.

“You have these two competing values,” said Brad Wilcox, a sociologist at the University of Virginia who directs the National Marriage Project, which conducts research on marriage and families. “On the one hand, the school is seeking to maintain some kind of commitment to what has classically been called chastity--or today might be called abstinence. At the same time, there’s an expectation in many Christian circles that we are doing all that we can to honor life.”

Navigating that balance is exceedingly difficult for Christian educators, and schools respond in various ways, said Rick Kempton, chairman of the board of the Association of Christian Schools International, which represents about 3,000 schools in the United States and many others overseas.

“There’s a biblical term that many Christian schools use, and it is the whole idea of grace: What would Jesus do?” Mr. Kempton said. Of Ms. Runkles, he added: “She’s making the right choice. But you don’t want to create a celebration that makes other young ladies feel like, ‘Well, that seems like a pretty good option.’”

Some schools, he said, might insist pregnant students finish the school year at home. That was one option considered for Ms. Runkles. She took a two-day suspension as the Heritage board--led at the time by her father, Scott--wrestled with her fate.

Mr. Runkles, a bank vice president, recused himself from decisions involving his daughter, but ultimately he quit the board in anger over how she was treated.

“Typically, when somebody breaks a rule, you punish them at the time they break the rule. That way, the punishment is behind them and they’re moving forward with a clean slate,” he said. “With Maddi, her punishment was set four months out. It’s ruined her senior year.”

In 2009, the National Association of Evangelicals, drawing on figures from the National Campaign to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy, reported that 80 percent of young evangelicals engaged in premarital sex. A spokeswoman for the evangelical group said its own research, however, suggested that the figure was much lower.

Slightly more than half of women who have abortions--54 percent--identify as Christians, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a research organization that tracks abortion policy.

Among them is Jessica Klick, 40, the athletic director at Heritage Academy, who has been serving as a mentor to Ms. Runkles. Ms. Klick had two abortions, one when she was 20 and the second at 21, after becoming pregnant by a man she later married.

Ms. Klick, who has two sons with her husband, said she had spoken openly of her past to Heritage Academy students. She said she had felt pushed into terminating her pregnancies by her own strict religious upbringing. She was terrified of what her parents would think. When she called a clinic for an appointment, she gave a phony name.

“I went into an abortion clinic knowing I shouldn’t, and God was the last thing on my mind,” she said.

Ms. Runkles, who considers herself “a practicing born-again Christian,” expects to raise her baby, a boy, with the help of her parents, and keeps a framed ultrasound picture on her night stand at her family’s home here in rural Boonsboro, a small town of about 3,500 people not far from Antietam, the Civil War battlefield.

She calls the child “a blessing,” but declined to discuss the baby’s father, except to say that they do not plan to marry, and that he does not attend Heritage Academy.

Ms. Runkles learned that she was pregnant in January, just days before she got an acceptance letter to the college she had hoped to attend: Bob Jones University, a Christian liberal arts school in Greenville, S.C.

Initially, she tried to keep the pregnancy a secret. She also thought fleetingly, she said, of abortion. But after a few days, she confided in her mother, Sharon, who works in a mental health clinic, and eventually her father, who called an emergency meeting, he said, to inform Mr. Hobbs and the board members.

Heritage Academy, which has fewer than 200 students from prekindergarten through 12th grade, was founded in 1969, its website says, by parents “who prayed earnestly for a Christian school where children could be taught according to God’s Holy Word.” Its nine-point “statement of faith” declares that “no intimate sexual activity be engaged in outside of the marriage commitment between a man and a woman.”

Ms. Runkles said she knew she would face punishment, “because I did break the school code.” When Mr. Hobbs decided to announce her pregnancy to her older classmates, she said, she told him that she would announce it herself--and did so during an emotional session in the school auditorium.

Many students thanked her. She said she felt that she was being treated more harshly than students who have been suspended for, say, underage drinking and lying about it.

“I told on myself,” she said. “I asked for forgiveness. I asked for help.”

Sara Moslener, who teaches philosophy and religion at Central Michigan University and has written extensively about evangelicals and sexuality, said Ms. Runkles’s situation sounded “very ‘Scarlet Letter’ to me.”

Ms. Runkles agrees. She is trying to start a chapter of Embrace Grace, an organization that works with churches to help single pregnant women. While many in her school are supportive, she still sometimes feels like an outcast. She wears a jacket over her school uniform--a polo shirt and khaki skirt--to cover her bulging belly, so as not to make others feel uncomfortable. Her parents are planning their own graduation ceremony for her on June 3, the day after Heritage Academy’s event.

“Some pro-life people are against the killing of unborn babies, but they won’t speak out in support of the girl who chooses to keep her baby,” she said. “Honestly, that makes me feel like maybe the abortion would have been better. Then they would have just forgiven me, rather than deal with this visible consequence.”