#its very interesting to look at the truth in photos .like how my bike was mostly yellow instead of red like i remembered

[b6d11f]

view of other worlds from our windowsills

[allthingsfern]

In order, my responses to comments in Reply of my COVID19 era post that was my answer to my question “My answer to my questions: Has the era of COVID19 changed your photography? How? And perhaps also, why?“ I am so confused now...

adventuresofalgy

Algy thinks you are lucky and - certainly if compared with Europeans - perhaps quite unusual in not having experienced a more profound effect on your creative outlets and expression. Many of Algy's creative friends have experienced wide-ranging and often severe impacts on their creativity and associated motivation - and therefore on their mental health as well.

themazette

As @adventuresofalgy Jenny said.... you are lucky...

I am indeed very lucky, or as I think of it, blessed. However, it is no way a US thing, nor even a California thing. I add California, because I know many in the US and around the world think of the Golden State as a haven, a progressive, hippie filled state that is all about peace and love and marijuana. However, that is far from the truth. California is like Germany in the 1920s and 30s. There was Berlin, where there was a wildness in the city that was not shared, and was often looked-down on, by those in the majority of the country, who lived in more conservative areas and who, often, economically could not afford the grand life of partying Berliners. In California it is the same. Except for a few urban areas, the state is full of very conservative folks, and for them, like for those in the cities (and in the rest of the world) this COVID19 era has been devastating. Well, and the fires for Californians have been too.

Even in this cool college town where I live, which is lovely and quiet and inspiring, the painfully empty streets, movie theaters, restaurants, shops (think of all those unemployed people) is (still) staggering. In mid-March last year, right after lockdown, I took several phone videos of the deserted street in our town and the campus, but I could not bring myself to share them, since I knew that so many others here on Tumblr were experiencing the same desolation in many different ways. (I figured: “Why add to the sorrow we are living, almost globally?”) I was overwhelmed by the emptiness of the major (well, major for a small town of around 65,000 people) street where I live and the empty bicycle trails and street on campus. And by empty, I mean that even now, I see maybe 3 cyclists per hour, and very little car traffic. Remember, this is a bicycle town; I do not own a car, doing most all my errands on my bike with its 2 fordable baskets in the rear.

And now, over a year later, that same heavy, oppressive emptiness persists. And no, I am not used to it. And yes, I traveled over the last year, but I found the same suffocating blanket of emptiness in each city I visited, even in Las Vegas. It was unnerving. As a matter of fact, last year when I drove to San Francisco 2 months after lockdown for my birthday, I wound up getting depressed and disoriented, in a city where I lived for almost 7 years. Driving back home across the Golden Gate Bridge with tears of sadness in my eyes on my birthday was not what I expected. However, I did get some solid photos of the malaise that hung thick in the air, a malaise that physically took up the space that once was taken up by crowds of people.

Now, I am also very aware that my situation is unique. (Not a fan of the word exceptional, since it can mean both unique and special, and I do not see my situation as special.) My life situation is very unique in that I have a job I love and I work with a great team of characters. We get work done and we have fun, share about our lives. My job is often, especially since COVID19 first got noticed in early 2020, stressful and demands my colleagues and I learn (and sometimes then teach) lots of new technology and that we adapt to the vagaries of the technology gods, which are sometimes unfriendly and unresponsive. And a big part of my job is trying to figure out how to get the technology gods to like us again and grace us with their gifts. (I never realized, until now, with this discussion, that the troubleshooting that is a big part of my job is creative and probably fuels my photographic creativity. Who knew?) Yet, as a group, my colleagues and I support each other. And I am fortunate to count my closest colleague, Steve, as a friend. We have been a great emotional support to each other over the years and now through this COVID19 era. And I recently was reminded (as if I needed reminding) just how unique my work situation is because I participated in a committee that was going over responses to a UC Davis-wide survey exploring levels of employee satisfaction. My 2 colleagues who were also on that committee and I did not have the complaints that others from other departments shared. We work well together, have supportive management that share what is going on and include us (as mush as possible) in the decision making process. And as a department, we get stuff done.

Possibly the best example of how blessedly unique my situation is is what happened this morning when I was talking (yes, on ZOOM) with my immediate supervisor. We discussed the work related stuff, including how at around 10:30 pm the night before I figured something out about an online tool integration I had never done before that I knew was easy but I did not see as easy until I reread the overly complicated instructions a couple of times and just figured out how and where to cut and paste the lines of code (it was that easy, just fucking cut and paste some lines of JSON code) that got the fucking thing to work. Then we talked about his dealing with his young children returning to school and how “normal” now is not “normal” from before and how disruptive the whole thing has been, yet since we work in a supportive atmosphere (and are both salaried), he was able to deal and keep living.

Then, and you are gonna love this, I shared about my original COVID19 question post and the responses and pretty much said to him what I am sharing here.

We talked for a little over an hour. That kind of rapport is rare, for any job, anywhere.

And then there is another way my situation is unique. In some ways, previous “bad things” were actually a preparation for this era of physical distance and uncertainty. In mid-2019, from July to August, first because of my work related bowling concussion and then an antibiotic resistant infection, I was bedridden for about 5 weeks and then had several absences because of concussion issues, like sudden and extreme anger flare ups, nausea, headaches. But however bad I thought that concussion and infection were, the concussion induced forgetfulness and my desire to sharpen my mind and nurture and nourish it have lead me to become, in my old age, organized. I now often take notes of important stuff, add work and personal dates and notes to my Outlook calendar, and even know what day it is, which bugs my colleagues who often find they have no idea what day and/or date it is. Yep, unique, but the bad concussion shit got me to be organized in ways that I was never able to be before, no matter what I tried. This time, I just fucking get organized, without thinking about it too much. And if I fuck up with my being organized, like I did the other day for work, I admit it, fix it, and move on.

Preparation for isolation (and unexpected natural threats) came by way of the 2018 Northern California (the region where I live) fires that year, which caused the campus to shut down for about a week. (As my friend Steve called it, the smoking break.) And for work, my colleagues and I faced a couple of long term, emergency technical outages that impacted all of the UC Davis faculty, one of them for over a month. Pretty much on a professional and personal level, I was, if not ready, at least getting used to the WTF of whatever life decides to surprise me with. (And lets not forget the really bad fire last September, seen in this video I posted of ash “snow” falling. We did not have to shut down the campus because there was no one there anyway.)

Another aspect of this last year, and one that has been present in my life for a few years now, is the BLM movement and the brutal police violence against Black people in this country. As someone who was a teaching assistant and taught in African American Studies and worked closely with students of color on campus in a student run organization, I was and am still devastated, in part because I know, from hearing so many personal accounts, the pain many of my friends, former colleagues, and former students, are still facing and how overwhelmed they felt and still feel. I understand, if as an outsider, their emotional exhaustion. This has been going on for a while, plus add the years of anti-immigrant hate against the Latinx in the US and the rising tide of violent hate against Asians, and yes, it has been sorrowful. Heartbreaking. And I have, in several ways, including my photography, tried to capture the sorrow and resilience of US people of color. It hurts, almost physically, that many people of color are just tired of talking and dealing with the hate.

So, yes, my situation is unique, but with its own emotionally draining weight. And yes, I am extremely grateful. This leads to the other 2 comments in Reply:

kkomppa

Thank you for sharing, Fern. Very interesting. Like you, I would say my output hasn’t changed much. However, I have sought locations deeper in the wilderness. This has been fulfilling.

schwarzkaeppchen

Really interesting thoughts. We live in strange times, but creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons. My photography has changed a lot. I used to work as a photographer at events and took portraits for fun... Now I'm officially a portrait photographer.

Both of these comments point to another unique aspect of my life situation: For some of us, our photography and how we do it, has not changed much, and if it has, that has been a part of our overall experience with this art form we love so much.

For me, because of my depressive tendencies, the Zen of photography, at least the way I do it, is therapeutic. And I do not use the  term “Zen” lightly here, because my spiritual life has helped me come to terms with the WTF surprises that are pretty much life, if at times the WTF of it is more impactful, as it is during this COVID19 era. And that is part of what I was trying to share with my original post: Before this period of isolation and disorientation, I was already coming to grips with the gospel truth that “creativity and motivation comes and goes for so many different reasons.” as @schwarzkaeppchen​ said. In no way do I diminish the anguish flared up by these bleak times that impact so many around the world. And really, when you think about it, bleak times have been a norm, at least here in the US, since late 2016, though, of course, lockdowns and physical distance make it all worse. But, at least for me, I try to learn from the bleak times, even if I abhor going through them. And when dealing with the highs and lows of creative energy, at least for me, I have a calm certainty that photography is part of my life and I do not have to worry, since I only love it more each day. And the other side to my certainty is that if someday my love of photography fades, some other treasure of creativity will replace it.

Let’s be real, because of photography. I think about stuff like this and get to have discussions with so many great Tumblr original photographers.

And I am grateful for it, and no, this is not unique to my life situation. I know many of us love being here and sharing the good, the bad, the confounding.

Please think about joining @tvoom and me for InConverversation this month. It has been a long time since we talked, and this COVID19 era will be our topic.

I am grateful for all y’all.

[nethwan]

Heta Family Week 2021

Day 5 - Embarrassment | Friends

@hetafamilyweek

It’s not my best story but I was thinking that the bel and lux supporting their brother when he has a crush...

Lars - Netherlands / Mei - Taiwan / Emma - Belgium / Henri - Luxembourg

Lars has been thinking about his younger brother’s idea of inviting Mei to have dinner with them. She was a very good friend of his. Lars had never been very talkative or friendly, but as soon as he met her he wanted to talk to her every day, and to tell the truth, he had a big crush on her.

“So, do you think this is a good idea?” he asked him, not very convinced. 

“Yeah, I mean she’s your friend, isn’t she? Besides, this could be your chance to tell her how you feel about her.” Henri said.

Lars almost spit out the coffee. 

“I don’t like her,” Lars said, red up to his ears. 

Emma and Henri looked at each other then looked at him.

“Yeah, if you say so,” Emma said. 

“It’s true”

“Alright…. Just invite her” 

Mei accepted immediately and he prayed that everything would go well. He didn’t know why he was so nervous if his siblings knew how to behave, although they sometimes bragged a lot about him. He had asked them not to say anything embarrassing, much less make any insinuations about his supposed feelings for her. 

Fortunately, that night the house looked perfect. Everything was in its place, it looked like a picture taken from a catalogue. Lars smiled in relief, maybe he was worried about nothing, and he felt silly for imagining horrible things like welcoming them with embarrassing pictures of him when he was child or something like that. So, he decided to relax and went to put his jacket and tie to his bedroom. 

“You have a very pretty house,” Mei said. 

“Thank you. This could be yours one day too” Henri whispered. 

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing” Emma nudged Henri with her elbow. It was too soon to tell her that. “We’re glad we finally met you, because Lars hadn’t stopped talking about you,” commented Emma.

Mei blushed and smiled. Did he really talk that much about her? She wondered. She thought he was more like the secretive type, but it was nice to know that he appreciated her too. 

“You know how my brother is, so we are happy he has a friend. He has always been very shy, since he was a kid. Let me show you a picture” Emma offered. 

And when Lars returned, they were looking at his old photo album. 

“Look, he was wearing a bunny costume here,” said Emma with a tender smile. “I think he was like 4 years old, he used to be really cute”

“Yeah, and look, he was on the soccer team of his school. He was such a good athlete” Henri added. “I bet you have noticed it”

“Oh, I didn’t know you liked sports,” Mei said as soon as she saw Lars back.  

“Well, I have been busy now… but why are you seeing that?” he said, taking it away. At least she didn’t look at that picture of him sitting on the toilet, he thought. “Let’s eat right now, I’m hungry”

But dinner didn’t get any better. Emma and Henri only talked about Lars. About his good grades at school, that accident with the bike that left him a scar above an eyebrow, that time when he cried because Emma took his bunny plushie without permission. Henri changed the topic to talk about his big brother’s successful social life. 

“He has always been popular, but he almost never dated. Did you know his type are short girls with long brown hair who like pink” Henri assured her.

Lars blushed. Why did he have to say something like that? He asked him with a glare. But Mei didn’t get it wrong, she only smiled shyly. Actually, she was wondering that. The conversation had different topics as Henri and Emma tried to focus the attention on their big brother, but he did the impossible to say another thing and distract them. 

For a moment, Mei excused herself and went to the bathroom. So, Lars complained about what was happening. 

“What’s wrong with you guys? I asked you not to say those things?”

“We’re just trying to help you to get a girlfriend, because if we wait for you to tell her anything we’ll get old,” Henri insisted. 

The three siblings argued about the best way to continue that dinner. Lars sounded too embarrassed because this was the first time they acted all meddlesome and interested in his love life. Well, yes, he liked her and probably he would eventually confess, he didn’t need help. 

Mei heard all that, but when she returned the siblings were quiet. The silence felt a bit uncomfortable, until they ate the dessert and they only talked about the cake and with that the nightmare dinner was over. However, they asked her to visit them again anytime.

The way to Mei's home, Lars was quiet, he only nodded to Mei’s shy comments about the delicious food, the pretty house and the tasty cake. 

“I’m sorry for today,” he interrupted her. “It’s ok if you don’t want to talk to me anymore,” he said.

“What are you talking about? To tell the truth, I was nervous. You guys look like the perfect family, but I felt like I was at home”

“But they gave you too much information…”

“Yes, but I could know more about you. I really liked them, they are so nice, but... I like you better” she said quietly and before saying goodbye she kissed his cheek. 

Lars was surprised and happy. It was strange, but he needed to thank them, they really knew what they were doing, he thought.

[wordsfromafangirl]

@cookiedoughmeagain

Saw this post.

Answered some of the questions.

Long post warning. Spoilers too for those who haven't seen the show or want to. Bare with. I did mostly answer Nathan and Duke oriented questions and there's no way I can answer those without shipper goggles on, sorry. Also, I think Haven left a lot of holes for the audience to fill in about the town. Don't know if that was intentional, but I often found myself wound up in subtext, things that could happen off screen with just those one lines, like you brought up about hijinx and illegal things Nathan might've done but we never see or really hear about.

For many of the questions concerning Vince and Dave, I just kind of assumed that half the time they were the old guys of Haven who kept its secrets and so anything they did was always suspect. They covered up the truth. They basically tried to keep their involvement a secret (all the time). Look at Vince and how he was the apparent leader of the Guard to keep troubles in check and help those (with mostly volatile and uncontrollable troubles) in need, but the Guard looked like that oppressive middle ground where they sometimes play both sides with or without Vince in charge…? Personally, Vince and Dave would be the sus people of the town. They know everything and sure when they are giving me my Haven newspaper everything seems peachy, but how far could you delude a town until it starts asking questions or rather everything implodes, and everyone just knows? Not an inner circle of people, the whole town knows now either because they were newly given a trouble or because they finally caught on that Haven was not a “normal” town. Vince and Dave are the gossipers and busy bodies but kept (dare I say) hypocritical secrets of their own? (<And this could answer the very last question about why they'd write an article if they knew, but memories were wonky that day except for knowing they found "The Colorado Kid" dead...?)

Now onto the questions that really got me curious:

5. What was Evi doing working with the Rev? Was she genuinely simply trying to help Duke, or was she working an angle? Did she know about the Troubles? What did she think the Rev’s motivation was? What were her final words (“If you don’t tell him, I will.”) about?

Honestly, this intrigued me, but I assumed Evi had to know. Didn’t she also mention something about Duke being powerful? I do not know, it has been a while since I watched it, but she had to know about the troubles. The Rev must have filled her in that Duke is a vital part of the plan but as my mind goes back to 2x09; in order to sway Duke, they could not allow Nathan to oversee anything. Nathan would stand in Duke’s way because it is someone who can convince him otherwise. Someone who would see the use of Duke’s trouble as “wrong” and uncontrollable and always try to stop him. Of course, we know there is more emotional ties between the boys that would make Duke stop and think about abusing his trouble. Or not even at this point because in 2x09 Nathan has no qualms about locking Duke up even if that meant they would (as they did) shoot Evi. Nathan could not stand the thought of Duke being injured?? I am digressing from the point, because you mention, “if you don’t tell him, I will” and that must mean she knew about the trouble(s)? She knew what Duke could be capable of, but they had to get Nathan out of the way? Literally, the Rev wanted to attempt assassinating Audrey and mostly Nathan because…that is the one person who would be in Duke’s way…in the guise of the Rev’s prejudiced mind when dealing with people who had troubles…then in the end look who Duke ends up siding with? "Just so you know I'm the lion."

6. On one of the commentaries there is talk of how Duke and Nathan got up to “hijinks” together as teenagers. WHAT WERE THE HIJINKS?

Many of their HIJINKS were probably pranks, you know. Duke would mostly prank Nathan of course and then occasionally Nathan finds himself wrapped up in one against other people. Or they are the kids riding around on their bikes (like the IT gang) and just causing a ruckus? They could be in a group. Yet I think sometimes Nathan and Duke ventured off alone…

I think if you consider off screen hijinks as teenagers it is probably why Duke acts so snubbed towards Nathan all the time. If you think about it, Duke lost a friend who would be the “bad boy” with him. Nathan turned into stuffy, stick up his butt Nathan either A. because of his trouble or B. because he had to follow in Garland’s footsteps and be a cop. It reminds me of Harmony right there at the beginning of the show, episode 3? Nathan is lying about everything, according to Duke and so he is being a Pinocchio like usual; not a real boy, which is also in reference to “his condition” of feeling no pain/nothing. And it is probably because Nathan was a “bad boy” and the only one who keeps that information in confidence is Duke. Nathan wants to keep it that way. Duke never really tells anyone anything and truthfully, he just likes fucking with “law-abiding” Nathan. Duke of course misses those times when they were teenagers just messing about and getting heckled by Garland, but maybe once or twice getting cuffs slapped on them only to be let go an hour later? Sooner or later, Duke would see that shift. Nathan would start becoming interested in law enforcement and Duke seeks a path towards smuggling/criminal activity. Duke is the only one being arrested by the time they are 17-30 and sometimes it is by Nathan (small head canon: Duke does it on purpose. He is an attention seeker and hell if he does not like Nathan putting him in handcuffs). Then suddenly Duke has up and vanished for a little while (guessing from 30 to 35ish? Or some time frame shorter). Nathan would lie about missing him, but because his trouble was activated how does Nathan really know? He just knows, but never admits it, hence the whole love/hate game we get between them when Duke does come back.

24. In Harmony Duke says something to Nathan about “does she know the things you’ve done?” - implying that when they were younger Nathan did something illegal and/or possibly immoral that Duke knows about (because he was also involved?) but most people (or at least, Audrey) don’t. WHAT THINGS?

Primarily? IT’S LOOKING THE OTHER WAY WHEN DUKE DOES SOMETHING ILLEGAL. It is essentially just being there as a participant while Duke breaks and enters? Or being there while Duke is smuggling something because I venture to think that business started early on for Duke. 18ish and onward? It is giving Duke a pass once, twice, three times and more. Nathan cannot be mad at Duke. Then there is maybe those few times is it was Nathan picking the lock. It was Nathan doing something illegal and Duke of course did not care. He would look the other way or help him along. This is something that would always stay between Nathan and Duke, which is why I think the relationship is so rocky. Duke is holding secrets that could jeopardize Nathan’s “law abiding” reputation and he never once tells a soul, right? This is a testament to loyalty and how neither of them hates each other. Of course, for me, from space they can be seen as exes. The on and off type of relationship because Duke’s smuggling business got in the way or as I think of it, Nathan got so tired of Duke being sort of unchanging that he would break it off and then suddenly he had run back to Duke, hop on the boat and beg to be taken back. Duke would chuckle and take him back. Was this secret? Or did the whole town see it? Most likely people knew, even Garland. Not so sure Simon approved, but somehow while their relationship was fucked up and Simon ends up dying, I don't think Duke necessarily sought his approval on anything? Truthfully, his feelings for Nathan were his business alone and Nathan mostly felt the same way so who cares?

26. What’s Duke’s side of the story about the fishing trip when Nathan’s Trouble got triggered?

Duke knows he fucked up.He used Nathan as a distraction while some illegal procedures were happening underneath his nose. Nathan thinks oh well maybe I still have a friend, because they’re probably in the middle of their: “Oh, seriously, Duke. Put your hands behind your back.” “Oh, come on Nathan, can you just this once not.” Too late. Nathan grabs his wrists and puts his hands behind his back. Duke feels the familiarity of handcuffs and smirks his whole to Nathan’s Bronco. Ironically.

If I track it right Nathan’s trouble was triggered on this fishing trip before Duke left Haven right? So therefore, this was probably to make amends? It might have been that good old let us just actually hang out as friends (or more…because my brain goes there) but it turns out I need you as my cover while shady shit goes on in town. Nathan finds out. They fight. It triggers the trouble. And presumably Duke feels so guilty and thus he decides to leave. Or he had already decided and did not know how to tell Nathan on the fishing trip, but part of leaving and getting out of dodge meant also doing some smuggling for parts, money etc.

35. Wouldn’t Nathan have recognised Duke in The Colorado Kid photo? (Especially given that he would very probably have seen the photo when he was a kid?) And wouldn’t he have told Audrey that from the beginning?

Everyone’s memory was effed up right? So perhaps Nathan did not remember? Though, you are right. Nathan would have recognized him. Would he have told Audrey? Not so sure, because Nathan would be in that battle inside his head. How far can I trust Audrey? I immediately liked her. Duke does too. That should mean she is great. But Duke is kinda sorta my friend…my ugh whatever, tell him or do not tell him? Imagine Nathan knowing about the photo before Duke reveals to Audrey that it is him…and so Nathan is sitting in his house waiting for coffee to cool off and contemplating…I could tell Audrey. It is crucial information, and I don’t know why Duke isn’t saying anything? Is there a reason? Should I talk to him first? Then at one point he just gives up and lets Audrey continue playing detective in hopes Duke would just fess up. For me, Nathan is in a constant battle of loyalty when it comes to Duke and Audrey, but when he realizes that Duke cares just as much about Audrey...(okay, we're not talking about threegulls and the relationship that is the three of them...)

23. Were there ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse?

Hey! There is a female Crocker isn’t there? Or does she since she cannot even be near Dad at all, inherit the trouble of the dock worker only? Whose name slips my mind. But I venture to think that Duke’s blood would overcome that, but the baby had life draining powers because that was the trouble of the dock worker. Baby after baby only to suck the life out of the father like some metaphorical siren.

Personally, I always think that if the babies survive and we know she did, then I think by the time she’s a teen all life draining powers would just go away [because I assume that’s the curse, never being able to keep the baby but the baby doesn’t get the full curse; however what about duke’s trouble [at this point is his trouble is inactive like a volcano, but can it still be passed on? Volcanoes sit there and stew so the genetic thing of the trouble must still be there…isn't it implicated that families still have the trouble but can go on without it being activated?]…anyway, Duke’s blood is taking over and she finally realizes something funky is going on so she searches out her father because Nathan made sure to tell the adoption services that any parents who fosters or even adopts her down the road they should tell her that her real father is out there and he did not, would not just abandon a baby (even if it happened in real time and not some sped up sci-fi version).

Basically, in any version (in my head) of the Crocker bloodline, Duke is probably the first to have a girl and yes she'd get the same trouble, because imagine a badass woman who looks like Duke manage the Crocker trouble (the eye thing). It seems to me though that it was bloodlines/legacy that stuck with men because apparently boys were it in the Crocker family. And many other families seemed that way too. Some troubles seemed bound by legacy born from the men and carried on, etc. I like to think that Duke subverted all that shit. And funny enough, his trouble went away at one point, but I think if there were ever any female Crockers? If there were, would they have had the same curse? If there were that baby girl could have still had it. Meaning his fate could have been different if they played an angle of that daughter coming back into the story. Someone else who had Duke’s trouble and then of course, it would turn into a reason for Duke to live (still bitter because I’m being biased as to who is my favorite in the Haven world). Imagine juxtaposition story lines of Dwight and Duke fighting… Duke: “She’s my daughter!” Dwight: “Well, that’s my daughter too!” Then they would both just take a deep breath and realize they are fighting on the same side.

Okay, so I am blowing smoke with an answer to this question but really, I see it and go, damn, I wish we could have seen more of Duke being fatherly. I mean we got the pirate episode of him taking care of that young girl who could manipulate your will, but honestly, Duke raising a kid…

__

Much of this may not be an answer at all. It's head canon really, because often with Haven I felt like I had to fill in experiences of the characters. Mostly did so with Nathan and Duke, individually and then together. However, there's something about this show, because questions always pop up even when you revisit it. Like wait a minute? What? Was this intentional? How in the world did this happen? Sure, we'll just accept some things even if it's strangely abnormal to the plot, but after all it's Haven.

[resinatingbeauty]

Instead of doing another infographic, I thought I would tell you a spooky true story instead, one that changed my life forever. It has nothing to do with the history of Samhain or rituals or whatever, but it was the only verifiable experience I had ever had at that point in my life.

Here it goes, link at the bottom of this post for the local news article I ended up finding 8 or so years later as I didn’t think to do so at the time. Note the comment by the apartment’s previous tenant after the fact, describing ‘strange phenomena’.

It was early November, though all seasons seem to blend together when you live in Florida. I was born in St. Augustine, went up north to Illinois and Minnesota, coming back down here to Palm Coast where I’ve lived for over a decade. Full circle.

I was 19 and lacked the confidence to get a job in the fields that I got my certifications in as an Esthetician/Cosmetologist. I just wasn’t the social butterfly that I felt people expected from their hair stylist. I was also stubborn and wanted to do things my way, which I learned to not be eventually, but much later.

Needless to say, I spent the next year or so being a depressed drug addict working at a fast food place. The drug addiction wasn’t fully set in yet, only just beginning at this point. I still had actual friends that weren’t suppliers or people who just hung around because you got high together. One of them was named Cheryl.

Cheryl was in her late fifties and a former queen of the BDSM scene. How did I know that? She told me and, unfortunately, showed me a photo album once that I cannot unsee to this very day. Eccentric, yet worldly and intellectual. I enjoyed listening to Cheryl. She really didn’t give a flying fuck what other people thought of her because she thought she was great. And she really was.

I was driving her home for a while because she had been in a car accident.Hit by a car while riding her bike, as it that was the only mode of transportation she had. I felt bad for her, so I offered to give her rides home when I was working.

Home to Cheryl was actually a resort hotel that was coverted into fully furnished apartments when the European Village went on the decline due to its management being a complete crackhead. The place was well known as a luxury crack den and many people were always hanging around some drug dealer’s door. It probably had, and still does have, the cheapest rent in down. That’s also due to the fact that its had a fair share of overdoses and suicides in the five years total it had been standing at that point. I felt safe with Cheryl, but I was also naive. Thankfully, she wasn’t a junkie and never tried to rob me, kidnap, or rape so that was nice.

One night I didn’t have to close, Cheryl invited me in to hang out because I never felt like going home to my parent’s house. We would chat and she would show me old photos of her dressed as a dominatrix. You know, normal stuff.

At one point, the conversation turned to the spiritual. At that time, I was far from a spiritual person. I had never had much faith in a God and had lost all faith in my various Gods and Goddesses I had been communicating with for years prior, mostly due to be set in the dark pit of despair that was my mind when I was 19. I was, however, still intrigued by the concept of the paranormal.

Cheryl had a dog. The dog had randomly appeared in the living nook where were sitting and spontaneously started barking at the balcony door. I didn’t know Cheryl even owned a dog, so I was shocked immediately when I heard barking. Cheryl just smiled and started telling me about ‘Caroline.’

Caroline was a tenant that had allegedly killed herself on another floor, but rumors circulating around the resort referenced to her known to be abusive boyfriend actually being responsible for her death. She was a drug addict, which meant her death was swept under the rug and hardly acknowledged by anyone other than those who knew her personally or happened to be present during one of the frequent public altercations between her and her boyfriend.

Cheryl gestured to where the little Yorkie was panting excitedly in front of the balcony and told me that every so often, Caroline would come to her on the balcony, like a full body apparition. She said she would hear her voice and talk to her and expressed no fear at all. Cheryl said she knew that Caroline wasn’t a threat, she was just very sad.

I went home that night thinking nothing more about it other than it was interesting and I could only hope to be as privileged as Cheryl was with her ghostly encounters. I didn’t bother verifying the storyline because I had figured if her death had been ruled a suicide there wouldn’t be much on it to find.

The next night at work, I was set up to bring Cheryl home again but also had made plans with a new coworker who I thought was cute, David, that had taken a part time job on leave from the Navy. He was a good sport about making a pit stop at Cheryl’s and they seemed to get along, well enough that Cheryl invited us up to her apartment again but told us that she had to run to the second floor and feed her friend’s dogs who had gone away for a few weeks. After chatting for a bit, no one felt comfortable staying in her apartment without Cheryl there, so we followed her to the second floor, if not out of curiosity to see more of the building itself that was normally locked to those without key cards.

When we arrived on the second floor, I remember stopping at the end of the hallway where we exited the stairwell and feeling uneasy. This part of the floor seemed much darker than the third floor where we were, and when I looked up, I noticed that there was a light missing at the end of the hall right above a boarded up room at the very end, like something out of a movie. Neither I nor David asked about it, both of us could imagine a million reasons why the door would be boarded, but none of those reasons I thought up correlated with what Cheryl had been telling me the night before. I kept staring at the boarded up door at the end, my eyes scanning over the walls around us. What I saw looked like blood spatters on the wall that had long set in there, but I refused to accept that as truth.

I turned to look at David who had been taking in the scene as I had been. We were both tired. It was well past midnight and from the look on his face I couldn’t read what was going through his mind.Then, everything suddenly shifted.

I couldn’t tell if something had walked past us in the hall or something had happened outside to make the lighting change inside, but the entire hallway seemed to lose the dim lighting it had. It became very cold, briefly, instantly- as soon as it occurred, everything was normal again. I thought I heard someone whispering, quickly. I looked at David again and could tell now that he had experienced everything I had just experienced. I stood there for a moment, my mouth hanging open, all I could come up with to say was,

“You saw all that right?”

David nodded. He knew exactly what I meant. There was no question, but the look on his face wasn’t one of fear. I didn’t even feel fear. What I felt was a sense of sadness and dread so profound and consuming that to this day I don’t have the words to describe it. Like being told you were fired, your lover dumping you, and your whole family dying in a car crash at the same time.

Cheryl finally emerged from the apartment and saw us both standing there. We attempted to describe what we saw to her and Cheryl just cracked a small smile as she was locking up.

“That room down there? Yea that’s where Caroline died,”

David had no knowledge of Caroline. He hadn’t been there prior, he didn’t hear any of the stories that Cheryl had told me about this apparition on the balcony of a girl whose death remained a mystery to many of the tenants. I would explain it to him and tell him what Cheryl had told me the night before, wondering if she had mentioned it in passing knowing what room was going to be at the end of the hall, of which she didn’t alert me to. Maybe she had an agenda to prove she wasn’t insane and to insure I would have my own experience with Caroline.

8 years later, I would look up the name Caroline in conjunction with European Village and found this article that doesn’t seem to give much more than the bizarre way she allegedly killed herself. If you wish to read that article and the bizarre comment from the apartment’s newest tenant, click here

Sound familiar? If you frequent /r/no sleep you may have read a version of this story written under my creativity handle, HereInTheNight.

[singaporeluststoriescollection]

How I managed to bang my GF's family and friends (Part 1)

Hi bros, I have been a silent reader for months and now I would like to share my own experience about how I managed to get lucky with my GF’s family and some of her friends.

  Before I begin, I believe some of you will be wondering “Waa, you sure or not?”

  If I were to be honest, all I can say is that I’m not bad looking and I keep myself lean and fit. Most importantly, I am pretty confident and a little cocky at times. I guess some girls dig my style.

  Anyway, I thought it would be interesting for me to share my life story here, so here I go:

  I was 27 when my GF brought me to meet her family. Things were getting serious between us, and we were considering marriage. It was a big step ahead for me, as I never thought I would see myself getting married.

  My girlfriend (Evelynn) is the same age as me, a petite 27-year-old lady standing at around 155cm. I met her at work and she’s a demure and sweet lady, partially the reason why I fell in love with her. Naturally, I was expecting her family to be a traditional and conservative Chinese family.

  From what I understood, she has an elder sister and an elder brother, with her being the youngest sibling. She told me that her sister is a HR personnel working in an MNC, so I was expecting a dull, boring lady.

  So, you could imagine the shock I got when she opened the door to her house and what greeted me was a sweet pair of tits.

  It was 8pm or so on a Friday night and her sister (Eyvon), had just gotten home from work and had taken a bath. She later told us that she had totally forgotten that Evelynn is bringing me over for dinner.

  Eyvon was playing with her phone on the Sofa when we entered the house. The first thing I saw was her perky nipples underneath a thin, worn-out T-shirt. The outline of her nice C-cup boobs almost bursting out of the tight-fitting t-shirt. Best part of it all was that she’s completely unashamed that I’m there talking to her while her tits are almost visible.

  Evelynn brought me to her room later and Eyvon joked around a little before that, saying “Mom and Dad will be home soon, so don’t try anything funny in the room!”

  Now my head is filled with images of her firm and round boobs and I have a hard time keeping my boner down…

  My GF’s mom and dad came home within half an hour or so, and I went out to greet them. Not knowing what to expect, I was pretty darn nervous. What if her parents don’t like me? What if I smell weird? It’s the first time I’m meeting them after all.

  I came out just in time to see her parents placing a box of cake on the table. I’ve seen her parents from her photos before, and they look pretty friendly. True enough, her parents were all smiles when they saw me. Her dad came over and shook my hand- firm and strong. He seems like a chubby man in the photos but I’m pretty damn sure those were all muscles below his fats.

  Her mom came over and gave me a hug. The moment her arms wrapped around my back, the first thing I felt were her plump breasts. And holy shit were they impressive. Looks like Eyvon got a good portion of her mom’s good genes. My GF Evelynn on the other hand, is a modest A cup. However, I must say that my GF’s face is the prettiest among them all.

  I savoured the short couple of seconds her breasts were pressed against me, and proceed to make small talk with the dad while mom went to the kitchen to heat up the food for dinner.

  My GF grew up in an English-speaking household, so conversing with a middle-aged man in English made me felt as if I’m speaking with my boss at work.

  Not really a nice feeling, to be honest.

  After a short chat with her dad, dinner was ready and we dig in to the food. Eyvon wore a bra during dinner, perhaps due to her mom nagging her. It was a real pity, since I would like to see more of her breasts. My GF’s mom kept shoving food onto my plate, telling me to eat more. Every time she bends forward to pick up a dish, I could see her breasts press against the dining table. Thank god for the table blocking their view. By then my cock is almost at its limit.

  And it was on that day that I started to have weird thoughts about my GF’s family…

  It has been a week or so since the dinner, and I still can’t get the image of my GF’s sister and mother out of my mind. I’ve been having sex and fapping more frequently, to such a point where my GF started telling me that her private area is sore from all the sex. I have no choice but to visit ML for a quick release every now and then.

  Then the weekend came, and I was left with nothing to do in my house as my GF went to hang out with her female friends. My brother came and bug me to go to the gym with him as he needs a spotter, but I gave an excuse just so I could stay at home and fap. By then, I’ve almost used up all the fap-worthy photos available on Eyvon’s Facebook profile.

  I had to resort to my imagination.

  I could vividly see Eyvon standing in front of me, wearing nothing but the worn-out t-shirt from that day, signalling me to go over and do her on the sofa. I took off my pants immediately and plunge my cock deep inside her, imagining how she would moan. I ejaculated within minutes.

  At this point, I knew I had to get help, or at least speak to someone who can help me. It has to be someone I can trust…

  So, there I was, having frog porridge in area G with a good buddy of mine. Let’s just call him Jeremy. Back in NS, he was the one who taught me how to chiong, and we’ve been best buddies ever since. He may appear frivolous and act like a dick at times, but he is a good man who will never leave a bro in the lurch.

  Over the porridge and Gong Bao frog, I shared my issue with him.

  “Wah bro, your GF sister sound like she asking for it you know?” Jeremy half-jokingly teased.

  “I mean, come on lah” he added “Why else will she show off her body like that in front of others?”

  I then told him about how they’re English educated and might be more ‘open’ about such things, but Jeremy dismissed my claim.

  “No way lah” he continued “bro I know her type, she must be desperate for attention! You say she’s close to 30 and still single right?”

  And Jeremy was right. According to Evelynn, Eyvon broke up with her BF a couple of years back and hasn’t been in any relationships since.

  …I wonder why? It’s not like she’s hideous or anything.

  Jeremy brought me back to reality, and gave me a piece of his mind.

  “Bro, just try your luck and drop some hints lah, maybe you will get something out of it…”

  So, for the next couple of weeks, I tried my best to get closer to Eyvon. Evelynn was happy about the effort I was putting in, thinking I’m trying to gain the favour of her family. Truth be told, I was really trying to do that. Buying desserts and gifts for Evelynn’s family constantly certainly ain’t cheap, but I could tell that they are starting to open up to me more as the days went by.

  As for Eyvon, she started wearing skimpier clothing as the days went by. It’s as if she considers me a member of the family by now. She used to wear T-shirts and shorts around the house all the time, and I enjoyed stealing glances her.

  However, I was greeted by a pleasant surprise when I went over to their house during one of the weekends.

  As usual, I made my trip to Evelynn’s house in the afternoon, expecting her to open the door for me. But little did I know that she’s taking a bath. Eyvon came to the door instead, and I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

  As if a grand reveal done by a magician, the wooden door opened up to reveal Eyvon wearing a grey spaghetti strap tank top! The tank top was probably one size too small, as it was a ridiculously tight fit even for a lean girl like Eyvon. The tank top accentuated her figure, and you could see all the curves at the right places.

  Most importantly, I can see the outline of her nipples beneath the tank top. If the tank top was white in colour, I’m willing to bet that we’ll get to get a good glimpse of the colour of her nipples.

  At that moment, I realized I was staring. And my brain, still recovering from shock, somehow made me said the darnest thing ever. (I probably sounded like someone recovering from head trauma)

  “Hi, hey, ah… Eyvon! Uh, looking good!”

  Eyvon raised her eyebrows, fairly surprised by my reaction. However, her surprise soon turned into a chuckle, and she moved aside to let me into the house.

  “You’re looking pretty good yourself!” she winks comically, and gave my butt a slap as I entered the house.

  …that was unexpected and… oddly arousing.

  Perhaps Eyvon realized that I had a thing for her due to this incident, as something interesting was about to happen soon…

  That very night, I stayed over at my GF’s place. Her parents are ok with me staying over and I don’t like to go home on weekends because of certain reasons (maybe I’ll elaborate on this in the future, it’s complicated)

  I tend to stay up late, due to my gaming habits. It’s 2am or so and I left Evelynn’s room for a drink.

  After pouring myself a cup of coke, I sat on the sofa, replying to my friends’ messages. One of my friends got into a bike accident a couple of weeks and somehow managed to injure his testicles.

  So, there I was, giggling like an idiot on a sofa while replying to the messages in the group chat, making fun of my friend.

  About 20 mins or so later, I heard a door swing open.

  Twisting my neck to one side, I saw Eyvon coming out from her room.

  “Hey, still not asleep ah?” She asked in a really sleepy voice.

  Thinking that my incessant laughing might have disturbed her sleep, I apologised to her.

  “Sorry ah, I was laughing too loudly”

  Eyvon opened the fridge, getting herself some orange juice.

  “Oh no no, that’s not what I mean! Not your fault I’m awake!” She replied.

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw the lights from the fridge illuminate her face. Despite having no make-up on and a head of messy hair, she still looked sexy as hell.

  Eyvon gulped the juice down and gave her arms a good stretch while yawning. Her chest raised before my eyes, stretching out the old t-shirt she’s wearing as pyjamas.

  At this rate, her T-shirt will rip one day.

  What kind of dumb ass would dump a gem like her? Wondering that, I turned my eyes back to my screen. Expecting her to return to her room after this, I went back to the group chat.

(Original thread: http://tiny.cc/td3x6y) (To be continued…)

[shulto-masusdesus]

The Cryptid Machine [BNHA AU: Chapter 1]

Time for the cryptid machine to go wild

(this is my writing sideblog btw)

i havent written anything else in days. i pushed for it so hard. 7k in three days and its just one chapter lol, fuck (i mean i wasnt writing anything else anyway so im glad i was productive at least thanks for giving me something to do lol)

But it was also fun

I accidentally really made them into the scooby-doo gang and honestly its the best thing ive ever done unintentionally. They just fit so well

@kawaiipotatuh @vango-bango and @sooske yo hi yall said you wanted to read it so i wrote it

sorry sooske i didnt get to shiga in this chapter but hes comin,,,,this is gonna be chaptered so he’ll definitely be in this soon. definitely plot relevant because i love shiggy. 

anyway A/N over time for the story

Rating: T for language and fantasy violence (no nsfw this time this is group friend story)

tags in the tags. some body horror because cryptid-related creepiness yknow. and major character death later on so yknow

if i missed anything tell me, okay now time for the story <3

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Izuku, frankly, was stunned.

“I thought it was just a hobby!”

“A hobby?” Shouto threw back what looked to be his thirtieth Five-Hour Energy, pouring syrup on the pancakes Izuku brought without paying much attention. They were more syrup than pancake at this point, but that was hardly priority at the moment. “A hobby?”

The giant frog sitting on the table between them blinked its left eye, and then the right, after a little delay. Izuku shuddered. Too much frog, too close, too much detail. Very scaly and slimy and bumpy. Frogs were not supposed to be big. But it was easily bigger than his head, almost the size of his torso.

“How did you get it in here?”

“Thawed crickets.” Shouto raised an eyebrow, as if having frozen crickets stored for a time such as this was normal and expected. Like a madman consumed by his own craft, he picked up a syrup-coated pancake with his own two hands, and bit into it. Then he looked at the mess with mild surprise, a gaze that read “What the fuck is this? Where did all this syrup come from?” Izuku didn’t have the heart to answer him. “…You’re underestimating me.”

Izuku shut his eyes, sucked in a breath, rubbing his temples. “So. You found this frog in the woods behind your house. You just so happened to have a pack of frozen crickets-”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Shouto leaned forward, elbows on the table, the plate of pancakes Izuku brought ruined and pushed to the side, with that damned cursed light in his eyes he got when he was about to tell a story, dive head-first into a theory, or conjure up a new way to ditch work. “I’ve been hunting this frog for months. I learn about many creatures when researching,”

Scrolling r/cryptids, Izuku thought. And various other unspeakable 2chan threads and dark web sites. He sighed. Those pancakes were better than usual, too...he managed to remember to use less butter…he forgot that all the time…if he was going to make pancakes in the middle of the night, they may as well be good...what was Shouto talking about? Oh yeah, the frog.

“-and I encountered this post about a kappa sighting. It was confusing, and I almost wrote it off as another incident of someone just seeing something very mundane in the wrong light - until I recognized the location of the sighting.” There it was, Shouto’s rare grin, a look very reminiscent of the cat that finally caught the mouse. “…Heartstone Lake, on the park side of the woods.”

The giant frog grumbled. Loudly. Its chest puffed a little and Izuku felt a wild fear for what a real croak would sound like. This thing was huge. “Uhm, yeah? And?”

“So I went and checked it out.” He went over to his Wall, pointing to photo after photo, and Izuku hummed along, suddenly very, very worried about this frog in the Todoroki’s basement. This could end in many ways, and a very loud croak waking up his dad would be one of the worse ones. “Found tracks. Tracks, Izuku. You have to understand - nobody ever finds tracks.”

Izuku nodded. “Crazy.” He said, noticing how the frog’s eye was starting to slowly roll around, as if looking, scanning its surroundings. He was a little bit more than freaked out. He really had thought that this was just an interest of Shouto’s. Not something he was actually going to pursue, and that it produced a very crypid-like thing, a real result? A part of him wanted to go home and go back to bed, before Shouto decided to find a demon from hell or something. Or before the frog turned out to be a demon from hell. “…Did you do a steak-out?”

“Yes. Many steak-outs.” Shouto sighed, rubbing his face. “For…six weeks. Every night and every spare minute I could get. Along with a camera live feed setup. Only today did I actually see something, and once I did, I didn’t let it get away.” His smile was so wholesome, but the fruit of his labor was probably a harbinger of the void. Izuku was torn between supporting his friend and self-preservation.

Izuku decided to call the two people who would help back him up in whatever answer was the right one. The guardian angels, Tenya and Ochako. Because he needed help.

“I’m gonna call Tenya and Ochako.”

To Izuku’s bewilderment, Shouto deflated, smile dying, abruptly concerned. Izuku sputtered, pausing in pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What?! Do you not want them to know, or-?!”

With a sigh, Shouto grumbled, “Tenya…You know what he’d say.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “It’s probably what you need to hear, really. Monster or not, this frog doesn’t belong indoors. We could get money for it, and what if it’s a new species or something-”

The other boy sighed. “Fine, whatever-”

The underside of the frog’s throat started expanding. Izuku watched in mute horror as it opened its mouth, and released a croak.

It was louder than Izuku expected. Very much so. His ears were left ringing from the rumbling warble, but that was hardly the biggest problem. There was a lot of thudding and yelling going on upstairs, in the upper levels of the Todoroki household; the family converging in on Shouto’s basement for whatever that definitely inhumane noise was.

Shouto’s dad was the strictest father around, and didn’t allow Shouto to have friends over on weeknights, nevermind late at night; since Izuku, an unapproved friend, basically snuck into the house on a weeknight at the unholy hour of three in the morning, he was breaking many, many rules.

And a giant fucking frog on the table in the middle of the room also would do more than raise a few eyebrows.

Shouto, however, was prepared. He pushed a mysterious white jar across the table to him, and pointed to the basement awning window. “I’ll help,” He said. “It’s actually not all that heavy.”

“Shouto! What was that?! What are you doing in there, it’s three in the morning on a school night-!”

There was his father. However, aside from the actual basement door lock, Shouto secretly installed about six extra locks, so he wasn’t getting in any time soon. “Studying, Dad,” Shouto said, heaving the massive, slimy frog off the table. He nailed he tired, annoyed, exasperated tone perfectly. Izuku opened the jar, and forced down a squeak - mushy, wet, dead crickets. “There’s a science tomorrow, I want to make sure I’m ready.”

His dad went quiet, which was his “you’re probably lying, but finding out the truth is more effort than I’m willing to put in at the moment” response. Izuku’s been witness to it a lot, as this is far from the first time he’s been a Master Lock away from getting caught. Shouto gave Izuku a look, frog in hand, as he opened the small window.

“Studying at such an…early hour is counter-productive. Get to bed, Shouto.”

“Alright.” Izuku shimmied out the window, onto the grass outside, and cringed as he opened the jar and gently picked up a soggy cricket corpse. With some difficulty, Shouto shoved the fat mass of jiggling skin through the awning, and Izuku pulled it the rest of the way out.

“Don’t let it out of your sight,” Shouto mouthed, scowling a little. Most likely because he was forced to get rid of his first find. Weird giant frog or not, it was really important to Shouto, so he couldn’t lose track of it-

The frog grumbled, and started hopping off.

“Get it!” Shouto hissed, and Izuku ran after it.

It wasn’t as fast as he thought. He caught up to it easily, and offered it a few crickets to bribe it into sitting still for a moment. Shouto’s window shut, and tense yelling ensued; Shouto buying time so he could hide incriminating evidence. His dad probably heard them.

An awkward ten minutes passed. Routinely, Izuku dropped a cricket or two, and the frog stayed put. Eventually, Shouto opened the window again, glaring.

“Take it to your house,” He said. “God knows I’m not gonna get away with hiding it here.” And he shut the window.

“So,” Izuku said, to the monster frog, dropping a couple more crickets. Its tongue flicked out to grab them, and honestly, Izuku feared for his safety. “I guess you’re coming to my place?”

 _______________________________________________________________

 Step one; get it onto his bike.

His basket was definitely big enough for the frog. He could probably stop every couple minutes to feed it a cricket so it wouldn’t struggle too much while he was on the road. It wouldn’t end well for either of them if it decided to upset the balance of the bike on the road.

He lugged the frog into the basket - it really wasn’t as heavy as it looked - and gave it a few crickets before locking the lid. Step two; get it home. That was the easy part.

The ride was mostly uneventful. The route was mostly muscle memory, so it wasn’t hard to hyperfocus on every odd rustle and bump on the back of his bike. He stopped to feed it about five times, and each time its tongue lashed out harder and faster. His fight-or-flight instinct begged him to run away from the very real monster frog on the back of his bike. He channeled the energy into maintaining cadence. If Shouto wasn’t his best friend, and wouldn’t probably murder him if he lost it, he would’ve let the frog hop into the woods when it tried to.

Finally, he reached his plain suburban neighborhood. He considered stopping at Kacchan’s house, but he’d probably kill the frog on sight, so he couldn’t rely on him for moral support. Time to call Ochako up for an early-morning napover. She said “anytime”, right?

Step three; get it to his room. His backyard didn’t have a fence, and he didn’t have a basement, and even if his mom didn’t have a panic attack when she saw the frog, she would definitely tell him to get it out of the house. Any rational person would, really. So. Hiding it in his bedroom was the only choice.

Mom never got out of bed past midnight, so it was easy to trudge inside, to his room, and to lock the door behind him. Then the frog leapt from his arms, and hopped its slimy body onto his bed. Ew. Time to call Ochako.

As promised, she answered by the fourth ring. “…Yaeah…Deku…?”

“Uhm, come to my house?” Izuku chuckled nervously. “Shouto found…uh, a giant frog, but he couldn’t keep it at his house, so I’m keeping it at mine. I need a little moral support?”

“...” Ochako sighed, a very, very long sigh. “...”

“Ochako?”

“What?”

“Shouto found a giant frog-”

“A WHAT?!”

It took Ochako all of fifteen minutes to get to his place, on foot. She took the short route to his room - through his window - and gawked at the frog for another five minutes, school backpack and sleeping bag falling from her hands.

“He - really?!”

“Yeah…”

She stared at it for a long, long time. It grumbled again. Izuku felt a sinking feeling.

“It’s - a giant frog.”

“...Yeah.”

“And…he just…?”

“No, he said he’d been looking for it for the past six weeks.”

“So that’s why he’s been passing out in class?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Ochako stared at the frog. “I thought it was all…”

“He flipped out a little when I said I thought it was just a hobby.” He ran his fingers through his hair with a huff. “This is really important to him.”

“Well…” She mumbled, eyes wide. “We may as well…take good care of it. H…how do you get a frog to go to sleep? Don’t frogs need heat lamps? How do we take care of a frog - a giant frog-” She stomped her foot. “Did Shouto think about this at all?”

She looked at Izuku. He raised an eyebrow in return. And she fell into giggles. “Yeah,” She said. “Let’s get it in front of a heater?”

Izuku left the room, running down to the hall closet to get a heater; on his way back, Ochako suddenly screamed.

He ran to his room, and to his horror, the frog was, for lack of a better term, erupting. Blowing up like a balloon. Ochako shoved him out of the doorway, into the hall, and slammed the door shut.

“What is going on here?” Oh, his mom was up now, rushing down the hall with concern. “What happened? Ochako, very…nice to see you, but at this hour? What’s happening?”

The two teens were speechless. They looked to each other for answers, but found nothing there but shock and general horror. Tentatively, Ochako cracked the door back open.

The frog was splayed about thinly like a shed bag. Sitting on Izuku’s bed now, instead, was a girl with long green hair. And also very naked, the frog broke open and was now a naked girl-

Confusion ensued. Mom screamed a little, shocked by the frog flash bag, and Ochako and Deku screamed because the frog was gone and Shouto was now on the list of people who wanted them dead; then his mom ran in, bringing the blanket up around the girl with shaking hands and firing off questions one after another, and Izuku screamed louder because he realized that somehow the frog became the girl - Ochako screamed louder, because she realized that with Shouto’s internet skill and wide range of information sources, there was no way to hide from him.

“Izuku, who is this?! Why is she naked?!” Mom turned to him with an unfamiliar demanding tone. “Explain! Now!”

“I don’t…!” Izuku was, completely, lost. “I don’t know…! I think - she was-!?”

Ochako stopped screaming, and said, “We don’t know! She - the frog - it exploded and - it was a frog before-!”

“A frog!?” Mom shouted - his mom never shouted. Izuku felt like reality was fraying at the seams. “What-”

“RIBBIT.”

Everything stopped. Ochako stopped. His mom stopped. Izuku felt like he suddenly lost the ability to breathe, like someone clicked ‘end task’ on his lungs and his panicking head.

The girl’s eyes were very, very big, an expression of pure confusion and shock on her face. “RIBBIT!” She screeched, again.

“R…’ribbit’…?” Mom said, weakly. “What do you mean…?”

“...” The girl stared at Mom with a wild lack of recognition. Not just that she didn’t know who Mom was; she had no idea what she was seeing at all and was completely lost. Izuku was almost as lost, really. “Ribbit…”

Ochako swayed lightly, gripping Izuku’s arm. “S-so - the frog was there before - did she come out of the frog…?!”

Izuku looked at the frog flesh and slime splayed on his bed. “…P…probably…”

His mom’s expression faded from extreme shock and confusion, to general surprise. “Izuku, Ochako, please explain - what is this mess - who is she-”

“I don’t know!” Izuku burst, shaking a little. “I don’t know! It was a frog before and now its a girl and Shouto didn’t tell me and I don’t know-”

“Izuku-”

“Izuku, baby, calm down,” Mom quickly crossed the room to him, softly taking his hands. “It’s okay, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry. Let’s have some tea, and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

“...O…okay.”

 _______________________________________________________________

 Tea with a splash of honey was always good. It warmed him down to his core. The girl seemed to also be enjoying it, if her regular sips were any indicator. Even if she was a bit tentative, slow, testing about it, each time.

His mom sighed heavily. “So, according to your story, she’s…”

Ochako hummed. “Yeah. I don’t believe it either. We should call Shouto.”

“He’d love this,” Izuku mumbled, staring into his tea. “He probably knows what…she is. I certainly don’t.”

“...Well,” Mom glanced at the girl. She had a permanent frown on her face. “We’ll deal with this tomorrow. Today, we’ll…well, It’s already five, isn’t it?”

Izuku dropped his head onto the table. “One hour. Please. I want sleep. I didn’t sleep at all.”

“Ditto,” Ochako also dropped her head, with a heavy thud. “No sleep. At all. I almost was asleep, but then Deku called…”

“Sorry…”

“’S alright….I wouldn’t wanna miss this.” She huffed a laugh. “Somehow, I’m glad I saw it live.”

Mom sighed again, sounding old. “Okay,” She said. “You only have about two hours, though. Remember, you both promised you would ride to school this year.”

Izuku groaned, muffling himself on the wood table. Ochako also whined. The girl watched the both of them curiously.

His mom agreed to watch the girl while they napped; Izuku was so not sleeping in his bed, so he took Mom’s bed instead. Ochako splayed out over one half of the king-sized bed while Izuku took up one third, sharing it because his mom’s bed was wonderful.

It was, without a doubt, the worst nap of his life. Because just as he was getting settled in and kind of almost sleeping, the six o’clock alarm on Mom’s bedside table buzzed loudly. Along with the knee Ochako unconsciously jammed halfway up his ass and her loud drool-snore-choke-drowning, he kind of wanted to die, to get some real sleep. The reason why he stopped sleeping in the same bed as Uraraka Ochako came back to him. Violently, in the form of a foot mysteriously journeying its way up his pants. She was just the weirdest sleeper.

He untangled himself from the covers and Ochako and trudged down the hall. He went to his room, intent on grabbing a shower before school.

He grabbed his clothes from his closet and was on his way to the bathroom before he suddenly recalled what happened last night. Where the fuck was that girl-

He ran around the house, looking for her and Mom - the car was gone from the driveway. His mom had work early in the day, so that was normal, but the girl was still nowhere to be seen. Where was she?!

He texted his mom urgently, and she responded, I left her at home. She should be there with you. Have a good day at school <3

One, was he really going to just leave her at home all day? And two, she was absolutely nowhere to be seen. He checked the kitchen, the living room, all the closets, both bedrooms, and their house was one floor and small as fuck, so there wasn’t many places to hide. She was gone.

And then Ochako screamed. Izuku could probably guess where frog girl was.

He ran to Mom’s room, and there she was, Ochako standing on the bed in a martial arts defensive position with frog girl sitting on the floor, blinking cluelessly, now dressed in spare clothes Ochako left here. But she still had such an alien air around her that it felt like the clothes didn’t quite fit her. She confounded Izuku on every level.

Izuku was cobbling together some way to react to the situation when his phone started ringing. He answered.

“H-hello?!”

“Is the frog okay?”

Shouto. Izuku felt a range of emotions, from relief to joy to murderous intent to numbness. “…It turned into a person, Shouto. A girl. Did you know this would happen!?”

A silence passed.

“Shouto?”

“...S-sorry, I…”

“Shouto, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” He sniffed faintly. “I wanted to see it.”

“You knew it would happen?!”

“No, but I had a feeling. Part of the witness reports described a frog standing on two legs like a person, and even people with frog-like features, y’know, like a person, but a frog.” Shouto sighed. “So either it was just one creature that could shapeshift to varying levels of frog to humanoid, or it was many creatures that were all varying levels of frog to humanoid. Like kappas or something.” Something tapped rhythmically in the background. “I wished I could’ve seen the shift. Do you still have the shed skin?”

“For what, Shouto,” Izuku was, frankly, pretty fed up. The frog girl was now on top of Ochako and very closely watching her, scanning her features. “What are you going to do with a giant frog flesh bag, Shouto.”

“Research.”

“Shouto.”

“Testing.”

“Shouto! You’re missing the-”

“Fine!” The other boy huffed roughly. “I’m gonna call Mei and cash in a debt to use her research facilities.”

“Shouto, I love you, but you have a C in chemistry. But that’s beside the-”

“She’s going to examine the frog skin, okay?! That’s it! Sorry I don’t have a genetics lab in my fucking basement!”

Izuku tried to be exasperated, but he ended up fighting back a smile. “N-no, Shouto, that’s not - I - whatever Mei has to do with it, it’s a nasty sack of frog skin, Shouto. I was talking more as in, ‘it’s absurd that you would want it, so why’, not ‘you don’t have the means to do anything with it, so why’.”

Shouto went quiet. “…” It was a long, self-depreciating quiet.

“Look,” Izuku said, smile fading, because fuck, Shouto drove him crazy sometimes. “Get your ass over here and help me decide what we’re going to do about her. She can’t stay here while we’re at school all day, can she?”

“I don’t see why not,” Shouto mumbled. “Can’t take her to school. Can’t let her loose.”

“Shouto, you have the skin, basically, so you have a model of what the crypid frog looks like, right? And proof?”

“Yeah. That’s the best part.”

“So do we really need to keep her?” Izuku watched as the girl tried to lick Ochako with a freakishly long tongue. Being a reasonable human being, the brown-haired girl was scrambling away before she made contact. “She’s…well, I mean, endangered species preservation, right? And - I dunno, what’re we gonna keep her for? She looks like a person, kind of…it’d be weird. Morally.”

“...How human does she seem?”

“One hundred percent. She has big eyes, but that can be passed off as a feature, y’know?” Ochako ran to the doorway - the girl opened her mouth wide, tongue flicking out, and it reached all the way across the room, wrapping around Ochako’s waist and pulling her back in. Izuku flinched as his friend shrieked. “…But her tongue is super long and weird, like a frog’s, and she currently has captured Ochako with it.”

“...Well, human meat doesn’t sit well with frogs, so she isn’t going to try to eat her. Unless she’s an adventurous type or something. I mean, she is a monster, so she’s probably full of surprises. Don’t trust her.” Shouto laughed, like this was a joke. Izuku didn’t find it very funny...How did he know that human meat doesn’t sit well with frogs…?

Ochako was released once she was dragged close enough for the girl to grab her. “So we’re just gonna leave her in my house for the day.”

“Yeah.”

“There are hazards everywhere, Shouto.”

“She’ll probably be fine.”

“But what if my Xbox isn’t, Shouto? What if she burns my house down, Shouto? What if she breaks my Xbox Shouto-”

“Forget about your Xbox,” Shouto snapped. Izuku gasped loudly. “It’ll be fine. She won’t mess with anything. I think. And like you said, if she escapes, it isn’t that bad. As long as the skin is still there, she exists. That’s all I need. I have to take a shower before school, I smell like black coffee and steroids. Later.”

And there he went. Almost angrily, Izuku pocketed his phone and said, “H-hey!”

Frog girl looked at Izuku boredly. “Help me,” Ochako begged, held captive by the two arms around her waist. Izuku debated the pros and cons of tearing her away from the literally mutant creature. What was the likelihood of survival?

“We have an hour before we meet up with Shouto,” Izuku stated flatly. “I’m taking a shower first.”

“No!” In a flash, Ochako twisted free of her bindings and was out of the room, and zooming down the hall. “You take all the hot water!”

Izuku sighed. Frog girl, covered in her own hair like she was drowning in it, stared at him with wide green eyes. He averted his gaze, nervously.

“U-uh, hi,” He said. Wow, could he be any more awkward? Well, she wasn’t human, so it wasn’t like she’d pick up on any of human societal nuances-

“Hi.”

She said. She fucking said. She said?! She said. She talked. She said words. She said ‘hi’. Whoawhoawhoa - it had to be simple parroting, it had to be just-

“Where did she go.”

Izuku felt the inexplicable urge to cry. “Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-”

Frog girl stared at Izuku, eyes peeking between strands of hair with a strange light. “Where is she.”

“I-I-I-I-I-d-d-d-d-on’t-”

She stood up, and walked past him with halting, almost jerking steps. She left the room, and looked one way, then the other. “…”

“O-O-Ochako?!” Izuku felt like curling up in a corner and sobbing wildly. He felt like he just looked into the void and it talked back to him. He felt a number of things, and all of them involved some level of existential terror. “Sh-she’s i-in the sh-shower…D-don’t-”

She was already on her way down the hallway. Izuku didn’t really think upsetting this being of mysterious and potentially reality-breaking power was a good idea. Technically, she was another girl, so it wouldn’t be that weird for her to walk in on Ochako, right? Uh.

Right on cue, Ochako screamed. Izuku groaned. By finding this cursed being, Shouto effectively turned his life upside down. For better or worse was yet to be seen. But from how Ochako was currently fighting frog girl out of her shower, it was probably for worse. Would his life ever go back to normal?

 _______________________________________________________________

 By some miracle, they managed to get on the road on time, meeting up with Shouto on the way. While he and Ochako rode very practical bikes, he rode a skateboard. Why, he refused to really tell. If he wasn’t wearing his school uniform, he’d look like he was in the wrong decade. And somehow the uniform made it look even tackier. But it was alright. It wasn’t like he was bad at it; in fact, he pulled many moves that were reminiscent of a certain famous skateboarder, but he was also from the wrong decade. Somehow, it suited him. He, to a concerning level, didn’t care what other people thought of him, so it was okay. Just weird.

“So,” Shouto said, cruising along with Ochako, keeping up easily despite having much smaller wheels. Also weird. “Show me a pic of her.”

“A what?” Izuku blinked.

“A picture.” Shouto raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take a picture.”

“...”

Ochako shrugged, rhythmically tapping her bell. “Didn’t think to.”

The boy huffed. “You guys are the worst,” He said. “How are we supposed to get proof that she shapeshifted if we didn’t get the after picture?”

“Shouto, I’m tired,” Izuku sighed. “I’m sorry. But this is way over my head. I’m not good at…this paranormal cryptid stuff. It’s fun when it’s just creepy stories, but - I dunno, this is too much.” He shuddered. “She talked. Just, started saying words. Like a normal person - super blunt and to the point, but it was like she said it like that on purpose. She knew. Just like that. And she was a frog before-”

“She talked?!” Shouto’s eyes lit up. “What did she say? What did her voice sound like? Ugh, I wish we got it on tape-”

“Shouto!” Izuku snapped. “Pay attention! Forget that stuff - I don’t want any part in it anymore! I’m scared! After school, we’re gonna let her go, and that’s gonna be the end of it! Okay!?” If there’s even a home to return to, Izuku thought bitterly.

Shouto stared at him, blankly. Then he looked away. “…Alright.”

Ochako whistled. “You guys fall out hard,” She said. “I give it…three days before one of you starts apologizing.”

Izuku’s face burned. He was the one apologizing, most of the time. But not this time, He thought resolutely. He wasn’t at fault here. Shouto was going to apologize to him, for dragging him into this mess in the first place.

 _______________________________________________________________

 [10:25 A.M.]

nessie: im dying. im actually dying

shouto: why

nessie: what the fuck is a lamange

nessie: mange is a disease

nessie: in french it means what??? food???? kill me

shouto: it means eat

shouto: pay attention in class and you might get it

nessie: fuck you

nessie: youre the last person i want to hear that from

shouto: ow

nessie: Rip Believe It Or Not

shouto: Ripley’s I Know This Stuff Is Real, But I Can’t Handle It, Dog

nessie: nibyguvtfcu

nessie: so you do get it

shouto: get what

shouto: what

nessie: oh my god

nessie: Oh My God

nessie: you are a national treasure

nessie: you know that

shouto: ??????

shouto: ?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!!what am I missing now

nessie: shut up for a minute teach coming

shouto: well I hope not thats a little inappropriate

---

[10:30 A.M.]

nessie: shouto holy shit what the fuck oh my god what the fuck

nessie: dude

shouto: yeah I sent that without thinking

shouto: and then I couldnt send a correction because

shouto: and yeah

nessie: dude

pppppppppppink: whats happening

pppppppppppink: oh wow what was that shouto hahahahha

shouto: oh my god look it was an accident

tenya: ochako its hardly fair to make fun of him for that

tenya: it was an honest mistake

nessie: tenya coughs, “unfortunately”

shouto: say that shit to my face deku

shouto: whos on the football team huh

nessie: surprised you caught that

nessie: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

shouto: i am going to kill you,

pppppppppppink: hey no death threats on my friendly christian minecraft server

nessie: deadmeme

tenya: yes, death threats are not the way to handle strife between friends

tenya: but neither were those insults, izuku

tenya: you know shouto’s skill does not warrant comments such as those

nessie: hes gonna get a coma i know it

tenya: what does that have to do with anything

nessie: football

nessie: caveman sport

tenya: that is inappropriate

shouto: dudedudedude look man

shouto: im sorry okay

nessie: FOR WHAT SHOUTO

shouto: I DONT KNOW

pppppppppppink: wow that was fast

tenya: please quiet teacher

------

[10:35 A.M.]

shouto: look man I dont know what youre so angry about

nessie: im not angry

pppppppppppink: izuku coughs, “im furious”

nessie: im n o t

tenya: izuku i believe you are, in fact, angry

nessie: im not angry

shouto: youre angry

nessie: SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK MAN

nessie: EXCUSE ME IF IM A LITTLE SHAKEN UP ABOUT YOU DROPPING A FUCKING FROG DEMON ONTO ME

shouto: i wouldve kept it if i could

shouto: but i forced it onto you without asking

shouto: sorry

nessie: “sorry if i valued a mythical creature above my friends feelings”

shouto: well fuck

shouto: i tried

shouto: yeah fuck you

shouto: i wouldve loved to have it

shouto: you love it when i talk to you about it so what the fuck is the difference

nessie: THEYRE JUST STORIES

nessie: S T O R I E S

nessie: I DONT WANT THEM TO BE REAL

nessie: ITS TOO MUCH

nessie: ITS SCARY

shouto: dude theres always a chance of the stories being real

shouto: you didnt know that

nessie: dontdothat

nessie: i dont want to think of them like that

nessie: no one wants them to be real

shouto: i do

nessie: yeah but ur a weirdo

tenya: foul

pppppppppppink: yeah try again

pppppppppppink: stay within bounds

nessie: are you reffing our fight

tenya: yes

tenya: go on

shouto: dude if you dont want any part of it then ill take her okay

shouto: okay?

nessie: that isnt it

nessie: because ur gonna be all weird about it and be all offended

nessie: bullshit

nessie: were gonna straighten this out here

nessie: rn

tenya: as a distraction in class.

nessie: sure

shouto: im not gonna be offended

pppppppppppink: hahahahhahahhha

shouto: im not

tenya: you will be offended

nessie: you will be offended

nessie: you dont think my fear is valid

shouto: being scared of it and pushing it away isnt going to make it disappear

shouto: theres a monster under your bed whether you want it to be there or not

nessie: oh my FUCKING GOD SHOUTO

nessie: THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT

nessie: YOU DONT LISTEN TO ME

shouto: i am

shouto: im doing nothing but listening to you

shouto: im getting on aizawas nerves

tenya: he means respect

tenya: you arent respecting him

tenya: as evidenced by you “twisting the knife”, for lack of a better term

tenya: you understand that stories of paranormal activities entertain him?

shouto: yes

tenya: the rift seems to lay in the fact that although he enjoys them as stories, he does not wish them to be real, intimate experiences

tenya: this is where you two seem to split

tenya: because you strive to live the stories

pppppppppppink: *is eating popcorn* marriage counseling :D

shouto: i mean who wouldnt

nessie: I DONT I DONT I DONT I DONT I DONT

nessie: NONONONONONONONO

nessie: UCK AMN DO YOU THIINK I WANNA FUCKING

nessie: THAT IS

nessie: NOOONONONONOONONO

shouto: shit man calm down

shouto: so it scares you

nessie: fuck yess??? you get it????finally????

shouto: why

[nessie has left the group chat.]

pppppppppppink: dude you messed up

shouto: .

tenya: i advise understanding

tenya: not everyone feels the same way you do

shouto: well duh

shouto: but it isnt scary

shouto: .

pppppppppppink: are you hearing yourself? finally?

pppppppppppink: not to be mean, ur just

pppppppppppink: really dense :D

tenya: to him, it is scary.

tenya: and thats just how he works

tenya: youll have to respect that

shouto: but its not scary

tenya: that is an opinion, shouto

tenya: not fact. it varies from person to person

tenya: you have to respect his opinion, shouto

shouto: .

shouto: god

shouto: fine

tenya: now what’s this about a “frog demon”?

pppppppppppink: ohohoohooho

shouto: first of all, it isnt a demon

pppppppppppink: do i have a story for you!

 _______________________________________________________________

 Izuku settled on giving Shouto the cold shoulder. It lasted out of school and on the way home, even as they pulled up to his house. Even as he kept pestering him with his constant, creepy, begging stare. Fuck him. Because if he talked first, he’d end up apologizing. And he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t the one at fault.

The frog girl was gone. They searched high and low, all over his house, but she was nowhere to be seen. Izuku found the frog skin wrapped up in the dumpster outside, and threw it at Shouto without a word. Shouto didn’t say anything, either.

“Hm,” Ochako popped a sucker into her mouth. “I changed my mind. Two days.”

Izuku grumbled, flushing bright red.

“I find this whole story a little hard to believe,” Tenya said, and Izuku felt a wild urge to punch him. “You mean to tell me that this so-called giant frog split open and turned out to be a young girl? Who is now missing?”

“Tenya, I wish it didn’t happen,” Izuku crossed the driveway, grabbing the taller boy by his quarterback shoulders. “I wish desperately that it didn’t happen. But it did.”

“Oh yeah,” Ochako said, nodding. “It was crazy. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been there.” With a shrug, she added, “Still kinda in doubt. It was super late.”

“Maybe it was a dream?”

“No,” Shouto said, coming up to show Tenya something on his phone. “Pictures. Video. It’s real. The frog, at least. I also have samples at home. I did some research - actually, there are some frogs that can grow up to about the size of our frog, but they can only live in equatorial Guinea. Without the girl, the skin only proves that a new species of giant frog lives in the area unless they map its genome or something.” He shrugged. “Not the story I was looking for, but cool nonetheless.”

“’Story’?” Izuku bristled. “What are you even looking for, Shouto? Why are you doing this at all?” Whoops. But he couldn’t help it. He’d been wondering it for a while, but this was the breaking point. Would he just hand the girl over to scientists for testing if he did have her? Would they take advantage of the fact that she isn’t human to do whatever they wanted? What was Shouto getting from this? Money? Fame? He wasn’t the type who would search out stuff like that, so what-?!

“Huh?” Shouto tilted his head. “...Why not? It’s fun.”

He could scream. Angrily, he stomped back to the porch, yanking open his door and ready to lock it behind him-

-and the kitchen was a mess, like a tornado whizzed around in the few moments they went outside. The dining table was on its side, chairs thrown around, cabinets raided and foodstuffs everywhere. The fridge was open, and judging from the aggressive clinking going on, someone was there. Izuku could probably guess who it was. But why now? She barely touched anything, earlier.

And then she peeked above the fridge door. Izuku screamed.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

if anyone knows how to color text please tell me because i spent a lot of time coloring the chat messages in the original doc and im sad it didnt carry so please and thank you tell me,

[flowingfloweringdrinks]

Welcome to my first blog post! This is a very self-serving blog in which I dump all of my innermost thoughts which are piling up like planes over Atlanta these days. It’s been less than two weeks and my inner dialogue MUST be heard! I chose this blog name for a few reasons:

1. It’s cute

2. If I stop blogging when the quarantine is over, hey, no judgment (I’m not great at sticking with projects)

3. It made me think of that Sesame Street feature where there was this small little cartoon character on the side of a drinking glass. They used (I assume) stop-motion animation to have the guy go from glass to glass and the theme song was, “Teeny Weeny Little Super Guy.” Anyone remember that? No? Just me? Cool.

Also as a public service I will be posting nature photos so that you have something to look at besides horrible virus warnings.

Speaking of which, today I did something I’ve never actually done before. I went on a run and then a bike ride back to back because OMG OUTDOORS, one thing I’ve certainly never done before. But during my bike ride every time I saw a plant or flower of interest I got off my bike and took a photo of it.

Many people are posting that the upside of this whole quarantine thing is that it gives us time to pause, stop, and reflect on life. Well, my first instinct is to just keep moving. Just keep swimming, as Dory would say. I got caught up on all my household chores. My house is cleaner than its ever been and in a twist of irony, I can’t invite anyone over to show it off. I hung pictures I’ve been meaning to hang for months. I repaired a necklace. I did art projects. I made videos for my job. And after all of this, I found out, none of those activities are meeting my need for social interaction.

I was getting depressed and it was time for ACTION! So I did something I swore I’d never do again, I signed up for another six months of Match.com. In the past, I’ve only had negative experiences from online dating. 100% negative. Which I guess is self-evident by the fact that I’m STILL SINGLE. But alas, I digress.

It turns out this whole quarantine situation has somehow created a uniquely ideal situation for me and my online dating. In no particular order, I shall list them below:

1. Volume. The sheer volume of responses has been overwhelming. Why? Because everyone is bored AF and lonely and most, like me, are stuck at home. I’m not the only one with the brilliant idea to turn once again to the world of online dating. It’s like that parable of Jesus and the fishermen. They didn’t catch anything all night of fishing and then he tells them to cast their nets again and they catch so many fish they can’t pull up their nets. I suppose comparing the Corona Virus and subsequent quarantine to JESUS is in horrible taste, but, welcome to my blog, mothafuckas! We gonna get politically incorrect as HELL up in here! And also cursing. Lots of cursing in my blog.

2. Clearly, volume does not a match make, so there must be other factors. And there are! Turns out finding out how someone is handling this quarantine is what I have termed, “Automatic Douchebag Indicator”. Here’s how it works: Step 1: message someone and ask them how they are handling the quarantine Step 2: If they say quarantine-shmarantine and then launch into a soliloquy about how this whole quarantine situation is ridiculous, then you block their ass. Dating hack. You’re welcome. And lest you think I’m making this up and that didn’t happen, I assure you it DID. I’m talking to you, Gideon. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

3. Social distancing. I tell you, my friends, social distancing + meeting people for the first time on a date = Heather’s Dream. Did I tell you about the time I went on a date and at the end of the date the guy said to me, “So are you gonna give me a side hug like you did last time or are you gonna give me a real hug?” I just met you, motherfucker, so forgive me for not wanting to press my boobies (small though they are) against your chest. Seriously, we’ve spent less than four hours together. Back. The. Fuck. Off. Needless to say I ghosted him (because I’m so great at confrontation. Should add that to my resume) and needless to say, he was puzzled by my lack of response. Here’s a question to all you guys out there: In the comments, tell me, would you rather have the naked and unvarnished truth about why I don’t want to see you any more, or would you rather be ghosted? There is no weird third thing. I’m not gonna lie to you or give you a fake reason. Your choices are truth or silence. I personally believe silence is the better option. So now if I don’t want to hug a guy on the first, second, or even 15th date, I don’t have to. Holding hands? EWWW!! Germs! GTFO! It takes me a few months to develop feelings for anyone so I figure, if I start going on my 6 feet of social distancing dates now, by the time I’m even remotely inclined to make physical contact with the guy, this quarantine will be over and I can jump his bones, all 200 pounds of me because you KNOW that’s how much I’m going to weigh after this thing is over. Culinary arts degree + too much time on my hands + making all the cocktails = cue “Chunky” song from Madagascar 2.

So I really have no idea how this whole dating thing is going to go, but the good news is that I am taking action! I am the master of my own destiny, if not my own density! Things I “always mean to do but never get around to” include meeting guys/dating and being a writer. Turns out this quarantine is forcing my hand and pushing me to do both of those things. I guess I should be grateful. It’s easier to feel happy on days like today when the weather is idyllic and I’m sitting on my front porch typing this and basking in the sun. Whether you are basking in the sun or staring at the rain, I hope you are making the best of this situation.

[gretagerwigcollection]

Greta Gerwig: My Mother, My City By Greta Gerwig  Greta and Chris Gerwig in Washington Square Park. Photo Credit Kathy Lo for The New York Times. Jan. 4, 2018

The first New Yorker I ever knew was my mother, Chris Gerwig. I grew up in Sacramento, and that was the only place I’ve ever known her to call home. She had, in fact, lived in Brooklyn briefly as a child, but that was not what made her a New Yorker. She had and has the spirit of a quintessential New York City gal. She’s brash and smart and tough and funny, and was always the mother my school dreaded a call from because she would push and push and push until she got what she wanted. I was the only kid who was allowed to take both band and Spanish because of her insistence. She has more go-get-’em energy than almost anyone I’ve ever met.

I was too young to remember New York City the first time I visited from Sacramento. My dad was there on business, and there are pictures of me at 2 years old toddling around Central Park, sitting on the statue of Balto the Alaskan sled dog hero and having “tea” with the “Alice in Wonderland” characters. In the photographs, my mom is right there beside me, looking like I do now, with her big (slightly gummy) smile and lanky arms and a desire to walk until she can’t walk anymore.

At 5, I visited a second time. We were staying with family friends who taught at Columbia. It was summer but also somehow gray. As a Californian I had never known a gray summer. It was the late 1980s, so New York still had something seedy and dangerous about it. There was a story of the professor’s wife walking into a drug deal going down in the hallway of their apartment building and how she street-smarted her way out of getting hurt. I didn’t understand drugs or mugging, but I did remember an anxiety that was indistinguishable from excitement. It felt a universe away from the kids-on-bikes town that was Sacramento. It seemed impossible that it was the same country. And yet somehow, it also felt like home.

Sacramento is a place where you can always see the horizon. It is flat and beautiful and open. But I loved the crowdedness of New York City, how when it rained it seemed like the buildings were raining, not the sky. My mom held my hand tight as she walk-sprinted through the city. She was in her element here; everyone was moving as quickly as she was. She was joyfully sweaty. So was I. The Gerwig women belonged in New York.

The only thing standing out from the concrete and asphalt were the neon lights advertising kicks of different stripes. Musicals, alcohol, women. (I had just learned to read, and the concept of “Live Nude Girls” was extremely interesting.) When we waited for hours to get rush tickets for Broadway shows, Mom befriended people in line, just as she makes friends everywhere (the grocery store, the D.M.V., the library). They became very invested in the little blond girl getting in to see the show. And I did: “42nd Street” with Jerry Orbach. “Gypsy” with Tyne Daly. “Cats” with cats. At night, back at the apartment, everyone would play music — my dad on trumpet; his friend, the piano; his friend’s wife, the tuba. Someone taught me how to play spoons. My mom would clap along, saying, “Your dad is the one with the talent” although she had talents that were less performative but no less impressive.

There were children in New York, of course, but they seemed confined to the playgrounds. “It’s a great place to have a family” is a true thing that is often said about Sacramento. To be a kid in Sacramento then was to be in the right place at the right time. Nearly everyone had a backyard; some people had pools and even their own personal jungle gyms; you could choose which kids were invited to slide and swim and swing. My mom did not believe in having your own play set. She thought it defeated the point of a playground, which was to make new friends and get comfortable with people who weren’t your family. In Sacramento, she would walk me down to McKinley Park. It was a couple of miles away, but it had the best playground. I was walking that distance with her by the time I was 4.

Later, when I told a boyfriend about the walk, he didn’t believe me: “That’s just a story your parents tell you.” He thought it was an exaggeration. But I am certain of its truth. My mother had raised me to be a walker, to be on the move. Two miles to the playground at 4 years old was real. My mom wasn’t my playmate, but she was the person who brought me out into the world and taught me that it was not scary. In New York, no one, not even the very wealthy, had their own private paradise; it had to be shared. City kids were good at playing, everyone was a stranger and everyone belonged. She had prepared me well.

But New York, ultimately, seemed to be a city of grown-ups. It was the adult world and I was a guest there. It was always past my bedtime, and all the normal rules were suspended. Once, my mom and I were in a cab (maybe we were late to something? My mom would never just “take a cab”) and I told her that the next day I wanted to wear my rock ’n’ roll outfit. It was a pink skirt and top with white guitars all over them. The cabby overheard and met my eye in the rearview mirror. He winked and said in a thick New York accent, “I’ll wait for you, doll.” Maybe now I’d think it was creepy; maybe my mom did think it was creepy; but at the time it was thrilling. New York was the place to be a grown-up, and I had to figure out how to get back.

At home in Sacramento, my mom took me to Tower Records to order the double cassette tapes of the original cast recordings of the musicals I had seen. She found me the best tap-dancing teachers in town to support my newfound love, and when I also expressed interest in hula dancing, she found the sole Polynesian dance group in Sacramento and signed me up. We had left New York, but she was still bringing as much of it as she could to me, with just as much bravado and hustle as the city itself.

When I finally made it back to New York to attend Barnard College, I was 19 and felt “Ah, yes, now life can really begin,” as if life hadn’t been going on before. Against explicit warnings not to, I climbed to the roof of my dorm to look down at the city below. It was my city, or I wanted it to be. But I had no idea which way was uptown and which was downtown. This place I had wanted so badly to be part of was still a mystery.

So I did the only thing that made sense to me. I got on the subway and rode it as far away as I could, deliberately getting lost to learn it. I spent the next several hours trying to find my way back without a map. Walking the streets and puzzling out how West Fourth Street could be right next to West 12th, I realized that I was doing alone what my mom had done with me years before. Walking, walking, walking, learning the city by foot, every inch. She was the reason I believed this was the proper way to introduce myself to the city. And the city felt like my mother. New York City felt like home because it felt like her.

A version of this article appears in print on Jan. 7, 2018, on Page AR16 of the New York edition with the headline: Greta Gerwig: My Mother, My New York.

[shirtlesssammy]

1x03: Dead in the Water

Then:

A Season One Aesthetic

Now:

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

We open to a quaint family tableau: father, daughter, and son. The daughter is a bit of a health nut and heads to the lake for a morning swim. If this brand new baby of a show hadn’t been named “Supernatural”, the under the water shots of her swimming would tip us off that something creepy is about to go down. The woman hears voices and is suddenly sucked under the water. We then are shown 2.5 hours of bubbling water. SUSPENSE.

Dean Winchester is on the case though! (Natasha: Look at these precious babies, still using printed newspapers to research cases!) Bby is a bit thirsty for a buxom server to really care about Sam’s slight bitchiness that their dad is still missing (I’ll always remember my resounding, insistent questioning about where their father was when I watched this the first time. Lol, John Winchester is coming back for episode 300, and I no longer am chomping at the bit for this. Ok, so like, yeah, I think it’ll be good --it better be cathartic for the brothers, especially Dean, who’s changed and grown so much since his father has died. Instead of writing this recap, let me write a 1000 word essay on the return of John Winchester.) Dean makes it very clear that he wants to find their dad, but until then, they’re going to hunt everything they can. 

Wildlife Agents Ford and Hamill are on the case. They interview the brother, who tells them his sister was an expert swimmer and nothing was amiss about the lake that day. Sam wants to interview the father but “he’s kind of been through a lot.”

They head to the sheriff’s office. Ha, the sheriff insists that there’s nothing in the lake big enough to pull a human under, “unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.” (We won’t learn for several seasons that the Loch Ness Monster is actually real. I wonder if the brothers know that at this point.) In the process of explaining the unexplainable, the sheriff spills that the dam is falling apart. In 6 months, there won’t be a lake --or a town for that matter.

The sheriff’s daughter and grandson pop in. Dean turns the creep factor up a bit at the daughter, Andrea, but turns on the soft father-type he really is when he sees the grandson, Lucas. Lucas doesn’t respond to Dean, and his grandfather admits he’s “been through a lot.”

Andrea walks Dean and Sam over to their motel. Dean tries engaging her in conversation, but she sees right through his weak style. “Must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find yourself to a decent pick up line.” BURN.

Although, Sam calling Dean out on not loving kids is rich. WE KNOW HE DOES --but Sam doesn’t at this point. (Sidenote: Dean counting with his hands and scratching the back of his head. That’s it. That’s the sidenote.)

Sam’s research reveals that whatever is haunting the lake, it’s picking up its pace. There have been disappearances over the years, but it’s becoming much worse. They discover that Lucas is the only witness to what’s happening in the lake. He was out with his father a couple months before when his father drowned. Yeah, I guess this kid has been “through a lot.” Dean’s empathy with Lucas breaks me.  

The brothers track Andrea and Lucas down at a park. Dean heads to talk with Lucas while Sam stays with Andrea. Dean’s beyond the flirting stage, and wants to get to the bottom of this case. He also has a major soft spot for a kid in pain. BRB, crying.

Dean tries engaging a mute Lucas with reminiscing about green plastic army men. BRB, crying. (GOD! There are really some things that can hit you A LOT harder on a rewatch.) Dean asks to sit and draw with Lucas. He has an artist’s eye (WHERE’S THE DEAN IS AN ARTIST FANFIC, YOU HEATHENS.)  Dean then proceeds to start drawing and, lit by nothing but soft, reflective music, talk to Lucas about his own childhood trauma. He tells Lucas that he’ll listen if Lucas wants to talk (or draw).

Dean reconnects with Sam as Andrea tells how traumatized Lucas is. Lucas walks up and hands Dean a picture of a house.

That night, the father of the victim sits morosely in the dark, his son insisting he eat something (Sidenote: I love how the budget was so tight in early seasons of Supernatural that they couldn’t afford lighting.) While the son preps dinner, the sink water turns black and starts bubbling up from the drain.

Ok, Asshole, we’ve all seen It. Do you want to float too? Ugh. Apparently so, because bro sticks his hand in and gets sucked under. The water eventually drains away to reveal his dead face.

Upon learning about the latest lake victim, Sam and Dean quickly put it together that whatever is haunting the lake is in a race against time. It can reach out beyond the lake, and it will take what it can, while it can. The brothers go to visit the victim’s father, Bill Carlton. He’s in a deep state of grief, and in no place to talk. Dean thinks he’s also hiding something. He also notices that the drawing of a house Lucas gave him matches the Carlton home.

They go to talk with Lucas. Dean asks Lucas about his drawing, and feels that Lucas is scared. (Dean admitting he leads his life the way he feels others want him to. BRB, crying.) Lucas gives Dean another picture of a boy and a bike.

For Pained Boy Noir Science:

In the car, Sam spins out theories that Lucas is experiencing trauma-induced psychic visions. (I wonder if they'd planned Sam's psychic arc at this point?) (Later edit: They DID! Excellent!) Sam also tries to address Dean's revelation about seeing their mom die, which Dean shrugs off with his signature macho deflection. Damn it, Dean.

They find the church and the yellow house that match up to the drawing Lucas gave Dean and head in to investigate. An elderly woman lives there who tells them about the disappearance of her son 35 years ago. “Losing him – it's worse than dying.” Dean finds an old photo of the missing boy and Bill – the father from the cold open.

Cut to Bill sitting on the end of the dock addressing the water, saying that he finally understands what it wants. Losing his children is “worse than dying.” When Dean and Sam arrive, he's already piloting a boat out into the water. His boat gets thrown into the air and...game over.

Back at the Sheriff's, Lucas is freaking out. He grabs Dean, distressed, but can still say nothing. Dean looks after him as he leaves, equally distressed.

For OH NO, DEAN BEAN Science:

Later, the Sheriff interrogates Dean and Sam, telling them that he knows they're not Fish and Wildlife Service. Uh, yeah, no kidding! They start to leave town but Dean changes his mind and heads back. Sam's surprised.

Dean: I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.

Sam: Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?

Dean: Shut up.

Natasha: What Dean said.

Meanwhile, Andrea is preparing an extremely full bath. She relaxes into it as brackish water begins pouring in through the tap. Suddenly something grabs her and tries to pull her down into the bathtub. Dean and Sam arrive during the attack and Lucas opens the door for them and leads them to the bathroom.

Dean kicks down the door (Mmmmhmmmm) while Sam drags Andrea from the bath, fighting the spirit’s fierce hold. They save her! Yay! But that nice wood floor is ruined, man.

(Sidenote: I love how this episode was filmed. There are so many interesting shots through windows and mirrors, as though these are reflections or looking through the surface of water. Well done, show!)

The next morning Sam gently interrogates Andrea while Dean researches through old family albums. He finds a picture of the Sheriff – Jake - as a young boy, in a Boy Scout troop photo with Bill and the missing boy, Peter. A clue! 

Lucas interrupts them by staring intently outside, and he leads them to a patch of moss. Sam and Dean dig, only to find Peter’s red bicycle buried in the ground.

Jack interrupts the Winchesters and pulls a gun on them, asking them how they knew the bicycle was there. Ooof. How did YOU know it was there, buddy? “You can't bury the truth,” Sam tells him. Dean tells Jack that the kid they killed is haunting the lake and plans to kill Andrea and Lucas AND Jack. They need to burn and salt the remains. Andrea runs out to talk to her dad and asks him for the truth. She reminds him that her husband died and tells him she was recently attacked. Jack begins to break down. He tells her that he and Bill bullied Peter. They held his head underwater too long and he drowned. The body sank into the lake.

They're making plans to leave the lake when they notice Lucas leaning over the end of the dock.

They race to pull him away, but it's too late. A gray arm reaches out of the water and drags Lucas in. 

While Sam and Dean dive into the water to search for him, Jack wades into the lake pleading with Peter's ghost to take him instead. Andrea watches it all from the dock and HELLO, TRAUMA.

Jack gets pulled down into the suddenly crazy deep lake. Meanwhile Sam emerges from the water and shakes his head sadly. NOOOOO.

Suddenly Dean bursts up out of the water with Lucas in his arms! Lucas is limp :( :( :(

The next day, Sam and Dean get ready to leave town. “We're not gonna save everybody,” Sam tells a sad Dean. NOOOOOOO. Just then, Andrea calls to them and she and Lucas approach! Oh, show, good job tricking me. They've brought them lunch! Lucas is speaking again! Andrea is super cute!

Andrea and Sam wrap up the case. Andrea’s seeking some closure and peace with the loss of her father. Dean and Lucas share a different farewell. Dean teaches Lucas to say, “Zepp rules!” Oh, Dean. I’d say never change, but I enjoy the journey.

Dean gets a kiss from Andrea. Dean's adorable about it and SOFT. Then Dean Bean ushers Sam back to the car. Time to hit the road! On Netflix, we get played out with some random pop song but on the originally released show Bad Company's "Movin' On" starts to play and they head out to the next hunt.

Natasha: This episode holds a special place in my heart because it's the moment when my eyes were open to Dean Winchester in all his traumatized, dutiful, and soft glory. I loved the little glimpses we get into the loss of Mary and the effect that had on Dean. This episode reads like a thesis statement on macho Dean and his underlying softer layers – from his empathy with Lucas to his use of Ford and Hamill surnames for their cover. (Boris: HARD AGREE)’

Still Searching for the Quote-Ness Monster:

We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?

I’m Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamill. We’re with the U.S. Wildlife Service.

Kids are the best, huh?

Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.

Watching one of your parents die isn’t something you just get over.

Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.

My mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave.

Zeppelin rules!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[muse-matters]

Fay World (Draft)

It took Gwen ten minutes to explain to the deputies from the San Bernadino Sheriff’s Department that the enchanted green and purple bonfire currently lighting up her parent's backyard was harmless and entirely legal under the Mythic Magic Act. As she talked and answered their questions, they nodded but their eyes remained skeptical and their hands rested on their weapons. It was the kind of uneasiness Gwen had come to expect from most humans, especially humans confronted with a large group of Mythics.

“Look why don’t you come and see for yourself?” She gestured to the house. Though it was still two hours to midnight it was as bright as dawn, the electric lights inside combining with the bonfire and the tiny magical lights hanging in the sky. The babble of voices and laughter intertwined with the distant melody of someone playing a pipe and Mythics of all shapes and sizes were scattered across the unnaturally green lawn.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. We don’t want to interrupt your party.”  The junior deputy said with barely concealed apprehension. Gwen tried not to smile at how easy they were to get rid of.

“Well then if there is nothing else?” She looked between them and her eye caught on something, or rather someone, behind them. If the officers had looked they wouldn’t have noticed anything but since the age of ten, Gwen had learned to detect the slight shimmer that came when Jack, her brothers best friend, went invisible. She gritted her teeth as he flitted about the car and hoped that whatever mischief he was up to wouldn’t land them all in trouble.

She focused back on the officers as they made their goodbyes and gave the standard warning about the penalties of illegal magic. She assured them again doing her best to look relaxed. They got into their car and Gwen held her breath, waiting for Jack’s trick to manifest. When the car was halfway down the long gravel drive and nothing exploded or seemed wrong she let it out in a whoosh.

There was a chuckle beside her.

“What did you do to the car?” She asked the night air.

“Something they won’t trace back to their visit here.”  She could hear the smile in his voice.

“They better not or I swear this time I will turn you in.”

“You are no fun.” Jack appeared before her, stepping into the night as if parting a curtain. Unmasked, his magic hit her; strong and unmistakably wild. Her traitorous heart skipped a beat, he was too close. She tipped her head to meet his deep green eyes.

“We have different definitions of fun”

“You used to like my tricks.” He said with a pout that didn’t fool Gwen for a second.

“That was when I was a kid and thought you and Owen were cool.” She didn’t add it was also when she’d had a ridiculous crush on him.

He gasped theatrically and placed his hand on his heart. “How dare you imply I am not cool.”

In spite of herself, Gwen smiled. “You are trouble.”

“Actually I’m a puka.”

“Same thing.”

He grinned wide enough for his dimple to flash and dipped his head as if acknowledging a compliment. His white-blonde hair looked purple in the bonfire light and Gwen tried not to notice how attractive he looked. He really was trouble. As a puka Jack was a natural born trickster and never let something as trivial as human laws get in the way of having fun. Worse he was always dragging Owen into his schemes and landing Gwen’s simple guardian faerie brother in jail.  

A roar followed by laughter and cheering sounded from the bonfire.

“Looks like the dwarves have started brawling,” Gwen said.

Jack chuckled as he turned from her. “Trouble calls.” Then he stepped back into the air disappearing into the night.

Gwen shook her head, telling herself she was glad to be rid of him. Without really thinking about it she pulled out her phone to text her sister, Elaine, knowing she would understand.

Jack is the worst

Gwen stared at the screen and the five previous messages she had sent with no reply. Unlike Gwen, Elaine was hard to get a hold of and always traveling. Ostensibly she was hunting for a gateway back to the Otherworld but from her social media, it seemed the only thing she was hunting was the best photo-op. Despite her trooping faerie ways, this was the first year Elaine had missed the annual Samhain party. Gwen had been up since dawn working with her mother to accomplish what was usually a three-person job. Though working in the kitchen was vastly preferrable to making small talk with the gnomes from Arizona, Gwen couldn’t help but be resentful that her sister had left her to face the party alone.

She put her phone back in her pocket as she weaved through the various vehicles, motorbikes, pedal bikes and a school bus painted neon green that littered the driveway and front lawn. Though many guests had arrived via magic more and more Mythics were growing practical and adapting to human modes of transportation, thanks in part to the recent changes in the laws. Changes that Gwen had helped enact, not that any of them knew or cared.

The porch step creaked as she trudged to the door. If Gwen didn’t go back into the kitchen to report about the police her mother would send someone looking for her. Steeling herself she opened the door and stepping inside.

The various types of magic, overwhelming and impossible to sort out the origins, hit her like jumping naked into a glacier lake. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself that it would be easier once she adjusted to it. As she struggled to acclimate Gwen scanned the room for her mother.

She wasn’t part of the knot of pixies that were listening to Amy Takanaka. By the laughing and sly look in the kitsune’s eyes Gwen assumed she was telling about tricking her latest human boy toy. Even knowing that Mythics existed Amy still managed to fool a surprising number of men. Beyond them was Henrik, a tall, lean, Nordic elf, talking to Chetna. The naga’s snakelike eyes looked mildly interested so Gwen guessed that she didn’t yet need saving from Henrik discussing his pet wolf’s bowel movements. Scanning further over the eclectic assortment of Mythics filling the room Gwen realized her mother must be in the kitchen.

She was wondering if it would be easier to sneak outside and around the house when a frisson of magic pulled her up short. It pressed upon Gwen, making every hair stand up and her heart pound. Liquid smoke wrapped around her legs before pouring itself into the shape of a human woman in front of her.

Gwen didn’t know if all jinni had the same annoying habit of ostentatious materializing but for as long as she could remember it was how Afiya had moved even short distances. The pressure of the magic eased as Afiya took form and Gwen gave a sigh.

“If you spent more time around magic it wouldn’t affect you so strongly,” Afiya said before its mouth had fully formed.

“Nice to see you too, Auntie.” Gwen gave a sweet smile. Ignoring the advice Afiya had already given her a hundred times. Afiya was a family friend and one of the first Mythics Gwen’s parent’s had met when they came to America. Sensing its unique, powerful magic they had followed it to a cave in Death Valley. Afiya, like so many American Mythics, was a refugee and luckily had taken a liking to Branwen and Cormac despite their British origins.  

Afiya wrinkled its nose, it had chosen an aristocratic one this time. “You even smell human. Our kind was never meant to spend so much time with humans.”

“So you have told me. Just as I have told you that it’s a good job, doing important work for all Mythics.”

“Your generation! The very idea of taking worthless pieces of paper and plastic instead of bartering is offensive.”

Gwen didn’t bother pointing out that Afiya’s power made it easy to disdain currency because it didn’t need it to survive. Just as it didn’t care about the Mythic laws Gwen worked on because humans couldn’t enforce them on it.

“You need to spend more time with your sister. She will teach you how to be a true guardian faerie. Where is she?”

“Not here.” Gwen couldn’t keep the sharpness from her voice.

“And you resent her for that? She is doing the work she is meant for, the most important work of all. All of this nonsense about taking orders from humans will cease when your people finally open a gateway back home.”

As it spoke Afiya began to turn smudgy at the edges and its eyes, shifted from a deep blue to an unnatural orange. Magic rolled off of it in waves and Gwen gritted her teeth to keep herself from an angry retort. With a huff, the jinni abandoned its form entirely and became a swirl of smoke that spun up to the ceiling. Gwen hoped it went out the chimney and didn’t come back so that she wouldn’t be tempted to tell it how wrong it was.

While it was true that Gwen and her family were guardian faeries and that their kind had always been the keepers of the crossroads, with abilities to both sense where doorways were possible and to open them between the worlds. It was also true that no doorway had been opened for 26 years, almost all of Gwen’s life. Afiya talked of going home but America was the only home Gwen had ever known.  

Pulling out her phone she sent Elaine another message.

I almost yelled at Afiya. This is what happens when you aren’t here to run interference.

As an afterthought, she added a smiley face so Elaine wouldn’t think she was angry.

“Hey.”

Gwen looked up to see her brother Owen approaching.

“Hey.” She put her phone away.

They were of a height, his purple eyes a match to hers, but his hair was short and grass green, framing his pointed ears while hers was dyed black and shoulder length, ears safely hidden. The excess magic in the room didn’t seem to be bothering him at all as he smiled and took a bite of a honey cake that Gwen had helped make that morning. Exhaustion swept over her and she longed to grab his cake and go hide in her old bedroom.

“What did you say to Afiya?” Owen waggled his eyebrows and Gwen was sure he had a good idea of the conversation.

“I was polite. Afiya just doesn’t want to accept the truth.”

“You mean your truth that the doorways are locked forever?”

“Remind me how many doorways you have found in your ten years of looking?”

“Ouch, little sister, no need to rub it in. And to think I was going to give you a gift.” Out of the air he produced another honey cake and offered it to her with a smile. The small magic was a party trick Jack had taught them when they were younger, though Gwen had never managed to master it.

“What do you want?”

“Can’t I just do something nice?”

Gwen raised her eyebrows.

“Fine,” he said. “I got into a bit of legal trouble and I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Ow-en.” She half groaned.

“It’s not a big deal. We don’t even have to talk about it now. Just after the party before you go back to L.A.”

“Okay. After the party.” He broke into a grin and she held up her hand “But I need two more honey cakes and you have to run interference with Mom for the next hour.”

“Done.”

They didn’t shake on the bargain but Gwen knew it to be magically binding by the zing up her spine. Normally she wouldn’t make a bargain so cavalierly but Owen was her brother she trusted him not to take advantage. In quick succession, Owen produced two more cakes. Gwen took them with a smile.

“I’m going upstairs to my room,” she said.

“I will make sure you are undisturbed.”

“And tell Mom there were no issues with the police.”

He gave a mock salute before turning and plunging back into the crowd towards the kitchen. Gwen went the opposite direction to the sagging old staircase.

#

Laying in her old bed Gwen sucked the last bit of honey from her fingers. The full moon streamed through the window bathing the dark room in silver. Below and outside the party continued but at this distance the gathered magic faded into the background like hearing the pounding of waves from a beach house instead of having them break over her and drag her into the ocean.

Her families first Samhain party had been a small affair, just her parents, a nymph named Laurel they had met on their way to America, five-year-old Owen, three-year-old Gwen, and one-year-old Elaine. They had made the traditional foods and stayed up until midnight trying to catch glimpses into the world that had been suddenly closed to them. But there had been nothing to see, the Otherworld was hidden from them even on the night when the barrier between worlds was thinnest. Owen said that they sang songs and danced under stars until dawn in defiant joy but Gwen only remembered the feeling of emptiness and the desolation on her mothers face.

The next year, after her parents had made countless Mythic friends traveling the country, their small apartment had been bursting with guests and the party held a week before Samhain. Her parents had said it was to avoid upsetting their human neighbors by having so many Mythics gathered together on a day of power but Gwen was never sure that was exactly true. Especially because it seemed every year, no matter where they were living, the police were always called about the party. Gwen was wondering who had called them this year when she heard a thud from Elaine’s room.

Holding her breath she sat up and strained her ears, which were more acute than a human’s. Over the sounds of the party, she heard the faintest of footsteps and the scrape of a chair. Gwen frowned. Who could possibly have a reason to be in Elaine’s room? If it was a hobgoblin looking to do some cleaning in exchange for more food she wasn’t going to stand for it.

But when she got to Elaine's doorway the occupant wasn’t three foot and hairy nor was he cleaning. The stranger appeared to be almost six feet and was inspecting the contents of a desk drawer a red ball of faerie fire glowing above his shoulder.

Gwen switched on the electric light. The stranger reared up hitting his head on his faerie fire and cursing.

“What are you doing?” Gwen demanded as she stepped into the room.

He turned to her scowling as he rubbed the back of his head. “Was that necessary?”

“What? Who the hell are you? And why are you snooping in my sister's room?” Gwen crossed her arms trying to figure out just what kind of Mythic he was.

“Just exploring.” He flashed her a smile that would have been charming under different circumstances before continuing in a smooth accented voice, “Sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me.” Gwen wondered if she should be scared of his magic but when she tried to feel for it all she got was the weak pulse from the faerie fire. “You’re human.”

“And you are a Mythic.” He tipped his head slightly, and a dark curl slipped onto his forehead. His face was narrow and handsome despite the slight crook in his nose.

“Why are you here?” Gwen looked at the open desk drawer. There was nothing but junk in it. Elaine didn’t really use it but this man clearly didn’t know that and his accent made it unlikely he was a local attracted by the light and noise.

“I was invited by my friend. Couldn’t pass up a chance to see a real Mythic bash.”

“What’s your friend's name?”

“John.” He barely paused but Gwen knew in her gut he was lying. She hated liars.

“No, you’re not.”

His lips twitched. “No, I’m not. Quite clever aren’t you.” He smiled and it was sharp at the edges. “Well, now that we have established that I don’t belong here shall we make a deal?”

Gwen frowned. Nothing good could come from a bargain with this man but she had finally placed his accent, some variety of British, and in spite of herself she was intrigued.

“What would be your terms?” She asked.

“I will tell you who I am, why I am here, and leave immediately if you answer one question.”

“What question?”

“First promise.”

Gwen put her hands on her hips. “I am not stupid enough to agree to anything without knowing the full terms. Especially with a human who could easily break their word.” Human’s had a choice in bargains but for her it was always magically binding. A fact she had learned painfully as a child.

“So untrustworthy.” He gave a shake of his head. “Alright. I want to know where Elaine is.”

Ice stabbed Gwen’s heart. What had Elaine gotten mixed up in now? “I will tell you what I know about where Elaine is if you tell me who you are, why you are here and leave immediately.”  She hoped he hadn’t noticed her change to his wording. But his smug smile eased her fears.

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.” Gwen felt the zing up her spine sealing the bargain. “You first.”

He grinned broadly like a poker player about to lay down a winning hand. “I’m a private investigator and I am here because my employer suspects that your sister kidnapped Vivian Jamison. My job is to find Elaine and turn her into the authorities.”

“What? That’s insane. Elaine and Vivian are friends. She wouldn’t kidnap her.”

He shrugged. “And yet Vivian Jamison is missing and was last seen with your sister. Elaine’s innocence or guilt isn’t really my business. I am here to find her, turn her into the authorities and collect my money.”

Gwen was appalled by his naked avarice. This was her sister's life they were talking about. She thought of all the unanswered texts and her stomach clench in panic.   

“When did Vivian go missing?”

“That wasn’t part of the agreement. Now tell me where is Elaine?” He stepped closer.

Gwen wanted to throttle him and his smug smirk, he had deliberately given her information so she would know she was selling out Elaine. She was now grateful for how little she knew.

“I don’t know where she is. The last time we spoke she was in Edinburgh.”

He glared and took another step into her space. “She was in Edinburgh five days ago. You agreed to tell me where she is now.”

“No. I agreed to tell you what I knew about where she is. That’s all I know. My end of the bargain is met.” She felt the confirming coldness wash over her. She owed this man nothing.

“But you have an idea of where she might have gone or where she might be?”

This time she stepped toward him with a sickly sweet smile. “That wasn’t part of the agreement. Now leave before I call my jinni friend up here to make you leave.”

She was close enough to see that his eyes were a deep blue as they flashed and he looked on the verge of arguing but then he broke into a laugh that took all the bravado out of Gwen. She stepped away confused.

“Well played, little fae.” He sat on the desk and eyed her speculatively “You know there is no reason for us to be enemies.”

“You are trying to get my sister pinned for kidnapping.”

“If the price was right I could be convinced to help you instead.”

“So all you care about is your payday?”

“A man’s got to eat.”

Gwen felt sick at his words. She wasn’t even sure if he was being honest or if this was just another attempt at getting information from her.

“I don’t need the help of a human bounty hunter to find my sister.”

He considered her for a long moment before nodding. Then he reached into his black motorcycle jacket and pulled out a card. “In case you change your mind.”  When she didn’t move to take it he set in on the desk. He gave her one last smirk before sauntering past her and down the stairs.

She watched from the top step as he closed the front door and then went to Elaine’s window and watched him jump into an unremarkable sedan with California plates. Only when his taillights had disappeared into the dark did she move to go find Owen.

[anicegaystory]

Proceed with Caution

What is a good adventure without misadventure? When have you ever heard tales of a journey without its appropriate amount of hurdles? More importantly, when have you ever heard tell of a story about two young girls, at the cusp of their 20s, travelling Europe without AT LEAST one tale of a creepy dude? Zero. Zero times you’ve heard that story.

For my first tale, I wanted to get one of the creepiest out of the way. It’s not meant to spook you from jetting off on your own pilgrimage, but simply to prepare you to be aware of your surroundings and the people in them. Sure, looking back on it, I do laugh a little about it, but that is because we are safe now and oh boy were we small town naive idiots! Truth be told, it was such a surreal, and I guess traumatic experience, I honestly almost completely blocked the whole thing out! Brains are weird like that eh? I had to rely almost entirely on Sam for this one. So buckle up!

After what I can only describe as one of the most memorable 24 hours in Berlin, Sam and I …

… I should probably take a moment here to explain to all of you who may not know who Sam is!

Samantha Vanderaa (Soon to be Samantha Skauge! Woo!), is not only one of my first cousins, but has always been one of my closest friends.

I believe it was late 2010 when she decided that she wanted to travel Europe with me before I flew back home to Canada after having been living in England for the better part of 2 years. I had recently gone through a rough patch/break up/I don’t even fucking know with my first girlfriend, and Sam was going to be my knight in shining armour. We planned almost all of the trip via facebook chat, and although I am sure I will be composing a post entirely about how important that was to me, for now let’s just say it was super fucking important to me.

Alright where were we? Right! Berlin, Germany, July 2011. Packing up our rucksacks and mentally preparing for a 15 hour train journey to Florence, Italy. After having been out the night before on the most eventful pub crawl of my damn life, this was quite daunting. We were tired, we were dirty, and, unfortunately, NOT INTERESTED in some famous German sausage for brekkie.

As far as I remember, the first leg wasn’t too bad. I was pretty dozy, but I do remember flashes of incredible castles nestled in enormous rolling hills between Berlin and Munich. It was after the train switch in Munich where things got a bit dicey.

We were extremely cheap and stretched EVERY dollar for the entirety of this trip, so after purchasing a EuroRail Pass pre-trip, we assumed we shouldn’t need to budget anything for travel costs outside of snacks. This was the second time we were made quite aware that was not the case and after travelling from Amsterdam to Berlin on the floor outside of a bathroom, we decided to shell out a few Euros for this ride! So, we chose the cheapest option, a standard car (very much like what you would see in Harry Potter).

After getting settled, we were pretty pleased with the arrangement, and as the departure time was approaching, it was looking like we were going to have the car to ourselves. No such luck.

Two men joined us in the final moments before leaving the station. This was extremely unfortunate as we, thinking we would have the place to ourselves, were sitting across from each other causing each man to have to sit next to us. This was our first poor decision.

The men did not appear to be travelling together, because they never spoke to each other and one of them sat down next to me and almost immediately appeared to fall asleep which is how he remained for the entirety of the ride. Being as hungover as I was, and the general exhaustion of the first 8 hours of travel, I also started to doze off. The other guy sat next to Sam.

At this point, Sam just popped her headphones in with the hopes that she could just make it to Florence listening only to the sounds of her premade travel playlists. A pipedream apparently, as the man next to her just wanted to talk, and wow did he have a lot of questions for her. He even had the gall to ask if he could listen to her music with her!

At some point, all of this odd exchange had woken me up, and from that point on we were both on high alert. There was just something really “off” about him. He kept asking extremely particular questions about where we were going, what we were doing when we got there and where we were planning to stay. We did our best to play dumb, saying we really weren’t sure yet and that we were just figuring things out as we went. This was all obviously a lie, I mean there were some places that we definitely just flew by the seat of our shorts, but this was not one of those times.

He began to urge us to go with him and stay at his sister’s place for free, telling us that he would sort out a ride when we got to the station and to not worry about anything, just go with him when we stopped.

WELL, as I’m sure you all agree, no fucking thank you, SIR!

At one point he told us that he was going to grab something to eat and asked if we wanted anything. We didn’t. Once he left, we grabbed our shit and BOLTED.

We managed to find a sort of storage car full of bikes and junk, and hunkered down in the far back corner together. We even made a makeshift wall with our packs.

“I remember just being huddled up together watching Alice in Wonderland on the screen of my iPod classic [...] just trying to stay awake and trying to hide from this guy.”

- Sam

We honestly really thought we had escaped him and fully intended on staying right where we were until we hit Florence, but then he randomly showed up in the storage car and just started shouting at us. He kept telling us how disrespectful we were for disappearing, how he was looking everywhere for us and that he was just trying to be a nice guy and show some hospitality and that he bought us Kit Kat bars.

So, at this point, we are properly freaked the hell out and trying to explain to him that we just went for a walk to stretch our legs and that we would be back in a bit. Just doing and saying whatever we could to not be trapped alone with him in the back corner of a fucking storage car!

He warned that if we were not back to our seats, in the standard car that we chose to pay for to experience a little comfort, in fifteen minutes, he would be back to find us because, “there are creeps on this train and it isn’t appropriate for two young girls to be alone.”

What a freaking Saint, am I right?!

Anyways, we spent that fifteen minutes just weighing our options and trying not to have simultaneous panic attacks. Obviously we can’t stay here, alone in a storage car without witnesses, he knows where to find us. We can’t find somewhere else to sit we already glanced in the other cabins to find them all full up. What do we do?!

We landed on jumping off wherever the train stopped, if it made another stop during that fifteen. It didn’t. Maybe y’all have a better idea, but at this time, we decided to gather our shit and go back to our original seats. Where he was. Because we are really just so stupid.

He continued to be really needy/creepy, as expected, but this time we sat side by side, cuddled up together and did our best to ignore him.

When the train FINALLY stopped in Florence, after what felt like a damn eternity, he continued to aggressively urge us to go with him to his sister’s place and would not take No for an answer. He instructed us to stay put while he called her from the payphone. He walked over, popped in his coins and stared at us across the platform.

During this time another train had arrived and the crowd of people disembarking wandered through between us and him and at the same time he seemed somewhat distracted by his phone conversation. We decided that this was our moment to escape whatever the hell he had planned for us, good intentions or not, and we just ran. We ran as fast as we possibly could, even though we hadn’t slept all night, even though we were carrying half of our body weight in bags on our backs, adrenaline powered us all the way to the first bus we could find. We jumped on just as it was about to leave the station. We had literally no idea where it was going and we didn’t care. As the bus rolled out of the station’s lot, we could see our creepy friend searching for us on the platform as we hunched down in our seats leering cautiously out the window.

We only rode for a couple of stops before we decided to jump off and figure out where we were and how to get to our hostel. To our misfortune, we found ourselves in a relatively desolate area and it was mid-July in Italy. Now, I’m not sure if many of you understand what that means to two Canadian girls so let me just lay it out for you. It was STUPID fucking hot!

We spent the next 45 minutes lugging our packs around in the incredible heat before we managed to land a cab to take us to Camping Firenze Hostel (which was fucking incredible by the way).

In conclusion, we definitely could have handled all of that better. But, I don’t regret what we did do because even though we had to endure the most heat either of us had ever experienced (I’m not kidding folks! It was DUMB hot!) while lugging all of our shit around, we made it. We made it safely to Florence. We soaked up it’s beauty, relaxed in it’s slow pace and recharged our batteries for our next great adventure.

I am curious to know though, how do you think you would have handled that situation? How do you think we did?

If you’re a returning reader, Thanks for coming man! I really appreciate it. I laid this out as a project where I would write 1000 words for each photo, but this one ended up a tad winded at almost 2000 words. Sorry about that. I’m sure that will happen from time to time. Anywho, thanks for dropping in again, hope to see you back!

[all-the-kookies-fall]

A THEORY: Linear Timeline of reputation

This is going to be a very long read; but it may just include unlocking the 15 Taylor's from the LWYMMD MV so read on if you dare…

 (OK it totally includes the theory, please read and tell me what you think!)

An Introduction:

I've been a casual fan of Taylor Swift since she started. Loved all her radio singles, listened to her albums (at my leisure upon release), and admired her platform and brand image. I guess I became a huge fan after 1989, but around the release of reputation, I realized just how much this woman's music has been there throughout my life and decided to fully stan her. As I fell down the rabbit hole of  learning everything I could about TS as an artist, I became completely enamored with her wits & charms. However, the more I learned to love about her, the more I could feel just a slight inauthenticity; I was constantly thinking of the hypocrisy of how she "never names who her songs about" yet she created this scavenger hunt with her liner notes that seemed to point in an obvious direction of one of her "ex-boyfriends." It didn't align with how she presented herself in every other aspect. Then, I felldowntherabbithole for real and found all of the incredibly documented and organized realm of the Kaylor's, and everything was literally in screaming color.

reputation made even more sense with fresh Kaylor eyes and once I read this Taylor Swift quote: 

reputation, in my mind, is an album that is very linear in it’s timeline. Meaning that it kind of starts out where I was when I first started making the record. The album ends more where I am now in my life. So this is more towards the end of the album, it’s called ‘Call It What You Want.’

my mind became OBSESSED with cracking this code. I had combed through all the kaylor blogs and while I had read everything I could, I still couldn't place it within any timeline. Then, Delicate came out and the code started to crack; I could peek inside and make sense of something, but was still unsure what it was. I put together a loose concept which had some plot holes, but it was when I remembered to revisit the 15 Taylor theory that everything completely revealed itself.

  I would like to start with a disclaimer: I have never, ever actively participated more than lurking or even posted anything on Tumblr. I would like to fully acknowledge that there is a huge, fat chance none of this makes sense to anyone but me, but my husband was really getting fed up with me talking about it and I just needed to share. THANK YOUS to the Kaylor blogs I frequented with incredible analysis and POV of Tay in the media and her music-  @all-my-possessions​ @howyougetthenerd​  @jennyboom21 @karlitakloss​ @kaydar​ @kaylorrepdetective​ @larrienation​ @out-of-the-klosset​ @paradisekisses  @tallcurlygirl​ @taytaysbeard​ @that-curly-haired-lesbian @thoseflashinggreeneyes​ @whaler13bg​ to name a few. (Sorry, tumblr is not letting me tag a few of you.)

 A lot of the information I am providing is not new and connects the dots from the amazing posts from this community. I tried as best as I could to cite all relevant posts - you can definitely let me know if I've made any errors. Please feel free to edit//contribute//comment because I have a feeling that a more seasoned eye would be able to expound on so many more clues and easter eggs!

Let the Games Begin!

Overall Concept/Themes

There are truly some insightful analysis of the overarching themes and concepts of the album already. Secrecy, partners in crime, forbidden love… In general there's a complex theme of Duality to the album; conflicting feelings, Brand vs Self, bad vs good, truth vs reputation etc. I think it's most important to note is that any analysis that views these tracks differently than listed below, can still be correct. Our Queen is a lyrical master plus there's that added layer of intentional dualities in her story telling; there's always at least 3 different meanings to her songs and that's one of the reasons we admire her wordsmith ways.

 The Timeline!!!

 …Ready For It?  - So It Goes… 2012* - 2014

This has long been inferred in every side of the fandom to indicate this is Part 1 of the Story, implied by the ellipses as the beginning and end of the track names. All the timelines I've previously read started at either the introduction of  1989 or even later beginning with 2016/2017 events, but it didn't make sense applied to the album as a whole. Once Delicate MV came out, I began to notice that all of the nods to RED in all these MV's were not just for nostalgia. She is literally telling us that this part of the story was about the end of RED era leading into 1989 - not quite 1989 era just yet. ;)

*2012 is an estimate based on the beginning of the Delicate video; it's possible that TS & KK met before Swiftgron was officially over but who will ever know? Karlie's buzz cut was December 2011 (x). The first half of the album is difficult to theorize specific dates within this period because we really have no idea when KK & TS met.

LWYMMD - New Year's Day 2014 - 2017 (NYD)

I gotta tell you - immediately after reading this, go watch LWYMMD. It was (is?) literally hiding there in plain sight; it's a GENIUS video walking you through EXACTLY what she did (you could say from a satirical standpoint more how the media/GP thought she did) to prepare for this era! When she refers to the "Old Taylor," she's using the term in the exact way her fans have been using: to refer to Country Taylor. She is officially Pop; Look What We Made Her Do when RED, a pop-country album, "a patchwork of songs," didn't win the Grammy. She went full POP princess. This post in particular helped me remember that these songs are not fresh in regards to her life even though they are brand new to us. Part 2 of the story more clearly follows the events of the 1989 era through just before rep's release.

Track by Track // 15 Taylors

…Ready For It?  Intro

I believe this is an introduction of what's to come, an overview of the story. Yes, she's definitely asking herself if she's ready to come out of the closet (x/x), if Karlie is ready to glass closet (x), is her beard ready for the consequences(x), and most specifically, are we, her fans, the GP, are we ready for her to come out and live her truth unapologetically? It's her laying the groundwork to prepare for 1989; her literally coming up with the concept for the whole era which is why we see the references to her 1989 MV's in the glass room. This post  cites the connection to the Dykes on Bikes; are we ready to accept Taylor to not only come out, but be a strong voice and activist of the LGBTQ+ community?

End Game April 2013 - June 2014

I KNOW Taylor is singing to KK about them first meeting - and I KNOW we think they just met before VSFS 2013 (even though there are rumors that say they met sooner…) But, hear me out because this lines up way too easily with the information we get from the MV (x/x). Remind yourself… Who opened for Taylor's RED tour? That’s right, our favorite ginger. It's a nice additional nod with the callback of Everything Has Changed duet with Ed Sheeran. Miami (shoutout to my hometown even though I have no inkling to its significance) tour dates were 04/10/13, London was  02/01/14 (Did she really show us their first  NYE together?!), and Tokyo was 06/01/14.

Irrelevant now but important for later (LWYMMD): And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ‘em. This post highlights a cool interpretation of the line that applies to this whole post!

I’ve been doing some digging to try and somehow link Miami in this mix, and this is pure speculation but I feel like Future represents her bearding with Harry Styles. Karlie’s “buzz cut” was in December 2012, and shortly thereafter she was in Miami for a photo shoot. 1/4/12 marks the official break up of Haylor in the US Virgin Islands… it’s a stretch and I’m totally grasping at straws but they are geographically close and it’s all I got for now.

   "Me, I was a robber first time that (s)he saw me…"

I Did Something Bad early 2013

So, I have to admit… IDSB and DBM were the two songs I was having the most trouble placing within the linear timeline; my initial thought was this must have been a metaphor for her confessing her "sins" a.k.a. bearding, to Karlie when they first started dating. This was the song that clicked once I looked through the lenses of the 15 Taylors and reaffirmed my thoughts with the visuals of this Taylor on the cross in LWYMMD. In digging a little deeper, I found a Vanity Fair article - one of the only cover stories found online about TS during 2013. I'm not as confident about my perspective on the linear timeline with this track, however I feel like it's a good start especially considering the next holy church track.

In regards to the "light me up" lyric, and clear visual reference in the …RFI MV as well as the crucifixion of Taylor in LWYMMD, I thought this answer she gave the   73 Questions With Taylor Swift | Vogue video was also interesting to note. The question was what is the one thing she wishes she would have known at age 19 (8:03)?

"Hey, you're going to date just like a normal 20-something should be allowed to, but you're going to be a national lightning rod for slut-shaming."

I'll leave this quote from the April 2013 Vanity Fair interview right here:

"But nobody calls them the kinds of names that get thrown at Swift. “They’re ‘playboys,’ ” Swift says wryly. “They’re ‘having fun.’ ”

By the way, in the Vanity Fair article there's an "authorized source" giving insight to what "really happened" to Haylor aka probably lies.

 Every lie I tell them, they tell me three

Don't Blame Me early - mid 2014

I can really only hypothesize through the lyrics and the Taylor line up that this may be a reference to how the RED "media" circus (as quoted from the VF article cited above) literally made her do crazy things - maybe how her past experiences had caused her to react a certain way in an undefined relationship, maybe how the media circus in general had her guarding her heart, and of course the religious context of the song leads me to believe of course it is connected in that aspect to the confessing of her actions in the previous track. Big Sur trip also falls within this timeline. (x/x/x) 

I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy…

Delicate 2013 - 2014

I think this one has so many beautiful analysis with the music video that syncs perfectly with this time line with no need for additional explanation, and I think it's especially apparent why this Taylor represents TraKK 5 in the line up. (x/x)

It's interesting that Fearless Taylor and Red Taylor were the ones actually fighting on Taylor Mountain in the LWYMMD MV; this may be a reference to her insecurities and headspace during the RED media circus//break up anxieties fighting contrasting to her want to just dance in her best dress Fearless with KK with no inhibitions.

Dancing in my best dress, fearless 

LWYMMD End of 2014

Has anyone noticed the crows in the beginning? It literally hit me as I was finishing this post - a group of crows is called a murder.

We see her Driving a new Maserati (well, car with significant meaning) down a dead end street and then crashes into the pole. (x) She literally killed the "Old Taylor" to get the Grammy - as well as set up clever disguises as red herrings* so that we missed the most obvious clue that this is about the release of 1989. I think even cleverer, how she walks away from the crash unscathed at the end of the MV to imply she rose up from the dead, she does it all the time (with each era release). (x/x/x/x)

*Red herring: something, especially a clue, that is or is intended to be misleading or distracting. In reference to the post regarding hatchets in End Game, she's definitely sending us on the hunt… remember that post above I asked you to note?

 Then of course another hint to the timeline is in the lyrics and MV (look at the date of the tweet...)

I've got a list of names and yours is in red underlined 

So It Goes… October/November 2014

This was definitely the most challenging to figure out, but there's definitely two clear ideas that are represented here - the linear timeline alludes to the HOT KINKY SEX our girls probably had after VSFS '14 (x/x/x) and the death of her 'innocence.' Coincidentally, I had read Slaughterhouse Five for the first time earlier last year and lurking around the Reddit TS  community where they spent so much time trying to figure out how they could circle this back to Vonnegut. Unluckily for them, it is the most heteronormative//homophobic community where even Kaylor posts are censored/deleted/ridiculed etc so they weren't ever going to get it. This song represents a toxic relationship with CH in their eyes, and I can see that perspective… another Salute to the American Queen of Wordplay.

 Anyway, here is a quote from a NY Times (https://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/18/books/review/and-so-it-goes.html)

That is, the constant repetition of “So it goes” makes readers ask themselves about the meaning of death (or its lack of meaning) and the incalculable human costs of war.

The 2009 VMA's Taylor is the epitome of everything her art, brand and music spoke to prior to 1989; and with the Pop princess she was no longer the relatable girl next door. She had gone full big-city, celebrity friends, glitz and glam - feeling so Gatsby for that whole year. With 1989, represented by the LWYMMD music video, that image was shattered, it was the death of her reputation but the true beginning of laying the groundwork for her and KK's future and she truly felt alive. 

Not to mention a song about kinky sex is a huge step away from that image.

So it goes...

And so it goes, now Part 1 of our story is done.

Gorgeous Met Ball 2015

Part 2 moves into the 1989 era starting with the Met Gala. (x/x) I read a great analysis using the lyrics to prove why this song is not about someone you just met because of the intense conflicting feelings. (I have scoured Tumblr to find it and link it but can't rediscover it… sorry I explained I've been a noob and a lurker and I never liked or reblogged anything, I'll update with a link if I ever find it again!) That made me reevaluate my original thoughts of this track being Enchanted 2.0 and representing her meeting Karlie for the first time. This was the first public event Kaylor attended together; it must have been strong conflicting feelings of joy & giddiness of the relationship quickly overtaken by nerves, fear, and anger that she would be found out and/or couldn’t show any outward PDA towards KK at the event. I would imagine there was a lot of drinking that night to cope, thus the “drunk” perspective.

 PS she probably didn’t go home alone that night (DING)😉

 'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

Getaway Car May - August 2016

There are great analysis looking at this song from two main POV's- 1. the bearding CH-TH circus(x/x) and 2. a reflection of Swiftgron in hindsight (x). For the sake of the timeline/15 taylor line up, it was too coincidental that this was the Taylor snapping at the beards in I <3 TS shirts and  from that perspective, fits perfectly into the linear timeline. It is suspect  that TS went against her management in anger of how the "break up" with CH unfolded, and so it would make sense to be a little apologetic towards TH -- the one beard aftermath she may have regretted but that is just pure speculation.

And a circus ain't a love story, and now we're both sorry

  *I JUST NOTICED! She POPS HER LEG for the 7th boyfriend in line - AKA CH. She is SO EXTRA!

King of My Heart August 2016

The below quote and Taylor line up don't need further explanation. 

"I think it’s very interesting when people talk about their love stories. Like when you guys blog about, “my and my husband, me and my boyfriend” or just anyone talking about how they fell in love. 

There seem to be these very definitive phases. It doesn’t matter how long that phase lasts. There seems to be a moment where you know it transitioned to the next phase. People will be like, “Oh my God, we were friends for six years and there was this moment and we knew and then it changed. Then there was a moment and it got even deeper. Then there was a moment and we knew” or like “I saw this person and there was this moment and we knew.” Everyone has a different story with how they connect with someone else and what i find interesting is the moment where it switches. You always hope that switch is going to move forward and not backwards because it can happen either way. I always wanted to structure the song where each individual section of the song sounded like a move forward in the relationship but still being listenable. So I wanted the verse to seem like it’s own phase of a relationship, the pre-chorus to sound like it’s own phase of a relationship, and the chorus to sound like it’s own phase of a relationship. I wanted them to all have their own identity but seem like they were getting deeper and more fast paced as the song went on. So finally I was able to achieve that in a song.”

 Here’s a couple of my favorite analysis regarding this song. (x/x)

 Up on the roof with a school girl crush

 Dancing With Our Hands Tied Mid - End 2016

This analysis  really explains the lyrics and matches the allusion of the Zombie Taylor to make it seem like it is a hindsight song about Swiftgron; however Out of the Woods is the last MV of 1989 era released the end of 2015 (aside from New Romantics your video) and this can perhaps be expressing the death of Taylor’s 1989 reputation after the slew of public feuds. It can also be interpreted as a hindsight song in regards to Kissgate in 12/2014(x/x); how she had found herself coming into 1989, but was a zombie version of that because she had to beard with CH and TH and it perhaps made her feel dead inside. Maybe she’s implying that she would have just taken the fall from grace then put herself through another (particularly long and grueling) fake relationship.

I had a bad feeling

Dress October 2016

Not only is Dress pretty frequently analysed, it's also the most obvious and blatant within the theory.  I thought it was very cute that this was represented by the Ballerina in the line up as a not so subtle nod to Karlie. October 2016 was the infamous Golden Tattoos at Drake's birthday party. (x/x/x)  

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo. 

Sorry I couldn’t help myself with this gif :P

TIWWCHNT November 2016

Originally, I thought this was the easiest one- yes, the Snake Queen is sipping and serving tea on her infamous feuds however it just didn't fit in the more transparent timeline of the second half. There's been a few posts that hint the track may be a slight diss to her fans. Once it hit me she was alluding to herself as our (the fans) American *dream* Queen, I realized: this song is not a slight diss - it is harshly directed to us, all of us. Hear me out: Just like KOMH is about a love that reflects back on different periods in life, this track also calls to a couple different conflicts with the relationship of TS and her fans. She's never enough for either aspect of the fandom.

I thought it was curious that she would have the "ET TU BRUTE" (x)  as a reference to Kanye because let's be honest, she probably never trusted him after 2009 and rightfully so. "Et tu, Brute?" is a Shakespeare reference and a phrase that is now used to describe a friend stabbing you in the back. This would be more applicable to us, her fans. V1:

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jumping to the pool from the balcony

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

And there are no rules when you show up here

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

This easily refers to 12/2014 - Kissgate. Feeling so gatsby for that whole year; throwing big parties. She had to close the gate before she was outed prematurely by the fans watching her during the concert.  We were the last ones she ever expected having to protect herself from; she had been so open, glass-closeting, but the fans took it too far and crossed the line of her privacy. She was surprised by the network that had expanded to track her every move. A couple years pass, V2:

It was so nice being friends again

There I was giving you a second chance

Think back to the election of 2016; Taylor being back in the media and more open again with her life wasn't enough at this point. America had reached a boiling point and everyone had to pick a side; even Taylor's most dedicated fans were constantly expressing their disappointment at her so she changed her priorities and went into hiding.

 As @paradisekisses once posted, “Not everything is about Kanye.”

 Salute to you, our American Queen of Red Herrings

 Because you break them, I had to take them away.

Call It What You Want End of 2016

The lyrics all harken to 1989 (x) and this is when her reputation has never been worse (again), but she’s stronger this time and it didn’t break her as much as post RED era. Not to mention, she’s madly in love and found her end game so nothing else really matters to her; her priorities have been shifted and she knows what truly matters in her life. 

Call her what you want, she is Karlie's Partner in Crime.  it's an obvious call to the gold cage, hostage to my feelings; she will jail herself once more with this ((hopefully)) last beard and that will be the official death of  (2.0? 6.0?) Old Taylor. The best part is the BTS video showing how much fun she was actually having in the gold cage. There are beautiful analysis of this song (x/x/x/x/x)   , and to me it's just the most real/pure love song. Love isn't just about all the good times, it's how your partner and you navigate the bad. Sometimes the worst moments in life show us just how strong our relationships are and bring us closer together.

Karlie what you want, call her what you want to (I can't unhear this in the background now <3)

New Year's Day January 1, 2017

This Taylor is hidden from us because she will probably never be as open with the GP, media, or her fans ever again. Who knows what to come in the future, but she actively tells us "don't read the last page" and to "hold onto the memories." Ugh, this is making me tear up --  I just officially joined the fandom!! Don’t tell me this is it already... (x/x/x) 

This post highlighted the importance of the sunshine necklace with Taylor's obvious sarcasm in the BTS in saying “It’s really important to wear subtle jewelry in music videos, I’ve learned.” (If anyone can forward the gif I’d love to add it to the post :))

Sidenote: technically, isn't this another closet she's in during the rep era?

Wear you like a necklace…

And I will hold on to you...

I had so much fun putting this together and being inspired by all the amazing perspectives the Kaylor fandom has been churning! Hope you like it :) Let me know your thoughts!

[transarchive]

I posted my gang AU

Title: Origins

Ship: Pre zimbits, Holsom, ShittyLardo

Summary:  SMH is well known through Los Santos as people not to be played with. A family first, a gang second, but where did they begin? Were they born into it, or did they stumble across this life? Each of them has a past, and a story.

Tags: Alternate Universe - GTA AU, Criminal AU, Organized Crime, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, morally grey everyone, Trans Character, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Trans Eric "Bitty" Bittle, The hockey mafia, Blink and miss zimbits, implied shittylardo, implied Holsom, its all backstory so its all implied rn

on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666709/chapters/33883332

                                                           _____

The thing about it is, Bitty could have a reason for being hateful. Nothing to justify it, but something to make people nod their heads and think ‘ no wonder’ .

It could be the school bullies, shoving and kicking him until he was a broken, mangled mess. It could be his parents, who said they loved him, then turned their backs and kicked him out the second he wasn't the sweet ‘girl’ they’d raised. Of course a boy scorned like this would turn dark and angry with the world.

These could be reasons, but they aren’t the truth. Honestly, Bitty isn’t actually hateful. Bitty isn’t angry, with the world or with anything. Bitty doesn’t have a burning need to hurt those who hurt him, or to senselessly destroy everything around him the way he was destroyed. Oh, no. Bittywishes it was something like a vendetta. At least vendettas are a cause and effect.

The truth is, Bitty’s just always been drawn to things he shouldn’t be. Fast things, dirty things. Things his mother tried to steer him from and raise him to be above. And Bitty tried so hard to be above it, to be the good child they asked for. He got good grades, he went to church like he was told, he did his chores around the house. It just never changed anything about him.

                                                          _____

Even when Bitty was on the streets, with every reason to steal, he tried to be good. Bitty only stole because he had to, and only when he had to. It didn’t matter that he was good at it, because it wasn’t something to be good at. It was a means of survival. Bitty kept his head above the water line, just barely, and didn’t let himself be lured into anything more. When the opportunity presented itself for a stable living in the form of a checkout boy, he took it.

Things start to look up. Bitty finds an apartment, he gets a promotion, he finds a nice boy at a coffee shop and starts to date him. Everything is set for Bitty to have a nice, quiet life.

Nice and quiet don’t sit very well with Bitty, and they sure don’t sit well with Los Santos. Los Santos is as glitzy as it is dirty as it is violent. Maybe that’s why Bitty ran there in the first place. As much as Bitty tries to live his honest life in a dishonest city, he gets glimpses of deals in alleys, sees the same boys arrested in the news who are always let go within the week, despite mountains of evidence against them.  

And he craves it.

                                                          _____

It’s almost nine months into Bitty’s Happy Home™ when Bitty ruins his life. Or that’s what anyone else would say. Bitty doesn’t feel that way - not really.

The first mistake started in the beginning, when Bitty didn’t run the second he found out his nice, sweet, coffee shop boyfriend—Brent—was a cop.

Not only was Brent a cop, he was a clean cop. A cop that was trying to make the city better for the people in it. Bitty should have run, because a cop was too close to everything Bitty was trying to make himself avoid, but Bitty stayed. Bitty stayed because he could listen to Brent’s stories in bated breath and fake concern.

The second mistake was thinking he could keep up a happy appearance at all.

Brent is sitting on the sofa, Bitty’s in the kitchen, cooking, when Brent says, “I made us dinner reservations at Patricia’s for next week.”

Next week. Their anniversary. Bitty forces a smile. “Sounds lovely.”

“Nine months,” Brent says, getting up, walking over to Bitty in the kitchen, wrapping him in a hug from behind. “Can you believe it’s been so long?”

The oven gets slammed a little too hard. “Nope! I sure can’t!”

“Three more, and we’ll be celebrating our one year!”

It sinks in, and Bitty thinks—really thinks—about having spent a year with Brent, and then another, and another, until they’re getting married and having a kid and living a nice little suffocatingly boring life with two-point-five kids and a dog and a house and a mortgage-

“I can’t- I can’t do this,” Bitty whispers.

And that’s how Bitty ruined nine months of his life in the span of two seconds. Or, that’s what anyone else would say. Bitty really can’t say he feels the same.

                                                          _____

Nothing changes. Not really, anyway.

Bitty doesn’t see Brent anymore, and that gets settled and forgotten within the span of a few weeks, because Brent wasn’t really tangled in Bitty’s life. Most of the work there is getting things from Brent’s apartment back to his.

Bitty keeps his job and his apartment, and he keeps living his nice life.

There’s one difference, though, and that is every so often, Bitty lifts.

Sometimes it’s from a homophobic patron who doesn’t shut up, or the store itself when his boss’ mood is taken out on the rest of them.

It’s not necessity - but it’s harmless, and it’s only every so often. Never anything that would affect them, either. Just a twenty here and there, or a pack of gum when no one's looking. Things that won’t be missed, anyway. It’s just to keep Bitty from slipping again.

                                                          _____

It takes six days for Bitty to make himself go to the bank to deposit a check. Not five, not seven. There’s no particular reason for the delay. Except, maybe fate.

Some things happen for a reason, after all.

Bitty spends so much time feeling connected to the darkness of the city that he thinks he’d know something was going to happen before it happened; a gut feeling, maybe. But Bitty doesn’t notice anything until the first guard goes down. And then the second. And then the third.

Immediately, there’s chaos all around, people screaming and trying to get out of the way. A few of them make it to the streets, but bitty knows they’ll be picked off in the openness of the streets. He’s seen all of this before, though never in person.

Bitty just stands there watching, then thinks maybe he should get down and hide somewhere, just in an effort to not get shot by a bullet.

He doesn’t have a chance to. An arm comes around his waist, pulling him back hard against their chest and doesn’t let up. A gun is put to the side of his head.

“Nothing personal, babe,” the voice says against his ear, a light accent that Bitty can’t place under the pressure, “don’t move, don’t do anything stupid, and you’ll get out alive.”

A few others start to flood in, all masked, all in black.

Bitty is by all means terrified, but another part of him feels more alive than it has in twenty one years. And then that part of Bitty decides to do something stupid, despite the warning.

Whoever the dude holding him is, he’s clearly in charge of the other masked people, because he’s too busy barking out orders to them (into Bitty’sear , which hurts ) to notice Bitty’s hand itching back slowly, and lifting his wallet, and sliding it into his own pocket.

Bitty makes a good captive, he likes to think. When his captor presses the gun barrel a little harder because the clerks aren’t giving them the amount they’re demanding, Bitty lets out a little sob, and pats himself on the back when the clerks start handing it over.

All too soon, the thieves take their money, and Bitty is tossed roughly to the floor as the man takes off, along with his crew. Bitty looks up to catch a glimpse of his assailant, but only sees the back of him, and can’t help but think ‘ lord, he’s got a good ass ’.

Between the police statement, and then the reporters, Bitty gets a little swept up in playing up his trauma to look realistic. He fake cries when he’s suppose to, thanks the police, says a few words the news can replay later that night.

When the police ask if Bitty managed to get a clear look at the face of the man who’d held him, Bitty finally remembers the wallet tucked safely in his pocket, probably with a fake photo ID.

“No,” Bitty says, truthfully, “I didn’t see his face.”

It’s a few hours before Bitty is alone again, in his car, where he can take out the wallet and really look at it.

There’s a few receipts, some cash, but Bitty’s mostly interested in the ID. He slips it out and looks it over. Blue eyes and floppy black hair, named Laurent Jackson. Bitty shakes his head. That can’t be right. Unless this boy is particularly dumb enough to carry around a real ID, it has to be an alias.

                                                          _____

For the second time that day, Bitty overestimates his gut feeling.

Bitty should’ve noticed an unfamiliar bike parked in the space next to his as he got home, but it was hours later, so late it was dark, and Bitty was exhausted. Nothing goes noticed, though, until Bitty closes the door to his apartment, turns on the light and he notices a man sitting on his sofa, lounging causally. In his hands, twirling, is a knife.

For the second time that day, Bitty has every right to be terrified, but some flame in him is ignited.

Bitty digs for the wallet in his pocket and tosses it to the man, who catches it easily with his free hand. “Nothing personal, babe.”

The man laughs. “You know, I thought you were moving around too much. I thought you were maybe just a squirmer.” The man flips open the wallet, closes it, and extends his hand.

Bitty blinks at him innocently.

The man sighs. “The ID. Where is it?”

Bitty bites back a grin. “I have no idea.”

“I don’t have time for this. Where’s the ID?”

Bitty makes a show of checking his front pockets, then his back pockets, meanwhile the man looks at him, thoroughly unimpressed. Finally, Bitty pulls out the card from the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “Ah! This one?”

The stranger reaches for it, and Bitty tugs it away. “Hold it! This says your name is Laurent Jackson. I don’t think that’s entirely right.”

Bitty only gets a second to brace before he’s being knocked back onto the couch and pinned under the man.

“Well! Ain’t this a bit forward!”

This makes the man stare at him. “Do you have a death wish? There’s easier ways to die than being carved up, you know.”

Bitty’s well aware he’s practically playing with fire next to a waiting fuse in an oil refinery, but he can’t stop, now that he’s started. His mother did always warn him about bad behavior being a slippery, addictive slope.

“I just wanna know your name.”

The man shoots Bitty a filthy grin. “Why?” he leans in, close to Bitty’s ear. “Want to know what name to scream when you’re begging for mercy?”

Something in Bitty stirs, and he grins back. “Who says I’ll beg?”

A little—somehow still logical—part of Bitty’s brain screams that he’s currently under a much larger man who broke into his apartment, threatened to kill him, and he’s sitting (laying) here flirting with him of all things.  

The man just laughs. “You’re a ballsy one. So if I give you my real name, you’ll give me that ID?”

Bitty nods, and the man pushes up onto his knees. “Jack.”

“Jack,” Bitty mimics. “I’m Eric.”

Jack doesn’t respond, just watches Bitty curiously for a second. After a few moments, Jack breaks the silence. “You know, I’d usually just kill you, but I’m thinking that would be a waste.”

Bitty raises a brow. “Waste of-?”

“You,” Jack says simply, “Your skills. And I don’t mean the sticky fingers. I saw your interview on the news. It’s more than being a good actor. You know how to make people trust you.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and stands up from the sofa, making his way to the kitchen “It’s not hard to make people feel sorry for you after you’re involved in a bank robbery,” he calls back.

There’s footsteps following him, and sure enough, Jack’s just behind him. Bitty doesn’t acknowledge him, just starts digging through the fridge for something to make.

Jack continues, “most people can’t fake trauma like that. They don’t need to.”

“Maybe I am traumatized,” Bitty says, a little short, “Maybe I’m in shock.”

Jack hums. “Maybe. Or maybe you just don’t care like you should.”

That makes Bitty freeze. He stands in surprise for a second, and then closes the fridge and turns to face Jack, arms crossed.

“Okay. You caught me. What does this have to do with me being valuable?”

“Me and my crew aren’t exactly open enrollment,” Jack says, “but I think you’d be a good asset as a decoy. You’d scout places, talk to people, get information and report back.”

For a moment, Bitty waits for the punchline, for Jack to start laughing like earlier, but he doesn’t. He just watches Bitty, expectantly.

“Y-you’re serious?” Bitty says finally, “You want me to join your crew?”

Jack nods.

It’s everything Bittys ever wanted, served up on a plate, with a bow. It’s everything Bitty’s fought to stay away from, that would ruin what Bitty’s worked so hard for.

But what has Bitty worked for? A cheap apartment and some morals given to him by people he hasn’t seen in years?

Still, Bitty clings to some semblance of self preservation. “I’m not a criminal.” It sounds more like a question than a stance.

Jack snorts. “You lie like one.”

“I was trying to be normal, ” Bitty says between his teeth.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Fine!” Bitty snaps loudly, “It’s been fine! I have an apartment, and a job, and...” Bitty trails off.

Jack sighs. “And you’re satisfied with this?”

Bitty doesn’t reply.

There’s footsteps again, making their way to stand behind Bitty.

“I’m not going to beg, but you can’t fool me. You won’t be happy like this. I tried it too.”

They’re quiet for a moment again, until Bitty finally, quietly asks, “What would this entail?”

“Starts with a few tests of loyalty, training and initiation, and then a couple of small jobs, trial runs. Mainly, we run a bar, so we’ll set you up as a bartender, you keep an ear out for anything you think is suspect. Talk to people. You work your way up jobs. You get paid.”

“And...when would this start?”

“As soon as you’d want it to.”

Again, they fall into silence, and then Bitty turns to face Jack again. “Alright. I’m in.”

Jack smiles.

When Jack asks what changed his mind, Bitty doesn’t answer him. Maybe it was the reassurance that he’d be trained, or knowing that Jack had tried to be normal once, too.

Those could be reasons, but they aren’t.

The truth is, Bitty just wanted the knowledge that he tried to be good, one last time.

[outlanderfanfics]

Getting to Know Abby Debeaupre

This week, I interviewed another great Outlander fanfic writer, @abbydebeaupreposts!

Abby was born on the East Coast of U.S and grew up in and around New York City. She is 50% Greek and 50% Mutt, but can only (barely, she says) speak her native tongue of English. Without exactly revealing her age, she did admit that she has a playlist stuck in the 80s. She only started writing Outlander fanfics a little over a year ago. In school, she studied Political Science and Economics. Currently, she does mostly transaction work, focusing mainly on contingency planning and a lot of technical writing. For fun, Abby enjoys hiking, biking, playing tennis, reading, cooking, and watching documentaries. As a unique talent, she revealed that she can tie a cherry stem with her tongue! If she could travel through the stones, she would like to relive her life as a baby boomer or possibly go to Paris in the 1920s. She was adamant that she would not be all that adaptable to the 1740s, as she has a healthy respect for deodorant, tampons and indoor plumbing.

Keep reading to see the full Q & A.

What inspired you to start writing Outlander fanfiction?

The long droughtlander between 1 and 2. I started writing fanfic probably like everyone else --because there were some things I wanted to read that weren’t written yet. Also one of my children had a serious medical issue and needed surgery (he’s doing really well. If any parents out there need to figure out how to go about finding a peds neurosurgeon feel free to DM me). It was a hugely challenging thing to go through. I had a lot of time waiting and pacing in doctor’s offices and hospital corridors. The thing is you are still processing later on-- months later...it echoes across a lot of your life even after and there was upheaval for awhile. Anyway, I stumbled on Outlander fanfic -- perfect small snippets -- the fandom platform is a kind of shorthand that cuts through the expositional crap-- we know who the the characters are and mostly where they are going. Fics usually have regular updates so you stay interested, etc. A handful of writers in particular gave me something to look forward to, a nice escape and lovely food for thought about something other than the things happening IRL. That made a difference to me and I -- corny as this sounds--hope maybe I’ve been able to return the favor/pay it forward.

What are some of your favourite quotes that you have written?

This is a great excuse to reflect on what I have been doing so thank you for that. Let me preface this by saying that I love writing but readers make it fun, special and interesting. So I just wanted to say how enjoyable readers have made this experience. In the process of reviewing everything to try and pick out some quotes has made me realize that I did accomplish my starting goal-- I wrote some things that I wanted to read that remained unwritten and I am kind of happy with how things turned out. Here we go:   

“He kissed her as if she was the essence life itself and she kissed him as if by doing so she could bring him into the light.” --An Outlander Affair to Remember

“If my lips touch yours, Sassenach, I might no’ be able to stop. I’ve been holding heaven in my arms while you slept.” --An Outlander Affair to Remember

“Kiss me quick, all’s quiet, no one is coming.” Claire huffed as she dropped into his lap. “Aye? Well, if it ‘twas you coming, Sassenach, it certainly wouldna be quiet for long!” -- An Outlander Affair to Remember 

“I could have been content, you know...Everything changed when you came into Faith’s life.” Jamie could not remain silent. “Sassenach, I came into your life, too.” “I know. That’s it, exactly.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, as if the truth of the statement made her heart break. -- This is Us

“Dearest LJ, If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach; Your best chance is with a scalpel, not a spatula!” -- This is Us

“Sassenach, if ye think that kiss’ll help me focus on something other than how much I look forward to doing it again, I must tell ye I am no’ of the same mind as you. Come here, lass,” he said as he moved in for the kill. -- Queen’s Gambit

What is your writing process when writing your fanfics? 

I very specifically choose a quote or a scene or a theme from the source material and then challenge myself to drop it on its head and slide it from the OL-verse into my fic in a way that changes its meaning, reconstructs it or reinterprets it. This is true of all my stories except perhaps the Abby After Dark Collection-- which is a little less….literary in nature. This Is Us in particular uses many influences from the book-verse (and TV show too actually) and it has resonated with readers despite the fact that I know about half of the readers haven’t read all the books. I love the fact that it appeals to both kinds of readers.

Do you write during a specific time of day? 

I work looooong hours, I have a fairly busy life with my family and friends and so I try and attend to writing a little bit every day but some days more than others.

Do you ask for input from peers? 

Not in the way you mean--I don’t have a beta and I know it shows! But my peers are beyond supportive of me. We do discuss story arcs and character development, funny plot bunnies, etc. Especially when you get the odd mean anon. They are so great in those low moments. I have been blessed with cheerleaders in the fandom from day one. A lot of people ask how can they get traction for their work and on their blogs-- here is my best advice: team up with someone or several someones--There are artists out there, GIF makers, book analysis bloggers, script nerds, BTS photo blogs, photoshop wizards- find them team up-- @smoakingwaffles started really getting traction with @annalisedemoodboards and the Polaroid series. @futurelounging was just flat out funny and caught @bonnie-wee-swordsman‘s attention. I started on AO3 and @pissedoffsoka13 found me as did @thistlekat777 and really encouraged me to come to Tumblr and then @outlanderedandoverhere drew an amazing This Is Us the fic that is my blog banner and @cantrixgrisea started much as I did posting (but fanart on AO3)-- incredible stuff--and she is so adorable and funny. These are just a few of the ways people give input-- I learn everyday from what they are up to. 

Do you edit while you write or do you use a more stream-of-consciousness approach?

I am the worst proofreader in the world-- but I edit constantly, it’s why it takes a long time between posts. 

What is your favourite genre to write and why?

I don’t have one. I write more modern AUs. I am too much of a nerd about wanting to fact check things and it’s just easier to do that with a modern world setting. The only genre I don’t think I could do are the kinds of fics written by @futurelounging and @diversemediums and @kalendraashtar-- these fantasy/futuristic/past complexities that are fantastically unique.

What has been your favourite season of the show so far and why?

Season One 1-8 because a more perfect glorious season there never was. That is not to say that I haven’t been blown away by several episodes in all three seasons-- they have their strengths and weaknesses. 

Have you read any of Diana’s books? 

All of them and many side ones as well.    

Do you have a favourite book?

ABOSAA.    

Do you read/write fanfics for any other fandom?

Until a few years ago I hadn’t heard the phrase fandom let alone… so no.

What is one random fact about you that you have never revealed on Tumblr before?

I play Texas Hold ‘Em and a mean game of Oh Hell.   

And that’s Abby. Even though I haven’t added her stories to my archive YET, you can check out her fanfiction master list on her blog.

[h-eckers]

Chaos

A/N: Not the best thing I’ve ever written but to be honest I kinda like it. It’s simple. I’ve written this for @tailsbeth-writes riverdale writing challenge because why not! 

Summary: Sweet Pea wants peace near midnight in the familiar diner, the waitress won’t leave him alone.

Word Count: 2,286

Warnings: swears (as per usual), also some mentions of violence 

The boy was chaos. 

 There were storms raging in him that took no rest, oceans that rose to drown him every moment he might dare to try and catch his breath, fires that touched the very corners of him, forcing all of the darkest crevices into violent light. His soul was restless in time with his heartbeat, and it wouldn’t stay inside his body no matter how desperately he tried to force it. That lightning in his fingertips was untameable at times, and the thunder of his voice only climbed his throat to match it. 

 ‘You shouldn’t have done that...’ It whispered in the back of his head, making him lower his head to run his restless fingers through his hair, gripping to pull at the roots. He hissed softly, the curling of his knuckles stretching the bruises and splits across them taught to his bones. He laid his hands on the table before him, watching them shake subtly. ‘You could have walked away.’ 

 But could he? Could he ever really walk away from a fight? Perhaps, if he had the strength of will, and there was no question; he didn’t. When he fought, the chaos inside of him leaked out, and while his body thrashed and screamed, he could feel the storm inside him start to clear, and the tides of those oceans retreat, and the flames of that fire die to almost embers as it poured out of him in violence. It didn’t stop until he was watching it back in the eyes of whoever was unlucky enough to end up on the receiving end of his mayhem. Whatever the reason, catching a glimpse of it was peace; to know it was so removed from him that he could watch it. 

 That feeling never lasted long. Once the fight was over, so was the calm, and that tumultuous weather re-inhabited his tired bones.  

 “Woah, someone’s had a rough night.” The waitress’ soft chuckle brought him back to the diner, the soft red glow from the neon lights outside the window he sat by made the bruises on his hands look almost artistic; an abstractly beautiful reminder of his unhealthy tendencies. 

 “This is none of your business, Northsider.” He grunted softly, pulling his hands off the table as she set down his black coffee. It was all he had ordered. 

 “Alright, alright, no need to get pissy.” She held up her hands in surrender as he looked up from his own fingers to meet her eyes. 

 “Is this part of your job? Annoying customers?” He sneered, looking her over slowly, she must only have been his age, so why would she be working in a diner as it neared midnight? Maybe it was because of people like him, who only had here to come when the rest of the world was asleep; unquiet spirits like his escaping sleep for fear of what was to be found there. 

 “Only when there’s nothing else to do.” She only sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to wander back behind the counter. As far as he could tell, he was alone in here tonight apart from her.  

 Silence followed for what felt like hours, she stayed where she was and he didn’t move, not even to sip at the coffee that he’d wrapped his fingers around. If he’d checked the time he’d find it had only been moments, but it drew out like longer because it was... comfortable. Staring out the window at the rain did something to ease the tension in his body, staring at him from behind the counter made her wonder a million things, none of which she was brave enough or curious enough to voice. 

 “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” It was a cliché line and he knew it but it definitely got the point across, he didn’t bother to look over at her. What he hadn’t expected was the following flash from the corner of his eye, and the shutter sound from her phone. Sweet Pea’s eyes flicked back over to her, she was holding her phone up, and examining the photo she’d just taken before glancing to him to observe the scowl that etched itself into his pretty face. An oddly terrifying, and yet very pretty face. 

 “I was waiting for permission.” She smiled softly and his expression faltered only momentarily, “It’s actually a really good photo, for being taken on a phone at least.” 

 He was curious, nowhere near curious enough to ask to actually see it. He looked away from her and back out the window, though when he paid attention he found he could see her reflection in the glass and it was difficult not to watch her. For whatever reason she was entirely too interesting to him, perhaps it was her demeanour, one like hers was rare here. As he was watching her from the corner of his eye, he noticed her wandering around behind the counter, and further noticed her walking over with rags and an ominous bottle. 

 “Back to harass me.” He grunted softly when she sat down across from him, setting down her supplies on the table in front of her, she didn’t respond. “Ow, what the fuck!?” He hissed, glaring at her as she grabbed his hand and pulled it across the table to rest in front of her. 

 “Oh shut up, if you’re tough enough to get into a fight, you’re tough enough for some antiseptic.” She said, he only jerked his hand away from her violently, it made her jump, and him flinch. 

 “Didn’t I tell you this was none of your fucking business?” He massaged his knuckles despite the pain it caused him, trying to relieve the stiffness in his fingers. 

 “Christ, why are you so defensive?” She laughed softly, though the humour in the sound was near to none. Sweet Pea looked over at her as though she was insane and her brow pinched in frustration. 

 “Why am I so defensive?” He scoffed quietly. 

 “Wow, you’ve successfully repeated what I just said.” She rolled her eyes, holding out her hands in asking for his, “Look, are you going to let me clean that or are you going to get an infection, it’s totally up to you.” 

 “You’re kind of a bitch.” He said softly, resting his hand in hers. At first glance she had to resist the urge to flinch, it wasn’t just bruises; it was bruises on top of bruises on top of old scars and scratches and gashes. 

 “And you’ve clearly got some kind of anger issues.” It came out on a sigh but she didn’t seem hesitant to say it, and it was strange to be around someone who didn’t hold back with what they said to him. 

 “I swear I told you to-“ 

 “Yeah, yeah, ‘mind my business’ I know, I heard.” She huffed, dabbing the antiseptic against his injured hands, he didn’t move or even cringe away. “Who’d you fight?” 

“Ghoulie.” He responded shortly, his eyes trained on his hand cradled in hers as she leaned in to clean it. Her eyes flicked up, catching his and holding them, they were beautiful, and they held something in them that was so familiar. Familiar like a storm; or an ocean; or a fire. 

 “Is that meant to mean something to me?” She asked, refocusing on his hand. She laid it down and carefully beckoned for the other, immediately getting to work tidying the other hand.  

 “You’re not from around here, are you?” He asked, and she shook her head. 

 “Fresh into town.” She chuckled, and he could only smirk, her attitude made a lot more sense now, she wasn’t stupid; she was clueless and stupid. 

 “Ghoulies are a rival gang.” He explained, retracting his hands when she let them go, they stung slightly, they tingled lightly, it was a strange sensation for him but not one he didn’t like. 

 “Rival? Okay. So you’re a... what?” She asked, leaning back in her seat, he hadn’t really expected her to leave at all, and he was glad his intuition was right. 

 “Serpent.” He said, tilting his head to watch her mannerisms, there only seemed to be a few, most of which pertained to her fiddling with the hens of her sleeves, pulling them down over her hands. ‘Cute.’  That voice in the back of his head appeared at the worst moments, or maybe those moments were only the worst because he hated listening to that voice, it always told him the truths he didn’t want to hear. 

 “That’s hot.” She smiled and for a split second he couldn’t hide his surprise, his eyes widened marginally and he scoffed quietly. 

 “I just told you I’m in a gang and that’s your response.” He smiled then, a judgemental smile no doubt but definitely genuine in its own way. 

 “What!?” She laughed and he saw the blush that came across her face though her confidence didn’t seem to waver, “I like tattoos, and leather, and bikes and... look, okay, maybe I have issues but clearly I’m not the only one!” 

 And then they laughed, the two of them actually laughed. If he had have known more about her life he would have known this was as unlikely a moment for her as it was for him. How strange that the two of them would end up together in an empty diner. “Or maybe the fighting just comes with the gang territory.” He suggested, his shoulders relaxing as he sunk down in his seat. 

 “Not like that,” She motioned to his hands vaguely, “that’s anger.” 

 His brow knitted together and he nodded slowly, there wasn’t a point in lying to her now, or maybe there was. “That definitely comes with the territory.” He hummed, flexing his hands again. 

 “I don’t think that’s it,” She said, catching his eyes again and this time it took him aback, she wasn’t looking at him; she was looking through him. Those places she was searching for weren’t places he dared go himself, “I think you bury shit deep down because you don’t think you have anywhere to put it. People close to you are always hurting you and making you mad but because of who they are you think you can’t retaliate, you can’t fight back when it’s them. So you let it fester until someone comes along who you decide you can hurt. Then you take it out on them, but because they didn’t actually do the damage you can’t talk about it or work through it so you lash out with violence.” 

 She rattled it off so quickly that it threw him, she explained something so easily that he’d been chasing in himself for as long as he could remember, there were no words to respond to that. ‘Smart, incredible, and kind of terrifying.’

 “It’s none of your business.” The words weren’t at all what he wanted to come out of his mouth, but that was common enough for him. 

 “It’s entirely my business, actually.” She shrugged, his body tensed and he raised an eyebrow at him. When he didn’t speak it only prompted her to continue, “My shift ended an hour and a half ago, about five minutes after you walked in.” 

 “You’re fucking kidding?” He scoffed and she only shook her head. 

 “Nope, I’m new, and I’m curious, and like I said you’re hot.” She chuckled and he smirked slightly, rolling his eyes. 

 “So you psychoanalysed me?” 

 “Not really,” she said, standing up from the table and pulling the dish towel from the pocket of her apron to wipe her own hands, “I just saw something familiar in you and I figured if you needed someone here to be, I had nowhere to go anyway.” 

 He wasn’t the kind to follow people, when someone walked away from him it tended more to be a blessing to him but he found himself wanting to follow her when she started to walk away. He didn’t. “I guess I should let you get home.” 

 Sweet pea stood, pulling his jacket over his shoulders, his eyes still trained on her as she retreated behind the counter to get ready to close up. “If you’re ready to go.” 

 He wasn’t. 

 “I should.” He said quietly, heading towards the door, “Oh, can I see that photo?” 

 “Yeah, sure.” She pulled out her phone and sat it on the counter, walking away to continue her work.  He wandered over, glancing over the image on her phone, it was him, leaned against the window basked in neon. It looked almost as though he was at peace, it was amazing. Before he could talk himself out of it he opened her phone, there was no passcode which -given her attitude- did not surprise him. He texted it to himself, and he left. 

 The bell ringing over the door substituted as his goodbye. 

 It was only as she was leaving, closing and locking the door behind herself and checking her phone, that she noticed he’d sent the photo to himself, effectively putting his number into her phone. She smiled, shaking her head as she realised she had no idea what his name was as she tried to add him to.

 Unknown number

It’s pretty good, huh?

 She messaged him quickly. The response was almost instant. 

 Black Coffee/Anger Issues 

You’re the one who thinks I’m hot. 

 Unknown number 

Yep. 

 Unknown Number 

I’ll see you tomorrow night. 

 Black Coffee/Anger Issues 

Sure. 

 I was only when he was alone that he smiled like this, he couldn’t help it. She knew nothing, she was complex enough to make him wonder and yet he wasn’t intimidated. 

 The girl was chaos. 

 She had storms, and oceans, and fires tearing at her insides and so did he. 

 The boy was chaos. 

 And he was going back to Pop’s every night as long as she was closing.