#or to become something fifteen people unfollow me for

[sylph-o-life]

I come from a long line of people - which you could probably guess based on me also being a person. More specifically, I come from a long line of teachers. My Mum teaches marketing and business stuff. My grandma, I don't know specifically what she teaches, but it's something related to mental health education. And my great-grandpa was a school teacher, and tells me stories of hiding the cane so he wouldn't have to hit his students. Before that, I assume are more teachers. My sister, 16, wants to be a kindergarden teacher. My sister, 11, has mentioned a want to teach, too. My brother, so far, doesn't. Does that mean I'm predestined to teach, too?

I got my first, and so far only, job at fifteen. It's a fast-food job, minimum wage. I needed extra training on the customer-speaking side of things, but I was otherwise reliable. Which is why I was training the trainees pretty quickly. I'd have two, sometimes three kids around my age under my wing, looking up to me like a saviour when I defended them from weird customers - I could never defend myself, but I could for them. I felt proud when they were more successful than me, and it felt like a personal failing when one was fired for legitimate reasons. One of my trainees was a girl, she was 15 at the time and I was 17, was from the year below me (I entered school a year early). She was very empathetic, but she could also have a bit of a mean-girl vibe about her. One day, when I was showing to her how to close up our section of the restaurant, she asked me how I was so nice and kind all the time. See, while she was empathetic, kindness wasn't something that was natural to her. I explained that, while kindness was something that came naturally to me, it was also a skill that had to be learnt. I told her that it can be tiring being nice to people who, quite frankly, don't always deserve it. But I also said that something kindness, to me, means more from someone who it doesn't naturally come to - that putting in that effort to be kind when everything in her tells her not to means more than me doing it because it's natural to me. After that night, I noticed her slowly, but surely, become a little nicer. It wasn't immediate, and it started as small nervous actions, but every time she did something nice I felt prouder of her. Is that what teaching is?

-

My father stopped being present in my life at the age of thirteen but remained partially in my siblings' lives. They would visit every second weekend, and I would stay behind. It was for the best - if anything, they should have stayed behind too. I was just old enough to see that his behaviour wasn't right, and I got out of there before family court dictated when and where we lived. Since then, from reports of my siblings, my father has gotten worse. My Mum, as fantastic as she is, is only one person, and is also disabled. So naturally, I pitched in a little to help. Nothing too much, mind you - I'd tuck my sister, 11, in when she couldn't sleep well, read with her, and babysit all my siblings when needed. I'd give my sister, 16, advice that went mostly unfollowed, and helped her out of trouble when needed. I used my Big Kid Job money to buy them the snacks we couldn't afford when I was a kid. I wasn't exactly parentified. I did barely more than any older sibling does. So, when my sister, 11, told me she considers me more a parent than our father? Naturally, I nearly cried. I'm not sure what emotion I felt about it. Sorrow? Pride? Anger? A mix of the three? Does that count as teaching, or is parenting - as a sibling or not - a different thing?

-

When I was in year 7, the Australian government decided that everyone in highschool should know how to code a little. Something something, tech industry initiative or whatever. What it meant for us students was two weeks we didn't have to do algebra. So the teacher, a woman who didn't like her job, set us up on the website and let us figure it by ourselves. A friend of mine and I both picked up on it fast - half the two-weeks worth of work done in a double-lesson (just over an hour half). But for others in the class, it really didn't. Hell, I never made it past the 10th one, and had to get my friend's help more than a few times. I'm not particularly good at coding myself, just good at pattern recognition. By lesson two, the very next day, barely anyone had made it past the first of around 12 coding tasks, other than my friend and I. The teacher also didn't really understand the coding stuff either. So she asked me and my friend to help the students for her. My friend, not a very social guy, declined. I accepted. I wasn't a very popular kid. More than half of my class at that point had either relentlessly bullied me or made fun of me in some way by that point. I mean, a queer autistic 13-year-old who was a little too depressed to care for themself properly was the easiest of pickings possible. Not that I ever really noticed - I was too busy roleplaying through email with my friends. So when I was appointed Honorary Code Teacher for the class, it began as only a few asking for help; The ones who leant closer to making fun of me once or twice. Most of them got the hang of it pretty quickly, others called me over to their laptop screen every 5 minutes because they were confused again. I didn't mind this. It felt good to help, even.

It felt weird when the first of my bullies asked for my help. I think deep down I kind-of knew I was being bullied a little, and maybe they asked as another form of bullying. One tactic I'd seen them use on other autistic kids was to hang out with them to laugh behind their backs. And if it was, it only began that way. Soon enough, pretty much all of them had asked for my help at least once. Again, varying degrees of help needed. By the end of the two weeks, most of my classmates had reached at least halfway through the 12 tasks. I felt proud - but, why? I'd only ever pointed out what they were getting wrong, and why it's wrong. I'd change my tactics when they still didn't get it, or I'd hang around until they got it right. Is that all teaching is?

-

Being neurodivergent, I do love a good sorting system - maybe that's why I latched onto Homestuck so much when I was 14-15. I mean, there's a personality sorting system made of 336 possibilities, excluding blood-colour, so of course I loved Homestuck. I spent many a night pouring over the options to figure out if the one I picked truly fit me or not. Sylph of Life; One who creates for others, or creates within others, the concepts of Life, Energy, Health and Growth. At the time, I thought that sounded a lot like the idea of creating OCs. I was, abstractly, creating life for others - my friends and I would create shared stories with our OCs, and I made them for that. But now that I'm 20, two whole decades old, it still feels like a fitting title, for different reasons. Think about the phrase "create growth within others" for a moment. Does that not sound like teaching to you? A teacher teaches their subject, sure, but at least half of my Big Lessons I learnt were from teachers who loved their jobs. Is that not creating growth in another? Many of my remaining childhood memories are of my favourite teachers teaching something to me. From my teenage years, it's equal parts teaching others and being taught. And now, I'm 20. Am I destined to teach?

-

Almost everything in my life points to me teaching in some way, shape or form. My hobbies are all self-taught, and most of my anecdotes are of teaching or being taught. The concepts of the aspect of Life are present in my life in other ways, Health and Energy being very relevant as I'm diagnosed with more and more chronic health conditions. But the concept of Growth seems to be ever-present. Whether in the act of growing up, or in helping others to grow. But do I have to do that? Is it a waste of my skills to do something else? Is there something else I want to do? I have my hobbies, but I don't exactly want those to be my job. Honestly, I don't really even want a job. But would I be happy teaching?

I think I'm going to go do a Library and Information Services course.

[helldustedstories]

As mentioned earlier, the anon I got, while offering "critique" of the way I write Stolas, also veered into victim-blaming territory, saying that he's 'abusive and a cheater and he ruined his family.' Most of it will be under the cut, as this got very long.

So first of all, if you don't like Stolas as a character, that's fine; that's your prerogative, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but what are you doing on my page? As I'm sure you've noticed if you've been around my blog any time at all, Stolas is my main muse here. He's very important to me as a character, and as part of my fave ship, so YEAH, there's gonna be a lot of Stolas on my blog. And if that's something that bothers you...., the unfollow / block button is right there. I very much encourage you to use it to curate your own experience.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's take this "critique" apart piece-by-piece, shall we? The thesis statement with which I was presented was, to paraphrase, that Stolas is abusive, a cheater, and that he ruined his family. Since the anon seemed focused on the fact that Stolas “is a cheater who ruined his family,” that is also the lens through which I will be basing my analysis.

Starting off with my favourite: Stolas is abusive. I'm honestly not sure we've been watching the same show, if you think that. I cannot think of a single instance in the course of the fifteen episodes we currently have where he raised a hand to someone else. Yes, he raised his voice a couple of times, in response to an argument, where both parties were heated. Is that abuse? No, because it was an argument, with emotions running high on either side. People in all kinds of relationships have arguments, which are not inherently abusive. However, we cannot ignore the history that has been presented to us in the show itself, as the text we’re examining. While victims of abuse are not exempt from becoming abusers themselves, in the case of Stolas, this is not what happened.

Let's look at the definition of verbal abuse, pulled from the wiki: "Verbal abuse can include the act of harassing, labeling, insulting, scolding, rebuking, or excessive yelling towards an individual. It can also include the use of derogatory terms, the delivery of statements intended to frighten, humiliate, denigrate, or belittle a person” (“Verbal Abuse.” Wikipedia, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Verbal_abuse. Accessed 12 May 2024).

While Stolas makes a snide remark to Stella, "How was I supposed to know you could spell? I've never seen you read!" that is not abuse. That is a one-off statement meant to get a rise out of her. However, something that does qualify as verbal abuse? The way that Stella talks to and about Stolas. "It's no picnic being married to a boring stiff like Stolas," "Stolas is terrible in bed! I swear to fuck, he just lays there staring at the wall, and I have to do everything! It's embarrassing! I'm glad one egg fell out of me so I could stop pretending to want to fuck his scrawny twig ass," "what a pathetic fucking man" are all examples of Stella harassing, labeling, insulting, scolding, rebuking, using excessive yelling, and derogatory terms intended to humiliate or belittle Stolas in the span of a single episode. Not only in the span of a single episode, but within the span of a single day within that episode (“Helluva Boss/The Circus.” Season 2, episode 1).

We can infer from this, and from the other times we have seen similar situations (which also included threats of physical violence, with Stella throwing Stolas' plants, items she knows he cares about and treats well, specifically to terrorize him), that this is a regular occurrence between them. Stolas doesn't usually speak up or say anything, let alone yell back. One of the few times he says anything in response to her shouting is in the second episode of the first season: Loo Loo Land. But even then, Stella is shouting, and Stolas is replying to her as calmly as he can, his voice much quieter than hers, even in the context of what can be heard as a character in the show, not only for the audience’s perspective.

An important thing to note, as well: while the instance with Stolas responding to Stella’s verbal abuse in Loo Loo Land takes place in an earlier episode, it takes place later within the chronology of the show, as almost all of the scenes in The Circus appear as a flashback. This is an important distinction because The Circus establishes a pattern of behaviour that is continued and escalated in Loo Loo Land. It is understandable for a spouse to be upset that they’d been cheated on, but the level of the reaction, the fact that it is ongoing mistreatment, makes it unacceptable.

There are many different types of abuse, and Stolas does not display any of them. He actively works to dismantle the cycle of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse he has gone through. While he does make mistakes, he tries to be as supportive of his daughter as possible, showing interest in the things she likes even if he doesn’t always understand. He shows physical affection, makes sure she knows that he loves her, that he’s going to be there for her, both when she’s a child, and later when they go to Loo Loo Land. It had been his insistence that they go to the park, but the moment he realized that Octavia wasn’t having fun, they had a heartfelt talk that was emotional, but also an actual conversation as opposed to one party hurling insults at the other.

I would go so far as to say that Stolas displays both freeze and fawn responses to these situations with Stella. We hear her say that “Stolas is terrible in bed! I swear to fuck, he just lays there staring at the wall, and I have to do everything!” which is a classic sign of dissociation, and can also be attributed to the freeze response to trauma. While both Stolas and Stella were put in a situation that they did not want to be in, the fact that Stella went through with sex while Stolas was actively dissociating makes that assault. Not only that, but she continues to laugh and joke about what happened with her friends, knowing that Stolas is within earshot of her; she deliberately uses her words to hurt him, to bring up his trauma, to belittle him. Stella is very good at choosing some of the most hurtful words she could because it’s meant to show that Stolas is unsatisfactory as a man because he cannot please her in bed, and she ‘had to do all the work.’

Let’s reverse the roles for a moment, shall we? A man says that his wife just lies there while he has to do all the work during sex, he ignores that she’s dissociating and continues regardless of her feelings. Cut and dry assault, right? But because the victim in this case is a man, it’s not seen as abuse, which is hypocritical and dangerous.

While I could continue at length about this single point, let’s move on. We’re going to be tackling both “Stolas is a cheater” and “he ruined his family” at the same time, because I think they’re very much tied to one another. Yes, he had an affair while he was married. On the surface, he is absolutely a cheater, an adulterer, whatever you want to call him. Not even he would deny that. However, this is something that also has a lot more nuance than just the surface level viewing.

Stolas is a gay man who has been trapped in a heterosexual marriage for almost twenty years. He himself states that he “tried so many years to make it comfortable for us; to have this family, but it was never enough” (HB, S2E01). And while we don’t fully know what that entailed, considering the way that Stella reacted to his infidelity with Blitz, it can be inferred that that was the first time he’d strayed. He chose to stay in a loveless marriage, with a spouse who continually insulted and belittled him, destroyed his property, and was physically abusive, all to attempt to give their daughter some semblance of a normal childhood. Stolas insulated Octavia from much of her mother’s cruelty, but it escalated to the point that he could not keep all of it from her any longer.

It’s also clear through Stella’s dialogue that it’s not necessarily the infidelity that bothers her; it’s the fact that Stolas chose to sleep with an imp, someone who is seen as lesser in Hell’s hierarchy. Every time she brings up his affair, it’s in conjunction with the fact that his affair partner is an imp, not that he betrayed her, or that she’s hurt by his actions. Stella says that she likes tormenting Stolas, that the reason she stays around the house even though she takes Via away on weekends is to remind him of what he did, specifically to try to make him feel guilty for his actions. She cares about how everything reflects on her, not how it might affect their daughter.

And Stolas is the first person to acknowledge that if he had genuinely hurt Stella, he would feel bad about that. But there was never anything between them; their marriage was arranged in order to add a ‘precautionary heir’ to the family, a duty that they fulfilled.  From their conversation before the Not Divorced party, it’s clear that they had at the very least discussed divorce previously, but it came down to how it would look yet again, rather than what would be best for either of them or Octavia. Which is made clear when Stella’s first response to Stolas’ insistence that they are getting The Divorce is “what would the rest of the Goetia family think?”

Her next response is even more telling: she tries to hit Stolas, to backhand him across the face. The only reason she doesn’t make contact is that Stolas stopped her, catching her hand before she could hit him. He was ready for that blow, knew that it was coming, which means that it was not the first time she had hit him. It had happened before, and he knew there was the possibility of it happening again, especially when he finally stood up for himself instead of freezing or fawning to try to keep the peace.

The affair changed the status quo in the family; Stolas made a choice for himself instead of trying to placate Stella and do what would cause the least amount of ripples. That choice exposed what was already broken and festering; it didn’t cause the broken marriage or family. The perfect image that they presented to the outside world never really existed, and it finally became impossible to hide when Stolas actually made a decision for his own wellbeing instead of basing all of his decisions on what would be best for Octavia.

It also cannot be understated that Stella hired an assassin to torture and kill Stolas, who is still the father of her child, because he embarrassed her. There were so many other options available to her, ways she could have gotten revenge on Stolas without killing him, but she went right to assassination and torture. Which would also negatively affect her daughter, especially if she ever found that her father had been killed on her mother’s orders.

The fact that all of this is ascribed to Stolas is nothing short of victim-blaming. When someone is blamed for their own abuse, it blurs the lines between fiction and reality because that is something that happens to real people all the time, myself included. It’s especially important in this case because Stolas is a male victim of domestic violence, who are already far less likely to come forward or to be believed even if they do. Especially if they are also queer.

In conclusion, I am going to continue to sympathize with Stolas. I am going to continue to analyze him through the lens of the trauma he’s been through, and I am going to keep examining and thoughtfully, respectfully exploring his thought process as he deals with the fact that he was a victim of abuse, as he gets away from that and begins to heal.

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

Hi! You are such a delight to read. I feel that our mindsets match on a certain way. Thank you for taking the time on prolonging this useless jikook convo 💀 ( I used to be a hardcore jikooker), but everything recently has been, feels and is LAME. Even if we got the 3J pictures, the white day dinner, and the amount of content? from the concerts, I don’t feel is the same, actually BTS has turned up to be so basic, ONCE AGAIN, trying to appeal the western market.

I understand that is inconvenient to speak you mind with so many projects, endorsements, brands and even politics, but common. They sadly are becoming what their old lyrics were against the most: puppets of the system. 😴😴😴. ( I hope I can swallow my words because I really appreciate them as artists)

Now, to the previous anons asking or feeling down because Jikookers post are so boring and dry, don’t feel alone, there’s a huge group of people who think the same.

Boring, unamusing, predictable, confusing, silly and fully cringy.

Hi! I don't really know when I got this ask 😅 a lot of times I save them on drafts for later and then I just forget. Something happened that made me remember it last night, tho.

For the longest time I've thought that Jimin was probably one of the members who had the most to say. I wasn't sure that he'd say it, because as opinionated and smart as he is, he's also very neutral and avoids conflict. At least publicly. But after seeing the stuff that's been teased from his photofolio, maybe he will speak up to some extent after all. I still don't think he, or any other BTS member will be outspoken and radical about anything, but maybe Jimin won't be so quiet like I had assumed he would be. I think Namjoon could make some points too, but tbh he mostly seems tired of everything 😭 like he just seems done and just going with the flow. Maybe kind of being over it would allow him enough detachment from the public opinion and such, as to speak up his mind.

The conversations have been repeating over and over and over to no end. After the feeling of brand new and exciting that I felt with Jimin's photofolio, the speak yourself final DVD teaser came out and it gave me some sort of whiplash. And the internet actually is Neverland, isn't it? A place where nothing changes, nobody grows old, people stay the same forever. People talk about stuff that happened years ago as if it was happening right now, as if the people they're talking about are the same they were five or ten years ago. It goes for both the good and the bad stuff. Some people get worse as years go by, and some others get better. On the internet you can "cancel" someone because they said something mean fifteen years ago and everyone will go with it, as if that person is stuck in time and whatever they said fifteen years ago is still valid. I see the same it's happening to the fandom, especially to shippers, and it's a very similar feeling to what I felt in 2020 when I said I unfollowed every BTS account because I felt like I was in a time loop. People talk in present tense about things that happened six, four, three years ago. It actually makes me feel like I'm living in a different realm of time. I'm not exaggerating, it's really strange to me. Jimin's photofolio content was exciting, and new, even the possibility of them starting to date openly is/was something to look forward to. I guess the annoying thing for me is that sometimes I check people's accounts and it really feels like everyone is stuck in time, everyone keeps talking about things that happened years ago, even if BTS themselves are long gone. They've moved on. I've talked before how fast things always changed with them, my friend and I would say "BTSyears" as if it was a valid measure of time because they did so much in so little time. They would begin the year one way and they were different people by the time it ended.

Maybe it's because the majority of the fandom is relatively new? Sometimes I just click on accounts, mindlessly browsing through Twitter, and all of them were created in 2021, 2022. So they're still experiencing a lot of stuff that I feel like I've lived through a trillion times. And obviously they have every right to, it's not that I'm annoyed at new fans, not at all. It's just a really really strange feeling for me. I thought I felt that way in 2020 because of the pandemic and quarantine but I've felt the same way for the past few days.

As I was writing this, right where you left me by Taylor Swift came to mind haha. The girl in the song is people on the internet.

[kyliafanfiction]

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[rpbetter]

I often see multis post that they want to make a new muse, at the same time as they're backed up on threads and asks, and they get their followers to "enable" them to make that muse in the post replies. What is your take on this? Is it a they-can-do-what-they-want situation, or is it reasonable to be annoyed when I see this? Or both?

Hey, Anon!

Both.

I mean, as usual, this is my opinion of an opinion-based matter. This isn't an equation that has an objectively right to wrong scale, it isn't actually hurting any living person or thing. But...it is incredibly annoying and can be hurtful.

They can totally do what they want, and much of the nature of genuine creativity is exactly that - the allowance of doing whatever you so desire. It's something I support rather adamantly, but it's also something I support trying our best to do responsibly and without being hurtful to anyone in a hobby that involves more than ourselves.

This isn't deciding to write another fic when you've not finished the previous four or five that others were interested in, or never finishing any of your original fiction, but continually starting new projects. While others might be enjoying those things as well, you didn't agree to interact with them. They're audience members, not participants.

When others are participants in a hobby that has to work both ways, it's different. Your actions do affect other, real human beings.

So, I totally feel like you've a right to be annoyed every time you see that happening. I do. I tend to unfollow people who do that repeatedly, as we're not pursuing the hobby in the same way. I'll argue all day that someone has a right to their, sometimes literally, eighty-plus muses they never develop or stick to, but that doesn't mean I want to engage with them as a writing partner.

For those of us who want long-term writing partners with the same, well-developed muses, this kind of thing just is annoying. As is everything else that comes with it.

As in...

They're constantly posting "talk me out of adding x" as code for "talk me into writing x."

No one actually wants to be talked out of it, which was probably more obvious to everyone else here than it was me for a little while lmao I tend to take things rather literally. This was, as one can imagine, not appreciated! Telling someone in total earnestness, "I really don't think that's a good choice. You're always saying how overwhelmed you are and just dropped multiple threads yesterday, so adding another muse is going to make you feel worse eventually. Don't do it! :)" is so not what they were looking for. As was evident by the return meltdown over how they could do what they wanted, like I said they couldn't or had any authority over what they're doing with their time.

It's an obnoxious bit of pandering for a foregone conclusion.

Have you ever seen anyone who posts that sort of thing not pick up that muse? I haven't. I've only seen muns who are legitimately on the fence about it asking others in private conversations or testing out the muse decide against it. The thing that makes this incredibly irritating is the attention-seeking and need to validate something they must know isn't a great choice, otherwise, they'd just do it. They're aware that they're behind on drafts, asks, and other things - aware that this is maybe a dick move when they owe everyone already. So, they're seeking "permission" with full knowledge that multiple mutuals are going to hop on that post with encouragement, even some of the ones being messed over by this choice.

It puts people in a bad situation.

Some of those people genuinely don't care, they just want to interact with any muse, and I'm going to be awful and say it - they don't care about totally interchangeable muses and have them themselves. That's fine, this isn't a problem for them. It is for the mutuals who are hoping that maybe if their writing partner gets into this new muse, they'll get a reply to their threads with that energy, or that they'll stick to this one and they can have consistent interactions with them. It is for the mutuals who feel pressured to respond positively because they fear not responding at all will make them seem like bad rpers.

One more thing playing into the counter logic excuse for shitty behavior of "it's just a hobby" is one more thing too many, and it does exactly that.

No one wants to be accused of being remotely too invested in RP anymore, of taking it too seriously, or having any emotional investment in muses, stories, or muns. Not accepting every choice someone makes that negatively impacts you with a grin on your face while you dump confetti on them for it just isn't a comfortable option for a lot of muns anymore. Honesty isn't a comfortable option. While the other option isn't either, it seems better than that mutual noticing you're the only writing partner who didn't hop onto that post with support any of the multiple times they reblogged it. It's only a hobby in which everyone can do what they want until what one wants clashes. Then, you're getting a callout for being addicted to RP.

And the way it tends to clash most is in having expectations of others. Ones that would be totally normal in any other hobby requiring interaction with other people.

Like not overburdening yourself at the expense not only of yourself but those on your "team." That's what is being done when someone knows they cannot keep up with themselves, but continues to add to the situation with new muses.

Not only are you no longer getting responses already while they're intending to add even more to their overflowing plate, you'll be dropped again when they have to "fresh start" their blog because they're burned out.

I have to put that in quotations because I don't know how it's a fresh start when you keep everything but the blog layout the same. All the muses and all the behaviors, including adding a new one despite not having the time or interest necessary to do so, is inevitably maintaining the problems that led to burnout. Dropping every thread, changing the URL, a new blog layout, new aesthetics, isn't fixing the issue even if it temporarily reinvigorates the mun.

The mun is definitely doing things that are not helpful to them, it's stressful and upsetting to experience burnout, but it's at least that mun's choice. Both to do it and to become defensive over fixing it, thus, never fixing it. It isn't anyone else's choice to be repeatedly dropped or ignored, though...unless they just keep sticking around for it.

Again, we're supposed to respect everyone's choices. That's fine when it really works that way, when it is truly everyone. But it's not an acceptable decision to see a multimuse of twenty or more muses and say that's your limit, that you've experienced too many muns who are serial muse-adders not being able to keep up with themselves, so you don't interact with these blogs. If one feels that way, they had better not put it in their rules or ever be upfront about this as a reason, when one is demanded, for not following back or interacting.

It's not acceptable to see a writing partner adding another muse after they've owed you for months, just wiped their inbox, and keep expressing being overwhelmed/behind and become annoyed. Let alone dropping them or explaining to them why you are doing so.

The only "acceptable" course of action is hoping that they totally forget you exist so you can quietly slip away.

I don't feel like that's especially fair or mature. It certainly isn't helping the communication problem we absolutely do have here in the RPC when only one party is allowed to communicate without fear of being labeled, rather ironically, as a bad RP partner.

While this problem seems to be most prevalent in more casual RPers, it's certainly not isolated there. I feel like it's necessary to say that I've had muns I both interacted with and were simply on my dash alike who were not on that more casual side who went from being multis to being muse collectors. Once they hit over fifteen of them or so, they stopped even bothering to try to refrain from picking up at least one muse from every new piece of media they consumed or were inspired by.

It was more annoying because they had been capable of writing truly unique characters they stuck to, and even if they were, with full and upfront admission before interaction, slower to respond, those responses were well worth any wait for the quality of writing and storytelling going on. That's so much worse than someone who was always at a lower skill level as a writer, didn't have a good grasp on characterization, and wasn't especially dedicated to anything. It's depressing and disappointing, but it's also not what you think you're getting into when trying to carefully pick who to write with. Like everyone else, my time to enjoy this hobby is far from twenty-four-seven as well. It's important to me to try to choose muns I'll work out with well so that neither of us is wasting the other's time. And that's what it feels like - the investment of time was a waste because their hobby became adding infinite muses, or rather, the idea of muses.

So, yes, while it is fully everyone's right to write what and how they want to (even if it amounts to not writing at all), it'd be nice if we were all as committed to doing so in a way that was adult enough to respect commitments we've made to each other as we are, as a RPC, to losing our minds when someone merely drops the words "commitments" or "respect."

For the inevitable muse-collectors running across this:

Fiction is inspiring! That doesn't mean you needn't be inspired by anything, just that picking up or creating a whole other muse might not be the best way to follow this inspiration.

If you're considering another muse, but you find yourself already behind and/or overwhelmed? Try one of these instead:

create a plot based on it! Write up the idea and put it in your wanted plots/wishlist tag. Bring it up to partners you think might be interested in it as well, or seek out a crossover from that fandom

make it a new verse for an existing muse! This is as close as you get to creating a new muse without actually doing so, and in many ways, it takes even more creativity. How is your muse different in this AU than they are in canon, how are they the same? In the ways that they are the same, what similar events but done in a way that is natural/logical to this universe have happened to maintain that? Get really creative!

for either/both of these, make some moodboards and aesthetics with that energy while you're waiting on someone to take you up on these new things. Answer some HC asks or tag games using your new verse, or write an independent HC for the verse or plot

talk to writing partners who already love that muse about their new verse/your desired plot! No, not pressuring talk, just normal conversation between friends, but maybe they will be interested in starting a thread

simply be inspired to include some aspect of what you liked in an existent thread. A particular scene you could pull ideas from, the overall mood of a film, or the way something was written in a book - include that in your replies somehow! RP is creative writing, be creative

There are so many, honestly more organic, directions to take inspiration than bluntly adding a new muse. Especially when you're already overburdened, not holding up your end of replies, and/or not able to portray each muse as their own character properly.

Sometimes, it's not just not a great idea to add a whole new muse, and that's alright. There seems to be a serious problem with fomo going on with this whole issue, too. You're not going to miss out if you do not immediately add this character to your multi, and you're never going to fully keep up with what is trending anyway. Do it because you still want to write this muse in four months instead, they're obviously not going anywhere if that's the case, and they'll be a better developed, interesting portrayal for that.

And people do have a right to be annoyed when they feel sidelined by you seeing a shiny object and repeatedly pandering for validation in dropping them for it. Particularly if you're a mun who, further, expects everyone to be just as interested in every new muse you make as the last. As in, you're annoyed when you keep creating muses no one is falling over themselves to interact with, guilting, shaming, or outright demanding that this new muse is interacted with before they have access to the previous ones.

They don't have a right to be mean you to, but they have a right to be annoyed and to drop you. They even have a right to politely decline explaining this to you if they feel unsafe, or to politely explain it to you before they move on.

Absolutely everyone's right to pursue RP and every facet of it as they so please, but no one else has to like what you're doing.

If this response grates on some of you out there? Consider the other options you have, how you might be making others feel, and that it's actually completely okay to tell yourself no. You won't perish if you tell yourself no to taking on a new muse when you, honestly, should not! It'll be okay! Maybe, you just need to evaluate if there is another muse, or more than one, you should remove before adding one. Maybe, you just need some time to reorganize how you reply before you add this one. "No" when told to yourself can simply mean "no, not right now, it isn't a good time/situation."

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

"should i ask for song requests?" MA'AM- anyways Show Me Love by Mali Hood with Cal pls

LMAO, look, it’s just a thought. Also I love Mali, but Robin S’s version--a BOP. So I’m going to base it off that version. 

It’s long, whoops. 

CW: Mentions of gaining weight. So if you’re sensitive, feel free to skip this! 

___________

It wasn’t in Calum’s plan to be out this late. He had planned to finish up the first season of Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix. He had planned to order himself a pizza, extra large so that he could have a few slices for lunch tomorrow too and possibly a White Claw, or two, or more. Who knows? He surely wasn’t going to count those calories. 

However, when Calum and Ashton found themselves deep into the evening running over lyrics along with some other friends and somebody mentioning hitting up a bar nearby to get some food, Calum figured he could tag along. He’d avoid drinking until he got home but greasy bar food could be an easy substitute for pizza. 

It’s as Calum dips the end of fries into the ranch given on the side a tap sounds of the speakers, cutting through the music that’s been playing in the background. “Hope everyone’s doing great tonight,” a voice states. 

Calum looks over his shoulder to see a man up on a stage. “Karaoke’s opening up in fifteen minutes. Find me at the bar to sign up or feel free just to jump in.”

“Oh, we gotta stay for this,” Ashton laughs. The rest of the group readily agrees and Calum shrugs, polishing off the last half the fries before going in for another bite of his sandwich. 

It’s not until the music cuts out again that Calum realizes the fifteen minutes as flown by. The first two people are a little wobbly, and giggling into the mic as they sing their choice in song. One goes for Journey which gets most of the room to sing along too. It hits a lull after about the fourth person. The DJ calls for people who didn’t sign up to just jump in. 

There’s a thick silence and across the room, Calum catches a shriek. “We have one!”

He turns to the shrill and sees a pocket of girls at a booth. Three of them are tugging at a fourth that remains seated, shaking her head. However, her unwillingness is no match to her friends and they end up dragging her to the stage. Calum watches as she speaks for a moment to the DJ. 

Her friends cheer front and center. Their claps somehow echo throughout the entire building. Under the light, Calum can see more of her features, high cheekbones, brown skin dazzling and peaking out from the fishnets covering her long legs. She chuckles nervously into the mic just as the music cuts in. The low sound, the husky voice makes Calum gasps. 

He hadn’t seen her ages since they ended their fling. And she looked different--her cheeks were fuller. The weight gain made her look healthier than ever. She looked fucking good in the green plaid mini shirt and white high neck sleeves top. Her thighs shake just a little as she taps the beat out with her heel and soon, she belts out the opening note to Show Me Love vocalizing before the lyrics are pushed out from her chest. 

What hadn’t changed as how at ease she seemed to be on the stage. Though she always protested it. The second someone put a mic in her hand and a spotlight on her, she turned into a whole new person. “I really need a lover, a lover that wants to be there,” she belts out and smiles before stepping down the stairs. 

Through the crowd, she dances, singing along to the electronic beat holding steady. “You got to show me love,” her voice dips to match the note change and she points out to someone in the crowd, singing to them for a moment before twirling her way down the room. The crowd eats up, cheering along as she sings and taking moments to dance along with her. 

“Words are so easy to say a lie, you got to show me love. I’m tired of getting caught up in the one night affairs,” she sings and gaze lands on Calum. Her eyes go wide. They hadn’t really run in the same circles for a while after Calum ended things. 

And admittedly, he ended them for legitimate reasons. She was leaving for school abroad and said they could try to just be friends. But that wasn’t something he was looking for and rather than string her along knowing he’d ultimately be breaking her heart, he was honest. And she understood that. She thanked him for it. 

It was harder than he thought it would be--watching her leave. He wanted to text her, reach out and see how things were going, if she had settled in nicely. And the urges lasted longer than Calum had never admitted to anyone, but they did eventually dissipate; it took him unfollowing her social media. 

And come to think of it, he still noticed when she liked something of his--as few and far between as his postings were and he wasn’t even that active on his private account but whenever he was, she always wound up liking it. Every notification made his heart flutter just a little. 

She moves on, still not missing a beat to the song, though she does brush a hand over Calum’s shoulder as she passes, sending a wink his way before she carries herself to the bar. Her heeled boots wind up clicking up and down the length of the bar counter. She dances with a few more people, women and men, smiling as she twirls about. 

Returning back to the stage, the last note falling off from the speaker, she thanks the crowd and DJ and quickly steps back down the steps. The crowd gives her a standing ovation and she waves before returning back to her booth. Calum’s thankful he’s on the end and excuses himself for a second. No one seems bothered by his exit--Ashton’s the only one that could possibly recognize her and it’s not shock he doesn’t.

Calum walks over to the table and even though she’s smushed into the corner, on the side of the group, he knows he can’t leave this bar tonight with talking to her. He smiles as he approaches the table. “Evening, ladies.” Everyone is at lost for words but at least smile and nod at his approach. “I-I just wanted to say that that was a great performance. You’re extremely talented.”

“Thanks,” she returns, leaning out. “Would you believe it if I said I don’t do that sort of thing often.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he laughs softy. He goes to ask her to talk, or if she needs a refill but the air’s tense, a little awkward. “But honestly, you were amazing.” He nods again at her and throws up a quick wave before continuing on like he’s headed to the bathrooms. That is not how he wanted that to go. But how does he act like the last they haven’t lost contact for nearly four years. Calum splashes some water onto his face, staring up into the mirror. 

She remembered him, clearly. Maybe it was that defense mechanism, the part of him that was trying to tell him that it was too much time passed. She possibly had moved on from all of that. Yeah, she probably had moved on, Calum thinks to himself. If she had, there would be no use in trying to make a move, he’d get rejected anyway. 

He grabs some paper towel and dries his face and hands before pushing open the door to the bathroom. He doesn’t get more than a four steps from the door before a voice calls out his name, “Calum. Hey, wait.” A hand grabs to his elbow. 

He spins to find her, smiling a bit lopsided and lips still glossy as they always were all those years ago, with also a bit of a darker lip liner around the edges. “Sorry,” she rushes out, dropping her hand from his elbow. “I just-I just wanted to say thanks. For the compliment. And, uh, if you weren’t busy, if you wanted to catch up sometime. Over a drink, coffee, lunch, whatever.”

“I would love that,” he exhales in a rush. 

“Cool. Here’s my number--I had to change it become of my ex, but that’s not what I want to focus on.” She hands out a napkin with numbers scribbled onto it. “Just text me and we can arrange a date and time.”

Calum takes it with a nod, reaching for his phone from inside his pants pocket. “I’ll text you so you have my number too.” He taps her number in before typing a quick message and pressing send. 

“To be honest, I didn’t think you’d recognize me or like want to talk or anything.”

“What-what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, there might just be a pound or two more on me than the last time you saw me. And when I left, we kind of just ended things and I-I don’t know. We hadn’t spoken in a while. I just moved back into town about six months ago. Seeing you just made me feel like I did when I was 19.”

Calum can’t lie and say he never suspected that she had feelings for him. At that time, he wasn’t looking for anything. “Well, first, you still look fucking gorgeous so I wouldn’t worry at all about that. Things are different now. I’m looking for different things now.” She nods, casting a look to the floor. “It’s like the song said,” Calum continues, “I’m tired of giving my love and getting no where.”

“You probably think I’m crazy or something, all these years. But there’s always been something about you, Calum. Something I couldn’t shake.”

“Nah, it can’t be me. Do you know how many times when you first left I almost messaged you? And I know I kinda put a cork in things then. But if you think there’s something about me, allow me to introduce you to yourself.”

She laughs, playfully slapping at his bicep. “Oh god. Quit while you’re behind.”

Calum laughs in return, watching the way she shakes her head. “What are you doing tomorrow, around 1?”

“Um, nothing. Tomorrow’s my day off. Why?”

“Let’s get lunch. Anywhere you want to go.”

“There’s a new sushi place. Just up the block from here.” She rattles off the name and Calum nods. He went there last week to try it out. “There if you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay,” Calum agrees. “But uh, I don’t want to take you away from your friends too long. So I’ll see you there tomorrow, at 1.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah. Tomorrow at one.” She steps into him, almost as she’s going to bypass him but stops just before doing so fully. Her hand comes up to his cheek and she presses a kiss before finally stepping away. Calum exhales, lungs nearly collapsing in his chest. He forgot that about her--how she was open and actionable, always willing to make the first step even if blew up in her face. 

He watches her, finally composed enough to turn around as she slips back into the booth with her friends. He hears her laughter above the sounds of Led Zeppelin, another person singing for the crowd. 

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 2

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing

A/N: Here is chapter two! Cast members are what Disney calls its employees. Italics are internal thoughts. Tag list is open, please send an ask if you would like to be added. Likes, comments, and reblogs are wonderful.

Chapter 1

When he added you on Twitter, that was strange enough. You could reason it out that he saw your name spread through the tagged post and he did it on a whim. Or maybe he followed a lot of people. But that one was easily debunked after a quick glance at his profile showed he only followed about three hundred people. Maybe he was just friendly in that way. A quick add here and you’d be unfollowed by Thanksgiving. There was no chance he actually liked you as a person. Right?

You hit reply before you could overthink it more than you already had.

Y/N: I’m not always grumpy, I’ll have you know.

Y/N: Are you guys still on vacation or back home?

When he didn’t immediately reply, you decided to put your phone away and actually go to sleep. You’d be bringing Jana coffee in the morning which meant you actually had to get up before noon.

Your alarm sounded at eight which it hadn’t done in at least a year. Since you worked mainly on assignment, you rarely went into the office until well past noon. Some days you didn’t even go in. You were a night owl, so unless there was a morning meeting you slept in. Living alone also brought less interruptions to your schedule. You’d been in your sleepy vacation style home for the last two years. Your father regularly lectured you on the importance of homeowner ship. Paying rent wasn’t doing anything to build equity. Blah. Blah. Blah. He was only looking out for your future, but between lectures about settling down and having a family, the house stuff pushed you over the top. You still weren’t sure where you wanted to end up, so buying wasn’t on the top of your priority list.

Florida really was a mixed bag. Between the retires that lived in Florida during the winter months, the tourists, the general crazies that you heard about on the national and local news each night, and those like yourself that were just trying to live your life, you never officially settled in. The ocean called to you, but the pricey lifestyle and fear of evacuating each year due to a hurricane did not. Being fifteen minutes from both the Disney and Universal parks would also be nice, but the traffic and long lines at Target were not appealing. You were currently living in a cute two-bedroom home fifteen minutes outside the parks bubble where life was a little more affordable and groceries weren’t inflated. It was still technically a vacation rental, but the owner liked the idea of having a long-term leaser. The fact that it had its own pool that you didn’t have to maintain was just an added bonus. Driving into Orlando wasn’t great, but at least you missed the bulk of rush hour by sleeping in.

You texted Jana to let her know you just pulled in to the parking lot. Balancing your laptop bag, oversized purse, and two coffees through a busy office rotunda wasn’t easy. Thank goodness for stylish flats. If you had to navigate in heels every day, you’d probably never get out of bed. God bless Jana. How she handled it, you had no idea.

The security desk knew you by name, but due to protocol, Jana actually had to sign you in. After exchanging a few good mornings, you set both cups on the desk and waited. Most of the time she was already in the lobby when you walked through the double doors. No doubt this was a form of punishment for not telling her about meeting the two boys from Boston. Not that you looked that up or anything. You totally didn’t Google anything that night when you got home. And she calls you the brat. Ten minutes later her smiling face walks out of the elevator and up to the security desk. She signs you in while you stare her down.

“Let’s go pokey,” she says before turning away from you, leaving you to carry your bags and both of your coffees.

You huff but manage anyway, making it to the waiting elevator she holds open with her hand.

“Did you know Phil’s wife just had another baby?” She shakes her head no. “Yeah, it’s their third. These are things I wouldn’t know if you didn’t take your sweet time signing me in. Coffee’s cold by the way,” you add for good measure.

“I already had some, that’s fine,” she said, one eyebrow pointed daring you to complain.

When the elevator stops on the twelfth floor, Jana gracefully exits on three inch heels, swaying her hips in the tight and posh pencil skirt with matching blazer. You get it. It’s a well-established law firm full of sharks all trying to get ahead. She exudes confidence. There are whispers of her making partner in the next year. At least that’s what Brooks has told you. Jana’s mum on the subject, not wanting to jinx or tempt fate or whatever.

You drop her coffee in the trash bin just outside the elevator doors and hurry after.

“Y/N! Nice to see you gracing us with your presence.”

Jana turns around to see Ethan’s predatory stare. You don’t mind it. Ethan’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing and has been coming on to you for the better part of a year. He’s good looking with his sandy brown hair coiffed in the front and bright green eyes. He’s up for partner as well. You know this because he tells you this at least once a week. He’s harmless and always has a kind word for you.

“Well, good morning to you too. Any word on getting partner yet?” you practically whisper. You have to give him something.

“Soon. It’ll happen.” He looks behind you and then meets your eyes again. “Here by yourself? Come to see me?” he asked.

You gesture behind him. “Nope. Just here to see my bestie.” You move past him, but turn your head to him as you do. “Have a good day, Ethan,” you reply.

Jana enters her office and closes the door after you enter. You take a seat in front of her desk as she walks around to sit behind it.

“Are you ever going to throw him a bone? Not that I want to see you with him, but it’s hard to watch sometimes,” she says picking up her phone, fingers moving quickly before setting it back down.

“Am I here to talk about Ethan? I thought I was here to beg for your forgiveness and tell you what happened,” you asked.

“Grovel first. Ethan next week,” Jana says with a smile. She taps her desk in a ‘speak now’ fashion.

Taking a quick sip of your coffee before setting it on her desk, you take a deep breath and lick your lips.

“Okay, so I found a table at Nomad, which was packed by the way. The sever was apparently pulling double duty as Mickey as she just never showed up. You know me, I was impatient and probably drew attention to myself with excessive eyerolls or whatever.”

Jana mouths “no way.”

“Anyway. Scott Evans was sitting at a couch across the aisle from my table. I didn’t know it was him until later. Apparently, I caught his attention, so he bought us both a drink and sat at my table. We chatted for a while, did a shot, no big deal.” You smirk and shrug a shoulder. Jana’s mouth is hanging open. “He somehow drags me to Everest and because they had a cast member with them, we got ushered right to the front of the line where I end up sitting next to Chris. That’s when I knew who I was with. Had no idea before that because I hadn’t talked to Chris at the bar. I thought that was the end of it until you mentioned the photo of me last night. I still hate that ride by the way.”

You down the rest of your coffee because it’s cold, but damnit if you don’t need the caffeine.

“Well, fuck. Who would ever see that coming? It’s a fun story you can tell at parties or I don’t know, to your best friend,” she said.

“Oh, I planned to tell Brooks at work,” you said with a grin.

“Wow. I’m really hurt,” Jana said while clutching her chest.

“You love me.”

“Hmph. Maybe,” Jana added.

You don’t check your Twitter account again until you get home from work. You don’t even want to utter the word Twitter or have it on your screen in case someone sees it and starts asking how you were able to sit next to a celebrity on a ride. You didn’t think anyone would have seen it anyway. No one outwardly admitted to being a die-hard Chris Evans fan at the Sentinel. At least not in the circles you ran in.

Grabbing yourself a beer from the fridge, you made your way onto your lanai. The weather had just started to become reasonable at night with temps dropping into the mid seventies after dark. Still warm, but comfortable.

Opening your Twitter app, you did indeed have a message from Scott.

Scott: I’m pretty sure you’re always sassy.

Scott: Nope, in Boston for the next week. Left the other night.

Y/N: I Hope you all had a good trip.

I mean really, what do you say to someone you just met?

You took the time to go through your follow requests, deleting every one of them as you had no idea who they were. Most likely they were only adding your because they saw that you were tagged in the picture. On the positive, Jana was smart enough to tag your personal account rather than your work account. Your personal account was one you made up in college and did not include your actual name. As hard as it is to keep your anonymity in this day and age, some things you could still keep private.

Your mail notification lit up on the app again so you clicked into.

Scott: Oh my god she’s alive. That was like a full day for you to respond to me.

Oh boy.

Y/N: Sorry. I’m trying to lay low after my Twitter kind of blew up.

Scott: Yeah, sorry about that. Didn’t see that coming.

Y/N: Not like you released the picture. If anyone is to blame, it’s the tequila.

Scott: It’s always the tequila.

 Your new formed friendship continued like that. The two of you messaging each other at odd times of the day and taking several hours to respond to one another. Scott was back in LA, putting a three hour time difference between the two of you. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up to see you had a message that came in at three in the morning.

It was just before midnight when you noticed you had a message from Scott.

Scott: It’s been a shit day.

It was only sent about twenty minutes earlier, which was pretty much a record for the two of you in seeing the other’s messages.

Y/N: Do you want to call me?

Crap! Why did I type that? He probably doesn’t want me to have his number. Twitter is one thing. A telephone number is too personal.

You wanted to close the app and get ready for bed, but you were worried that you’d miss a message from Scott in case he did want to talk. Not necessarily on the phone, but in direct messages. You did the only thing that made since, you walked around your house with the phone in your hand and direct messages open. This was your life now. Apparently. If it ever got out that you spent thirty minutes with your phone in your hand while brushing your teeth, combing your hair, removing your makeup, changing into pajama shorts and a tee, and prepping the coffee maker for the morning, you’d blame it on lack of sleep and the neighbor’s dog. When you were about to call it quits and crawl into bed, a message came through.

Scott: What’s your number?

So, we’re doing this.

You replied back with your number and waited. Deciding to crawl into bed in case he didn’t actually call you tonight seemed like a wise choice. The air conditioning was blasting as it always was because you needed to sleep cold, so you pulled your warm flower comforter up to your elbows and waited for a call from your acquaintance that was maybe becoming a friend.

To your surprise your phone did ring with an out of state area code. Answering it on the second ring you heard him sigh when you answered with “Hello, this is Grumpy.”

“Really? I’m the grumpy one tonight, we both can’t be,” he whined out.

“Fine. Fine. Hello, this is Sassy,” you said.

“Better,” he muttered.

“You know, I’m just going to enter you as Grumpy in my phone contacts now,” you said.

“I expect nothing less. You’ll just have to wait to see what I’m adding you as.”

“Why? Are you making a return trip to Florida so soon?” you asked.

“Nah. Maybe Miami, but I’m good on Orlando for a while. Just don’t tell my brother that.”

“And here I was going to invite you to my wedding. One less mouth to feed,” you said, him chuckling at your response. “Was even going to let you get the steak.”

“Wait. Are you really getting married?” He sounded surprised which you weren’t sure how to take.

“Do I not seem the marrying type? I know this friendship is new, but dude.”

“No. No. No. Don’t start that. I just meant that you didn’t mention anyone while we chatted. Just that you were there with friends,” he explained.

“Single as a bird. Wait, that’s not right. Free as a bird?” you laughed out.

“Got it,” he chuckled. “When you do get married, I will be attending.”

“Perfect. You’re back on the short list for steak as your entrée. Now, tell my why you’re having a shit day,” you asked.

 Two weeks had passed with you and Scott exchanging short text conversations each day. You took to calling him before you went to bed once or twice a week if you had a funny story to tell him. Eleven at night your time seemed to be the right time to catch each other. Besides, it was nice to head to dreamland with a smile on your face because Scott always had a joke.

Jana picked up on your happier mood after a week.

“What’s going on with you? And don’t say it’s nothing,” she demanded.

Picking up your pint of beer, you took a mouthful of the amber liquid before addressing her.

“So, don’t get mad.” She shook her head, resting one palm on her forehead. “Scott and I have been chatting. He’s become a real friend.”

You knew she wouldn’t be upset about you having a new friend, but you were worried she would be because you hadn’t told her right away. First you didn’t mention meeting the Evans brothers, now you were corresponding with one on the regular.

“Just like that? You meet the guy one time and now you’re friends?” she questioned.

“He DM’d me on Twitter when that ride photo came out and we just started chatting. It’s like how you and I text every day. It’s similar except I don’t see him because he doesn’t live here. It’s just nice to have a new friend,” you said shrugging your shoulders.

She laid her slender arms on the table, resting her chin on her down facing palms. “Does this mean you are replacing me?” she says with her bottom lip jutting out.

“Of course not. Did you not catch that he doesn’t live here?” Some days you couldn’t help but be a huge smartass at the expense of your friends.

Her head slumped forward even more as she let of a groan.

“Babe. You know you’re my one and only. I lub you,” you said with your lips puckering out.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“Cah’mon, that’s it. Can you put the damn phone down for two minutes?” Chris asked.

Scott shushed him, placing his fingers in front of his lips, but eyes still locked on the phone screen in his other hand. “Give me a second,” he said.

Chris sighed and sat further back against the couch cushion in his living room. His wide stretched legs kicked out further in front of him, hitting the coffee table before pulling his feet back a bit. “Fuck. Ouch,” he muttered to himself.

Scott chuckled to himself as he typed out something before setting the phone on the cushion beside him. “Now, what do you need big brother?”

“I don’t need anything. You just seem to be more involved with your phone than the person your visiting,” he spits out, hand wildly gesturing in front of his chest.

Scott puffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He straightens up a bit and turns his phone face down. “Sorry. Truly. How’ve you been?” he asks.

“How’ve I been? Pfft. Really?” Chris asks.

Scott shakes his head in all seriousness.

“I’m fine. Just bored out of my fahckin’ mind, but fine.” Chris says, running a hand through his hair before brushing it back down. “Look, I know I said I wanted a break before starting up another project, but I just thought I’d have more goin’ on. Seems like everyone’s so busy all of a sudden. I can only get drinks with Frankie so many times before I want to check into rehab,” he said.

Scott laughed at his brother’s tantrum. “I get it. Wish I was around more. Maybe go back to Mass. Or go to Disney! M’sure I could get Y/N to meet you at Magic Kingdom,” he said.

Chris tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Who?” he asked.

“Y/N,” Scott said matter-of-factly. When the confusion didn’t wipe off Chris’ face, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Y/N! The woman that you sat next to on Everest. The one in the ride photo.”

Realization struck Chris. “Excuse me. I didn’t remember her name,” he said.

“Ouch. I’ll have to remember not to tell her that,” he said picking up his phone to see a new message from you.

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

Scott set his phone back down, turning his body to face Chris head on. “Huh?”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her that I didn’t remember her name,” Chris said.

Scott shrugged one shoulder, lifting up one hand in the process before plopping it back on his knee. “Yeah?”

“Wait a minute. Are you still talkin’ to her? How?” Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“That picture. She got tagged in it and I happened to see it. Messaged her on there and now we talk. She’s frickin’ hilarious.”

Scott grabbed his phone again, scrolling a bit before flashing the screen to Chris. It was a picture of you with a woman next to you who had one of the overly large lollipops in her hand. Your mouth is wide open and your pretending to bite the large candy right out of her hand while she laughs in the picture.

A small smile curls up on Chris’ face but he shakes it away immediately. “Dude, you don’t know her. Ever think she’s just nice to you because of who you are?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “First off punk, she’s not like that. She’s pretty private. She didn’t know who any of us were until after you said your name on the ride. Secondly, she didn’t even ask for a photo nor did she try to keep hanging out with us after riding Everest.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Thirdly, I contacted her, not the other way around. And lastly, she’s a friend now, so just deal with it.”

Scott was right. You hadn’t behaved like most others would have.

“Fine. Whatever,” Chris said. “You can be friends with whoever you like.”

“Thanks, dad,” Scott said lamely. “Anyway, like I said, she’s great. Her Twitter blew up after that picture. She did a good job of locking her account down and ignoring comments. It’s hard to be pictured with the likes of you.” Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Smart that her handle isn’t actually her name. Crappy that her friend tagged her, but at least she didn’t tag her work one. Like I said, she’s a pretty private person, so she didn’t like the attention.”

Chris nodded his head. “Yeah. Glad it wasn’t worse for her. Think I should apologize?”

It was Scott’s turn to be shocked. His head whipping back and forth a couple of times eyeing his brother. “Okaaay. Not your fault, but maybe don’t add her on Twitter. That’ll just draw more attention. If you’re serious, I’ll give you her number,” Scott said.

“You know what? Never mind. Just tell her sorry for me.” Chris slapped his hands down on his jean clad legs before getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“Too late,” Scott called out. “I just texted you her number. Do what you want.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The Jonas Brothers’ concert was tomorrow night, so you were doing your best to get stuff done at the paper before heading home. You planned to sleep in extra late and get some errands done before heading to the venue. Your press pass got you into some reserved places at concerts, but it didn’t get you an interview. While you had been writing and covering entertainment for years, you were mostly known for theme park and tourism coverage in Florida. So, yes you could always land an interview with a Disney Parks or Universal Studios park executive, but other doors in entertainment weren’t flying open.

Grabbing your purse and zip file, you shut down your computer and pushed in your chair. Your phone dinged with a text message. It was probably Jana asking you to get her a t-shirt at the concert tomorrow. Fancy attorney or not, your friend loved a concert tee.

Once you arrived home, you put a frozen meal in the microwave and changed into a pair of sweats and a comfy t-shirt. Grabbing your phone out of your bag, you took a seat sat at your kitchen bar top to wait for your meal to be done. Opening your texts, you saw a new one from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey Y/N, this is Chris. Scott gave me your number.

Unknown Number: Evans

Unknow Number: Should have typed that the first time. Just wanted to say I’m sorry that ride photo got out.

You dropped your phone out of your hand. It hit the quartz countertop hard which jolted you out of your daze.

“What?!” you yelled into your empty home.

It was crazy enough when Scott messaged you, but the fact that the two of you had drank together made this whole friendship make a tiny bit of sense. But Chris now? This was just not real. And it made you feel weird. On one hand it was nice that he reached out even though it wasn’t his fault at all. One the other hand, was this it? The one text and then you move on?

The microwave beeped at your harshly indicating your meal was done. Leaving your phone on the countertop, you moved to grab your food, picking up the hot plate with a potholder. You made your way into the living room, setting the potholder and plate on your lap. You picked up the remote for the TV, flipping through the channels and settling on The Golden Girls. Maybe a little Rose and Dorothy banter could settle your mind.

This was silly. You were going to text him back. Of course, you were going to text him back. You weren’t a rude person. This whole exchange didn’t have to mean anything. This would be a one and done conversation and to Chris you would go on being nothing more than Scott’s friend.

After scarfing down your cheese ravioli, you made your way back to the kitchen to clean up. You eyed the phone on the counter where you left it. You quickly scooped it up and plopped yourself back on the couch, opening Chris’ text again before you could change your mind.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but that photo getting released was not your fault at all. I appreciate the gesture though.

You threw your head back against your couch cushion and groaned. Why am I responding like it’s a work e-mail?

You shot Jana a text to get your mind off of the message you just sent Chris.

Y/N: What size Jonas Brothers shirt am I picking up for you?

Your phone buzzed in your hand before you even had the chance to set it down, but it wasn’t Jana responding. Clicking the back arrow, you saw that Chris had responded.

Wait, he responded? Already? And at all?

Chris: I still feel bad that you were dragged into it.

Chris: Hope I’m not interrupting a Friday night out.

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to think of how to respond. Should you tell the truth that your life is pretty lame and you’re watching The Golden Girls? Did Scott talk about you to Chris? Maybe it was best not to lie.

Y/N: Just hanging out with my friends Dorothy, Blanche, and Rose.

Y/N: You’re actually saving me from another long drawn out story about Rose’s hometown of St. Olaf Minnesota.

Chris: I’m surprised your friend Blanche is home on a Friday night.

Y/N: Oh, you know Blanche? Is this going to become awkward?

Chris: 😂😂😂

Chapter 3

Tag list: @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @sullyosully @straightforwardly​ @torntaltos​ @denise1605​ @mcuclintasha​ @southerngracela​ @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom​ @chrisevansforever-blog​ @kelbabyblue​ @broadwayandnetflix​ @kyjey​ @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like​ @daddieslittlefangirl​ @stankface​ @denisemarieangelina​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @whymalu​ @the-doctors-fallen-angel​ @mariswritingforfun​ @tessabb7​ @hista-girl​ @tanelle83​ @pinknerdpanda​ @allaboutthebooz​ @estillion14​ @panicfob​ @patzammit​ @heartislubbingdubbing​ @collinsstanharbour​ @twittytelly​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @linki-locks11​ @mywinterwolf​ @ab-baybay​ @rda1989​ @impalaimages​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @rainbowkisses31���

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 6. i’ll be your arms, i’ll be your steady satellite

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

The Santiago Siblings with families spend a weekend together, Amy’s feeling weird, and Jake’s getting suspicious.

september.

Amy throws out the ovulation tests first. Then, most of the pregnancy tests.

She keeps a few, in case of emergencies, but she hides them so far inside their bathroom cabinet, buried underneath boxes of band-aids and disinfectant wipes, she tells herself it’s the same thing.

 She also throws out the vitamin supplements and the gross herbal teas, and puts the cherished pages of the fertility binder through her paper shredder while Jake shakes his head at her.

“You’re being crazy,” he states when she empties the paper confetti in the trash, immediately tying the bag shut and placing it by the door.

“Nope,” she responds. “I’m finally being sane.”

She stops doing yoga, not that she got into a habit with it in the first place. She goes back to her usual diet and coffee habits. She deletes every fertility-related bookmark off of her computer and unfollows all the Instagram accounts she once tried to find support in. There’s a smidge of panic and hard-hitting grief the first few times she sees a pregnant person somewhere, a harsh pain that comes with knowing for certain she’ll never experience it again, but most of all, Amy feels free. As heartrending as the knowledge is, she’d take it over uncertainty any day of the week.

 Her days of the week are moving quickly, too. It's like the moment she stopped being consumed by this, the rest of her life caught up with her, and now it’s speeding past. Leah starts her first Tiny Tots preschool class, and her parents cry for a good ten minutes after dropping her off the first time because their baby is growing up and it’s all moving too fast. They start doing proper research on allergy-friendly cats and even schedule a visit at a cattery. Work speeds up and she has to work overtime for more days in a row than she's done since having a kid, making her fear their apartment will fall into pieces and her daughter forget who she is, but she comes home each night to dinner on the table and Leah in pajamas begging her to read a bedtime story. She makes sure to thoroughly thank her husband, especially the night when there’s a takeout box with potato pancakes waiting for her, and promises him a proper reward once the weekend rolls around.

“Cool, cool,” he mumbles half-asleep as he makes himself the little spoon in bed. “Also, while we’re on the topic, those potato pancakes definitely weren’t because Leah and I had ice cream for dinner. In case you were thinking that.”

“Jake.”

“Mm. Goodnight, babe.”

 Even without the fertility treatments, her free time between work and family life remains strictly limited, but she does manage to squeeze in something much needed. Every other Thursday night at eight o’clock sharp, Amy finds herself outside the door to Rosa’s apartment, and every night Rosa cuts right to the chase.

“You’re not pregnant?”

“Nope.”

“Not taking any fertility medication?”

“Stopped them all.”

“Take a shot, Santiago.”

She’s decided not to tell more people about her experiences, doesn’t see the point when all she wants is to forget, but every other Thursday night, she vents. Rosa lets her speak, sometimes offering commentary but mostly just nodding, and Amy’s pleasantly surprised to discover it helps.

She’s not alone, and most importantly, she’s going to be okay again.

 ~

 october.

As the end of October arrives, it becomes time for the weekend with all the Santiago siblings and their families renting a cabin upstate. Tony calls it a tradition even though it's the first time they're doing it, but when Amy points this out, he simply shrugs and says it's important to have goals in life.

At first, she's skeptical about it - spending four days in a cabin with fifteen adults, thirteen kids and one dog feels like a polar opposite to the relaxed family time she craves - but it's been forever since she saw them all and she supposes she could use some time away from Brooklyn’s buzzing city life, so they decide to go. She nearly regrets it after three hours in the car with the Frozen-soundtrack on repeat, but then they reach their destination, and all is forgiven when Leah runs to hug all her cousins.

 Friday morning, they arrange a big leaf fight in the yard. At first, it's kids against adults, but as more and more children drop out, it becomes Santiago siblings against partners, and as more and more adults drop out too, eventually it's just Amy and Julian against Jake. The fight lasts until Jake starts complaining about there being leaves in his ear. At that point, Amy's laughing so hard her stomach hurts.

“Loser does all the dishes after lunch,” Julian grins, and Jake looks like he's about to cry.

Amy checks in on him after ten minutes. His shirt is wet from the soapy water and she can see the terror in his eyes as he looks to the mountain of dirty plates, glasses, and cutlery, but he’s scrubbing hard at them one by one with furious determination.

“Need any help, babe?” She sneaks her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling out a small twig that’s still stuck in the back of his hair.

“Desperately,” he groans, wiping his hands on his jeans and facing her. “But I have to prove my strength to your brothers.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Julian just wanted a reason to see you in a wet t-shirt.”

“He could have just asked.”

Amy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help you out.”

He squints. “Are you sure? You look kind of... tired.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you look a little - I don’t know - pale? Did you not have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish it. Creamer tasted weird.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she shuts him up with a glare. “I’m fine. Come on, I’ll help you finish these.”

 -

 They manage to get done right on time for a family walk in the woods. Leah makes it about a quarter of a mile before she starts complaining, so Jake carries her on his shoulders, which results in immediate chaos and tears from David’s twins when they demand the same and David can’t carry them both. Amy helps her brother by carrying Samuel on her shoulders, but the kid must have dog hair on his clothes from playing with Julian's dog, because her nose gets stuffy after only a minute. If it weren’t for the animal being straight-up adorable, or for Leah's excitement when Julian asks her if she wants to hold Oscar’s leash for a minute, Amy swears she would be yelling at this dog, too.

 The stuffy nose lasts for the entire afternoon, and she curses the fact that she forgot her allergy nasal sprays at home. Luckily, she’s surrounded by plenty of good distractions, and the afternoon disappears in a jumble of trying to keep different children from hurting themselves or others while also trying to make sure they’re happy, and if she’s not watching any kids, she’s trying to keep up with what feels like a billion different conversations going on at the same time. It’s enough to make anyone exhausted. She tries to have another cup of coffee, black this time to avoid the probably-bad creamer, but she only gets down a few sips before her throat goes all dry and she has to breathe real hard for the nausea to pass. She pours out the rest in the kitchen sink.

 Despite her tiredness and stuffy nose and sudden coffee aversion, Amy has a lovely day. When afternoon becomes evening, everyone who isn’t cooking dinner makes their way down to the nearby lake to watch the sunset. Leah’s in Jake’s arms with her head on his shoulder, looking all cozy in her purple fluffy hoodie as she sings the lyrics to Moana in the wrong order, and Amy can’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet little face until Leah grimaces and says stop, mama, hiding her face in Jake’s shirt as he laughs.

They’re her favorite sight in the world - the love of her life, and the child who’s held Amy’s whole heart in her hands since the first time she waved to them on an ultrasound screen over three years ago. Jake whispers something to Leah that Amy can’t hear, the girl giggles, and her heart aches with how much she loves them. She may never get the kids-plural family she pictured in her younger days, but she gets this, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

 -

When all the kids have gone to bed - save for seven-month-old Charlie, who’s wide awake and happy to get passed around between different pairs of arms - the adults gather in the living room for a chance at uninterrupted conversation and a glass of wine. Amy finds space in the corner of a couch, with Jake on her left and Tony’s wife Clara in an armchair on her right, and gratefully accepts the glass of red wine Lucas gives her. She takes a sip, first enjoying the taste, but the second sip tastes off and the third is awful. She tries to hide her grimace as she puts it down on the side table and asks for a glass of water instead.

 She's not really listening to the conversation, zoning out and just enjoying the comfort of Jake's arm around her shoulders, but Clara nudging her arm gets her attention.

“Do you want to hold Charlie for a while, Amy?”

“I’d love to,” she says, and the next second there's a baby in her arms who's shooting her the brightest of toothless smiles and reaching for her necklace. Charlie’s chubby fingers try to grab the L and J-pendants, so she gently separates his hands from them and he starts playing with a sling of her hair instead.

“Oh, you're strong,” she laughs as he grips it. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Clara laughs. “Sometimes he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Amy smiles. The baby is already snuggling his head into her chest, making himself comfortable. He's truly adorable with round cheeks and light-ginger hair, melting her heart as he grips onto her shirt.

She's missed this. Still, it’s less painful now that she knows - she might never have more babies of her own, but she’ll always have plenty of nephews and nieces to hold, cuddle and play with.

“You're adorable,” she whispers to Charlie with a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Amy?” David catches her attention from the opposite couch. “Aren't you guys going to have more kids?”

She can feel Jake freeze next to her.

“We’ve thought of it,” she says calmly. “But we landed on one kid. We’re happy with that.”

Jake squeezes her shoulder.

“Really? Huh.” David nods in surprise. “Don’t you want more kids, Jake?”

“It's not my decision to make,” he shrugs, like it was an obvious fact. “I'm just hoping we can get a cat soon.”

 Charlie falls asleep in Amy's arms, staying there even as people begin to drop out and head to bed. She gives him back to Tony when it’s time for a diaper change, closing her eyes and leaning against Jake's chest once her arms are free again.

“You okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she promises. “Just sleepy.”

“You didn't drink anything,” he notes, nodding to her untouched glass.

“Did you try the wine?” He nods. “I hated it. I think Julian has crappy taste in alcohol.”

Jake shrugs. “It tasted fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are being weird.”

“Or I have better taste than you.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Let's go to bed, babe.”

 -

 She’s barely closed her eyes before Leah climbs into their bed, full of energy as she makes space between her parents.

“I wanna go outside and play,” she insists, and when this doesn’t garner enough of a response, she frowns. “It’s morning!”

Amy reluctantly opens her eyes to reach for her phone, reading the time. “Half-past seven.” Weird. They went to bed at one a.m. and Leah’s slept through the night, yet it feels like she was woken up after ten minutes.

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Jake, pulling his daughter close and tickling her neck. “How about we play in here for a while? I have a great idea for something.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, bumblebee, you’re a super brave space pirate. This bed is your spaceship, and mama and I are your innocent, weak humans that you’ve captured.” He yawns. “The rules are that we have to lay still. If we move, we’ll fall out into space and, uh, die.”

“Okay! Dada, still!”

“I love this game,” Amy mumbles, pulling the covers closer around herself.

 The spaceship game lasts a full ten minutes before Leah tires, deciding that her parents are too boring captives for her taste and starting a new game that circles around her trying to jump from the bed onto her mattress in increasingly creative and less-than-safe ways. Jake defuses the situation before she tries to do a backflip, suggesting that they get out of bed and see if any other cousins are up yet, and Amy tries to open her eyes again. It’s painful - her body screams for more sleep, and she channels this into the pleading look she gives Jake.

“Can I get another half hour? I feel like I’m going to collapse if I get up now.”

“Huh.” A line appears between his brows. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” she yawns. “I just need thirty minutes, like I said.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you up when there’s breakfast - Lee, wait!”

He disappears out the door chasing after their daughter, and Amy sighs in relief as she lets her eyes fall closed again.

It still feels like no time has passed before Jake comes to tell her the thirty minutes are up, but she forces herself to get out of bed anyway. They have a long day ahead of them, and Amy’s not risking getting teased by her brothers for wanting to sleep in. Instead, she throws on a hoodie to hide the fact that she’s freezing, and pours herself a big cup of coffee at the breakfast table. She manages four sips before it threatens to come back up again. Luckily, one-year-old Milo chooses that exact moment to almost choke on his piece of toast, and no one except for Jake seems to notice the gagging expression on her face as she tries to swallow everything back down.

 She must be getting the flu, or maybe she’s picked up some other bug from her daughter. She’s cold, a little dizzy, and the stuffy nose refuses to pass even though she keeps away from the dog. They go to play in the woods while the sun is still shining, and Amy’s enjoying herself as she watches Jake run with Leah in his arms towards a tree, touch her feet against the wood and yell Parkour! only to make the girl lose it with laughter every time, but she’s so tired when they get home, she’s barely sat down in an armchair before she’s nodded off again.

 “Hey, Ames.” Jake’s firm hand on her shoulder makes her return to consciousness. His mouth is set in a hard line, and there’s a seriousness to the way he watches her that reminds her of the way he gets whenever she’s really sick, all worried and overly protective like he thinks she’ll instantly drop to the floor if he’s not right there. “Can we talk in private?.”

She nods, following him back to their bedroom where he closes the door. He sits down cross-legged on Leah's mattress, and she takes her chance to lay down on the bed, propping her head up with two pillows. “Okay. What’s up?”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“I mean, I feel a little off, I’m sort of dizzy and my allergies are annoying.” She sniffles. “Probably coming down with some bug. Why?”

“Your immune system is way better than mine, though. I’m always the first one to get sick after Leah and I’m fine. I don’t even think she’s been ill in weeks. Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one feeling sick?”

Amy shrugs. “Exception that proves the rule?”

“Yeah, or you’re not sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ames,” he says in a low voice, his tone slightly hesitant. “You don’t think there’s a chance you might be - I don’t know, pregnant?”

“Come on. How would that have happened?”

“Uh -”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, but I think we established my body didn’t want it to happen for us again.”

“Maybe, but face the facts. You’re exhausted, your taste buds are funny, and you were like, seconds away from throwing up your coffee this morning. You’re cold, you’re dizzy…” He counts on his fingers as he lists the symptoms. “It sounds a lot to me like before we found out you were pregnant with Leah?”

“Or it sounds like it's been a couple of intense months, my body's fighting an infection and I’m getting ill once I'm relaxing.”

“Have you gotten your period this month?”

She glares at him. “Stop.”

“Well, have you?”

She sighs and pulls out her phone from her pocket, opening it to her period tracker. Current Cycle - day 33. “It's a few days late.”

Jake’s eyes go wide.

“No.” She shakes her head before he can say anything. “Nope. That doesn't mean anything. My cycle got screwed up after the treatments and they said it could take months to return to normal.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No. Seriously. We both know I’m not pregnant.”

He squints. “We do?”

“Yes. And I can’t let myself think about it, Jake, because if I do…” She bites her lip at the crystal-clear memories of ovulation strips, shots and negative pregnancy tests, of feeling betrayed by her own body time and time again. “I’ll start to go crazy. I just got away from that obsessive headspace. I can’t go there again, I can’t have another negative staring me in the face, I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, gaze still full of worry as he sits down next to her. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.” His hands rub soft circles on her neck to ease the tension there, his lips brushing against hers for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She sighs. “God, I need another nap.”

“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he says, and she swears she’s never been more in love with him in her entire life.

 -

 Jake doesn’t bring it up again, and Amy’s grateful. It's not that she doesn't wish for his suspicions to be true - her falling pregnant naturally would be a miracle - but she can't let herself think about it, let alone hope. She spent a year hoping and it led nowhere. This isn't the first time she's imagined symptoms that turned out to be nothing. If she lets herself have hope another time, only to be faced by cruel disappointment, she's certain she's going to shatter.

The weather changes from gorgeous sunshine to heavy rainfall, effectively locking every present Santiago family member inside of the cabin and creating yet more chaos. Luis and Christian organize a game night for the kids, first consisting of child-friendly memory-games and puzzles, but as more and more kids go to bed, eventually the adults drag out Monopoly and get drunk. They also get insanely competitive. When Simon starts threatening Tony about having him do another challenge for his YouTube channel, and Tony threatens to wrestle Simon right there on the floor, the game is quickly changed to Cards Against Humanity which soon becomes a dangerous game of Never Have I Ever. Amy opts for alcohol-free wine, and it’s probably lucky, because her brothers are ruthless. Never have I ever had a catastrophic double date - drink. Never have I ever made out with someone at work - drink. Never have I ever accidentally startled a man with a genetic heart condition, resulting in his immediate death - drink, remind Julian he’s an asshole, and come up with a good revenge question. She’s relieved they go to bed before anyone can suggest a game of truth or dare.

 The next day, she's feeling much better, and manages almost half a cup of coffee without nausea. She must've been right about it being some kind of infection, she thinks, pleased that it seems to be passing.

The weather isn't improving, so she teams up with a few of her brothers and their families to go to a nearby, kid-friendly, museum while Jake, Julian, and Simon visit a sneaker outlet. Leah finds an activity station and plays there for nearly fifteen minutes with her cousins before breaking down in tears when someone takes a crayon from her, and after it’s been another ten minutes of crying, Amy eventually chalks the child’s sudden fury down to low blood sugar. She ruffles through her bag for a snack and finds an unopened bag of dried mango, and two slices later, Leah is back to normal. Amy also finds an unopened tampon package, giving her a nudging reminder that her period’s still nowhere to be seen, but she shakes away the thought. Had this been a couple of months ago, she would've been rushing to take a test, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back for acting so calm about it now. She knows this means nothing and she's not stressing out. There’s this tingling, cramping, feeling low in her stomach anyway, aching for a moment before immediately fading. Surely that must mean her period is coming.

 They go to bed early on their last night away, ready for the drive home the next day. Leah wakes up crying about a nightmare, so Amy ends up sleeping next to her in their bed with Leah's little legs curled against Amy's stomach and her hand gripping her wrist. As far as sleeping positions go, she could think of far more comfortable or ergonomic ones, but there's no denying the coziness of it. Leah snuggles her nose into the crook of Amy's neck, and Amy falls asleep just smelling her head, and if she’d ever been asked to describe the word peaceful with one situation, she would have chosen this.

 -

 At first, she thinks she's dreaming about a real past event. She's back in the bedroom of their apartment, with Jake sleeping on her right and Leah asleep in her room, but Amy's awake. She can't tell why, isn't fully aware of the narrative here, but she can tell that dream-Amy has an instinct. Something is causing her to get out of bed, walk towards their bathroom and grab a pregnancy test - one of the cheap paper strip ones - from a visible spot in the bathroom cabinet. Something is making her take it. Dream-Amy watches the test, sitting perched on the toilet and staring intently at the first line, and after what feels like the blink of an eye inside of her dream-reality, a second, faint but clear, line shows up.

Even though it's a dream, the explosive happiness is every bit as real as if she'd been awake. She takes the paper strip, wrapping it in a bit of toilet paper, and is about to go ask dream-Jake if he can see it too when she’s pulled out of the dream and back to reality.

“What the hell,” she mumbles as she opens her eyes. Jake and Leah are still sleeping, and it's every bit as dark outside as when they went to bed, but Amy's wide awake and officially weirded out. She's never been one for dream analysis or seeing them as omens of any kind, but something about the realistic feeling has caught her attention, leaving her confused and wondering if there’s any truth to it. She tries to repeat to herself that there isn’t, she isn’t pregnant and should go back to sleep, but her mind is reeling. She tries to do some breathing exercises to force her mind and body back to a relaxed state, but it’s out of reach. The what if-narrative plays on repeat in her head, and eventually, she accepts that she’s going to need to at least outrule the possibility. She’s pretty sure there’s a spare test left somewhere in her bag.

Carefully, she frees herself from the three-year-old’s grip and climbs over Jake instead. He grunts and opens his eyes for a second, but closes them again in the next.

 Amy uses her phone’s flashlight to dig through the contents of her bag, finding her calendar, pencil case, notebooks, and a crossword magazine. Headphones, painkillers, an extra phone charger. More snack bars and packets of dried fruit. Wet wipes, tissues, hair ties, and some makeup. She moves on to the inner pocket, finding allergy medication, tampons, even an expired condom that seems to have nestled its way into the bottom of the bag and stayed there for years, but no spare pregnancy tests. She almost thinks she’s found one, but a closer look tells her it’s an ovulation indicator, and she groans with disappointment. She could have sworn she left one for emergencies, but suddenly it’s gone, and she could wait until tomorrow and buy one, but she wants - scratch that, she needs - to know now.

 “Ames? Are you looking for something?” Jake’s voice is raspy, a mix of surprise and pure confusion in his tone, and she hums vaguely without looking back at him.

“I thought I had something in here,” she says in a whisper. “But I can’t find it. It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

“What’re you tryna find?”

She sighs. “I had a weird dream, okay? So I want to take a pregnancy test, because I just need to know it wasn't real so I can go to sleep. I thought I had one in here, but I don’t, so…”

He yawns, and then, in a movement far swifter than she would expect from someone barely-awake, he gets out of bed and walks over to the plastic bag he brought home from the sneaker outlet.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your sneakers right now,” she wheezes. He shakes his head and brings out another, smaller CVS plastic bag.

“I know,” he says, “but you might care about this.” He throws her a familiar, pink-and-white carton, and she’s not even caught it before she knows exactly what it is.

“You bought a pregnancy test.”

He nods.

“What - when - why?”

“There was a CVS close to the outlet, I told Julian and Simon I needed to buy some Aspirin, ran in and got this. They didn’t see it,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “I was smooth. And as for why - I know you said you didn’t want to hope, but I thought in case you changed your mind and wanted to know, well... “ He shrugs. “It would suck if you were stuck here with no way of finding out, even if it was just another day. I know how much you hate not knowing.”

She twists the carton in her hands. “I really do hate it.”

“So, are you…”

“I’m going to take it. Now.”

“Now - now?”

“Now.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re silently racing each other out the door.

 Amy’s so used to the steps at this point, she doesn’t even feel the anxiety kick in until she places the test on the sink and nods at Jake to start the timer. There’s barely space for them both to sit on the floor of the tiny bathroom, so they’re squeezed together, him stroking her hair and holding her hand as she focuses on keeping her breathing steady.

It doesn't matter what it shows, she tries to tell herself without success. It’s just to check.

And yet, there's this odd sense of hope in her heart she doesn't recognize from the last months.

 “How did you guess?” She asks Jake, and he wrinkles his forehead, so she clarifies. “You remembered all the symptoms.”

“Oh.” He blushes. “This is going to sound bad, but… do you remember before we found out you were pregnant with Lee? There was like a week before you took a test, where you kept complaining about how it felt like you were getting the flu, or some kind of infection, because you were feeling off.” He draws quotation marks with his fingers. “You kept repeating that. And I was so proud of myself, because I'm always the first one of us two to get sick, but I was feeling fine. I thought I’d finally get to brag, and I was so excited, but then we found out you weren't sick.”

“Just pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Which, of course, was so much better. Except I never got to brag. It's haunted me since then. So this time, when you said you were feeling off and like you were getting sick… I remembered, and I made a guess. Also, I’ve read the list in your binder. But honestly, it was mostly the first thing.”

Amy laughs, genuine and hearty despite her nervosity. “You're ridiculous.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders. “And yet you keep wanting to have kids with me.”

“It’s like I must be in love with you or something.”

Her comment makes him snicker, and she thinks, not for the first time, that there could never be another person she'd want to do this with - no matter the results on that test.

 The timer rings. Jake turns it off.

“Do you want to check, or should I?”

“I don't think I can see another negative test,” she whispers, the fear making her heart beat out of her chest, and he nods and tells her to close her eyes. She hears him fumble for the test, and then he finds it, and there’s a moment’s silence that drives her crazy.

    “Ames?”

    “Yeah?”

    “What’d you say two lines meant, now again?”

    She opens her eyes, immediately snatching the test from his hands. “No way.”

    It’s faint, but there’s an obvious second line.

Amy just stares at it. She's worried it’ll disappear, like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but it stays.

“This is crazy.” Tears of happiness flood her eyes once she speaks. “This is - this is absolutely insane.”

“Told you so,” says Jake in an attempt of sounding smug, but she can tell he’s about to tear up, too.

“This is positive.”

“Sure is.”

“Oh my god.” She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she’s shaking, unable to believe her eyes as she looks from the test to Jake and back at the test. “Oh my god, you’re going to brag about this forever.”

He grins. “Consider the fact that I won’t to be a testament to how much I love you.”

She’s too overwhelmed to know what to say, so she just hugs him, smiling into his chest as he peppers kisses to the top of her head.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

“We’re having another baby.”

She’s spent a year wishing for it, getting used to the thought in her desperation to get there, yet his words are impossible to take in. Another baby.

“Seems that way,” she whispers, and he laughs.

 There’s a second test in the carton, and Amy wants to take it right away, but Jake convinces her to save it for tomorrow so they can go back to bed before anyone notices they’ve been occupying this bathroom for a suspicious amount of time.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, not when a thousand thoughts are running laps in her head and she’s so in shock she thinks she might still be dreaming, but then Jake’s hand sneaks under the hem of her t-shirt and rests low on her stomach to make sure they're warm, he mumbles, and she places her own hand over his and relaxes.

 ~

  november.

Logically, Amy knows she’s pregnant.

All of the tests, a new one every day even though Jake tells her she’s being crazy again, are coming back two dark lines and plus signs and bolded words Pregnant, and the expensive test with the week indicator which shows how long it’s been since ovulation changes from 1-2 to 2-3 and 3+ Weeks. The fertility clinic gives her a blood test, confirms it’s a healthy pregnancy and schedules an early ultrasound two weeks later, which feels like an eternity. Time is moving excruciatingly slow, even slower when the nausea fully kicks in and she wants to spend as much of the day as possible laying down. She’s secretly happy she’s feeling terrible because that means the hormone levels are rising, and Jake insists on high-fiving her after the first time she throws up, but it does make the days feel even longer when all she wants is for them to pass.

Emotionally, the knowledge is much more difficult to wrap her head around. She’s terrified, analyzing every minuscule shift in her body in fear of there being something wrong and checking for blood in her underwear several times a day. She’s short on distractions, because she’s exhausted and moving too much makes her feel sick, so she’s mostly stuck on the couch after work watching movies and cuddling with Leah. They're not telling her yet - they're not telling anyone, except Rosa who figured it out soon as Amy declined a tequila shot - and Amy feels like a shitty parent who doesn't have the energy to run around and properly play with her kid right now, but Leah seems to get that her mom’s not feeling well, because she's more than happy to read books together and watch iPad until Jake comes home and takes her to the park for a bit.

 She wants to be happy, and every time she adds another positive test to the growing collection, she is, but she’s also dreaming nightmares and waking up in cold sweats in fear that this will be taken away from them. It’s too good to be true, the kind of happy ending you read about but never experience, and she can’t for the life of her try to fathom that it’s real. In short, she’s so hormonal she cries at stubbing her toe in the doorway, so nauseous she has to force down the few things she can consider eating, feeling guilty over how little energy she has to give Leah and how much responsibility this puts on Jake, and she can’t even allow herself to trust that they are having another baby.

 “This isn’t forever,” Jake tells her on a particularly exhausting evening after she's cried in his arms and eaten three lemon popsicles because they're the only thing that tastes remotely good. When she's cried a little more, about her fear and bad conscience and the deep shame in not being able to feel happy about something she's dreamt of for a year, he tells her, “just three more days until the scan,” and that does help.

-

 Amy doesn’t want to exaggerate, but she’s pretty sure the hours between six a.m., when Leah wakes up, and nine a.m., when the ultrasound appointment is, are the longest three hours of her life. Mornings are enough of a struggle to get through with a stubborn three-year-old who’ll put up a fight about anything from clothes to breakfast to brushing her teeth if she’s in the wrong mood, and they’re not made any easier when Amy’s feeling like this, but it’s moving particularly slow today when nearly all of her focus is divided between worrying about the scan and trying to keep her breakfast down. In the end, Leah doesn’t brush her teeth this morning and she has a yogurt smoothie in the car, but they manage to drop her off in time and she gives them a long hug each, so Amy considers it a success.

 Unfortunately, it’s a temporary one. She’s so nervous she can’t think straight, can’t focus on the Taylor Swift-tunes playing in the car or reply when Jake asks if she’s excited. Her head is playing possible nightmare scenarios on a loop, of there not being anything there, of them not seeing a heartbeat, or something else that will leave them no choice but to terminate the pregnancy. Taylor Swift sings something about cloaks and daggers and bright mornings, and Amy tries to see if she can memorize the lyrics for a distraction. She doesn’t get far before they get stuck in a traffic jam, though, giving them no option but to drive a few feet at a time, accelerating and braking on repeat.

 She knows that Jake tries to drive as smoothly as possible. He’s a good driver. She doesn’t have a problem with his driving, but the constant starting and stopping, the inevitable jerking movements, is absolute hell for her morning slash all-day sickness and suddenly all her focus has shifted to trying not to throw up in a moving car.

“I’m really sorry, Ames,” says Jake after casting one glance at her pale complexion, and she doesn’t dare to move her head but she mumbles a ‘not your fault’ before she goes back to taking deep breaths.

 She makes it through the congestion, and the nausea’s easing as they drive the last stretch to the clinic, but then there’s a slight bump as they drive into the parking lot and the fight is lost. She stumbles out of the car in search of a trash can, but it’s too far away. Instead, she has to publicly humiliate herself by throwing up right there on the curb just as another couple is walking out of the clinic and giving her what she assumes are grossed-out looks. She feels Jake’s hands on her shoulders as she coughs up the last bit, grimacing at the foul taste.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m hungover,” she mutters as he leads her to a spot further away, urging her to sit down.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what they think about all the women who puke outside of fertility clinics.”

His comment makes her laugh, but the laughter makes her feel sick again, so she stops.

“You okay?” He asks, carefully scratching her neck with one hand as he digs in his messenger bag with the other. “I have water if you want to rinse your mouth, and I’m pretty sure I have gum somewhere.”

“I’ll take water,” she says, accepting the green kid-size bottle that was definitely originally Leah’s and taking a cautious sip. “Sorry about this.”

“You’re sorry?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Damn, queen of unnecessary apologies. It’s okay.”

“I feel like crap,” she groans, ignoring him. “Sorry for whining.” “Okay there, ridiculous. Stop apologizing. It’s not something you can control.”

“But I don’t want to whine about this,” it comes out of her before she can stop it. “I don’t want to be sad, or scared. We fought so damn hard to get here! It fucking sucked! And now - I guess we’re having a baby, but I don’t know how to believe that, and I have to deal with the fact that pregnancy sucks, too!” She shakes her head, instantly regretting the quick movement but continuing to speak anyway. “I just want to be happy, and grateful, and I am. But I’m terrified. I can’t trust that it’s really happening, that it won’t be taken away from us again, and on top of that I feel awful all the time. I just… thought it’d be different.”

 Jake looks a little taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening his mouth before closing it and watching her with that same worried look she’s seen way too much during the last weeks.

“It will be,” he promises once she stops talking. “You’ve done this before. You know it gets better. You get a baby out of it, which - there are worse deals.”

“Yeah. But it feels so far away. It doesn’t feel remotely real. I wanted us to be happy now, to relax and enjoy this, but it feels like everything sucks.”

“Isn’t that just life sometimes, though? It sucks, and then there are awesome parts, and then it sucks again, and then there’s more awesome stuff.” He grimaces, looking down at the curb before meeting her eyes. “I know you feel like crap. I know you’re scared. Honestly, so am I. But we’re about to see our baby for the first time,” he smiles, “and that’s at least one of the crazy awesome parts.”

She nods. “It is.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “I just think that… there’s always going to be shitty things, right? Sure, this year was rough, and I wouldn’t want to do it again, but we also had a million amazing moments with Leah, and together, in-between the bad parts. When this baby comes,” he nods to her still-flat stomach, “we probably won’t be sleeping and everything will be nuts for a while before we figure it out, but we’re going to have two kids and it’s going to be the best.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to tell you something I heard from a very smart person once,” he grins, looking proud of himself. “Life is unpredictable, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything.”

“That person sounds smart. Did they also make a butt joke after that?”

“Sure did. Made me cry, and everything. But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

“You’re forty-two.”

“Exactly. Shh.”

Amy laughs, with tears in her eyes because he’s hitting that perfect spot between wisdom and humor that’s one of the many reasons she loves him so much, and the smile on his lips grows wider once he sees that he’s made her laugh.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know. Love you, too.” She kisses him, and he kisses her back for a second before immediately pulling away and scrunching his nose. “Okay, ew, no. Vomity breath. Gross.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to apologize,” she teases. “But I’ll take that gum too.”

“Let’s just go inside and look at our baby,” he says as he hands her the packet, and she doesn’t protest.

 There are some routine questions and another blood test, and then they’re ushered into the ultrasound room. She’s nearly holding her breath as she lays down, eyes glued to the screen and Jake’s hand squeezing hers so tight she thinks he might stop the blood flow if he squeezed any harder.

At first, she’s scared she was right and there’s nothing in there, because everything is blurry and she’s not sure what’s what, but then it clears slightly and the ultrasound technician points out a white blob the shape of a lima bean, and there are tears of relief running down her cheeks.

 The technician says and here’s the heartbeat, and Amy has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying harder than she already is when a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds through the room in quick little beats.

She could listen to that sound forever.

 They get printed sonogram pictures of their fetus, which is slightly over an inch and just looks like a white blob but is well and truly perfect according to their doctor, and then they’re advised to go home and celebrate. They both have to stop crying first, though, so they stand outside the clinic for another while, just hugging without needing to say anything else.

 “So,” Jake says when Amy’s finally found space to breathe again. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to go to Target and look for another shirt that says Big Sister and some stupid cute tiny clothes?”

“Oh, you know I do.”

 They get a long-sleeved pink shirt for Leah, six pairs of baby socks with animals on them and tiny pajamas with rainbow stripes, and then they buy alcohol-free champagne.

 ~

[jandjsalmon]

lurker-no-more

replied to your post

“We seriously have to all stop following each other.  It’s like an...”

So this is something I think about (and one reason I try to mix in a decent amount of content related to my other interests) ... but I’m curious how you see it in the context of fan-made content. All the fic, fan art, edits, gif sets, etc. I’m guessing you are more exhausted by seeing the faves’ social posts or movie promo vs fan-made content, but I don’t want to make ASSumptions on your thoughts and feelings, hahaha.

Actually - it’s interesting because the thing that triggered me today was definitely fan-made content- which is something I LOVE and support. Promotion for a fic or a moodboard is really great - I support authors and graphic makers and I love our fandom - but seeing it (no lie) 18 times on my first swipe of my dashboard this morning made my head explode. Probably adding to the fact is that it’s a fic I don’t care for - and it felt like every single person was reblogging it today. That was why I was frustrated this morning - apparently, according to my most recent Grayface, I should just follow smaller blogs instead of all the big popular ones I must follow... (I don’t follow the big blogs. Wait - WHO are the big blogs? Why are they bigger and more important than the other blogs? Have I missed something? Remind me to tell y’all about how I feel about pedestal culture and what I’ve learned in this fandom for the last three years on another day, okay? ANYWAY - I actually follow people who have become my FRIENDS... so that was lovely advice but not really applicable but whatevs).

As far as the faves and their social media and promotional stuff - I’ve been really good with curating and filtering - so I rarely see things regarding the faves that I don’t want to see - with the exception of one or two people who are freaking masters at tagging and slip by my curation because I’ve tracked the tags they use and haven’t effectively filtered the other tags on their posts. I’ve had to untrack tags here on tumblr because of a couple of those tag masters.

But like, promotion for Lili’s movie? Excitement over Cole’s photography? I’m super pumped to see those things. I don’t mind seeing them over and over again on my dash. It gets a bit different when it’s panic over who hasn’t liked what/when and yes, it does get tiring to see the same promo video over and over and over again. It definitely means I ‘reblog’ less and just ‘red heart’ more - so I don’t flood my own followers with more of the same. Of course - if we’re in the middle of a fandom explosion - like the Met Gala - and I DO reblog something that everyone else is reblogging, usually that means that I REALLY REALLY love the thing being reblogged. (Like Lili with her tongue out and Cole with his silly matador hairstyle. I LOVE that picture and will reblog it every time I see it.) 

Honestly - things like trolly asks being answered or panic (whether it’s fictional based or reality based) just gets blogs unfollowed by me. I’m not bothered anymore about unfollowing because I need this place to be an enjoyable space for me. I rarely block fandom blogs (because if I’m understanding correctly, it would mean that they couldn’t participate in the @blueandgoldoffice - and I wouldn’t want to be THAT jerk who says “your unfounded panic about the love life of two people you don’t know personally means you can’t like lost bughead stories”) - but I’ve been close a couple times when the people in question were massive tag masters and were inciting more and more absolutely ridiculous panic with their answers....

But yeah. You probably didn’t want an essay in reply. Sorry, @lurker-no-more. lol. Your question was - how do I see the repetitive nature of our collective fandom dashboards when it comes to fan-made content? I know for myself - if I see a gif set I really love that fifteen people on my dash have shared in the last hour, I will often save it to drafts and share it in a day or two or a week or whatever so that it doesn’t over flood everyone. I’ll do that for fics and moodboards as well. But other times - I just heart something rather than reblog it (which I know is the bane of a content creator’s existence) - but there we are.

And honestly - I was just being churlish this morning because there were a million posts promoting a fic I don’t like and I spoke out of turn. I should have held my frustration in and just turned off tumblr until something new caught everyone’s attention. So I apologize to everyone. I’d delete the posts - but then the interesting comments would be gone. And I don’t want to give that quasi trolly Grayface the satisfaction. There - now I’m just being petty. lol. 🤷

[esteemedbastard]

His dear child was sleeping in a hospital bed with an oxygen mask over his face along with an IV attached to his arm. Quickly he rushed to his side and gently held the pro’s hand in his own while running his fingers through his silver hair. Gently Janes leaned over and pressed his lips to Aster’s forehead. “Daddy’s here Aster. And I’m not gonna leave you anytime soon.” He whispered as he let his tears roll down his cheeks. (James is Aster's Dad)

Aster doesn’t remember anything about the fire, and perhaps for the better.

A burglar broke into their apartment with the intent to steal James’s artwork. James confronted him, and in the struggle the thief’s gun went off, striking a ceiling light and setting off an electrical fire.

The fire spread to Aster’s room, where he slept soundly. James couldn’t get to his son in time to bring him to safety. 

He’s badly burned from the bottom of his left eye to his chin, and the right side of his head is scorched. They had to cut off all his hair before surgery. Burns scale up his legs and arms, and there’s a splotch directly in the center of his chest.

He’ll live, but Aster will need to see a plastic surgeon for years for additional surgical procedures as he grows. 

Aster is only ten years old.

They move into a house in the suburbs and get a high tech security system. Aster goes back to school, walking into the class to the gasps and shrieks of his classmates. He grows his hair and wears hoodies to hide his face. When the bullies make biting remarks, Aster responds with sharp retorts. 

He signs up for karate when their insults shift from verbal to physical.

As Aster grows up and the surgeries make his scars more manageable, he stops hiding behind his hair and hoodies and uses makeup and concealer. From karate he branches out to volleyball and lacrosse, trying to compensate for his face by training his body.

He trains his mind, too. Aster plays Duel Monsters online after his homework is done. Over the computer, no one can see his face. The people on the DM servers become his friends, talking to him in the chats. One of them suggests Aster start going to tournaments.

He does. And he wins.

(He wins a lot.)

There are bullies at the tournaments, too. Aster doesn’t need words or fists to put them down; for the first time, he uses his cards to shut them up. 

By the time he’s fifteen, he’s already gone pro. 

At seventeen, Jaden Yuki has a crush on Aster Phoenix. He’s so confident in the way he handles his cards and he’s merciless with opponents who don’t take him seriously. He’s only two years older than Jaden and yet he’s taking the pro world by storm.

He’s stunning, too. Steely blue eyes and silver hair, tailored suits to show off his gorgeous body, and a tenor voice to make Jaden shake in his shoes.

Aster’s P.O. box is posted up on a fansite, and Jaden starts sending him letters. He remarks on Aster’s previous duels and makes his own interjections about what he’d do in Aster’s place. He asks Aster how he likes Dubai, Paris, Moscow, and Hong Kong. Jaden’s never been out of the country before and Aster doesn’t reliably update his social media about what he’s doing on his travels.

Jaden follows Aster on social media, of course. There aren’t a lot of candid photos of Aster: no gym selfies, no “I woke up like this,” no pictures on the plane; nothing. All of his pictures are promotional shots, pictures taken during a duel, and media pictures. The fansites vent their frustrations but Jaden doesn’t mind. Aster has cameras in his face all the time. If he wants to keep some things private, then that’s his business. Jaden keep his letters bland and impersonal, only talking about Aster’s duels and his traveling.

A couple of days after Jaden moves into his college dorm, Aster’s world falls apart.

After his morning run, Jaden opens up his phone to see Aster’s pictures posted all over the fansites. That’s nothing new, but these aren’t professional shots; these are photos someone took with their phone. 

Aster is getting out of the hotel pool after a long nighttime swim. Jaden swallows audibly at the sight of Aster’s partially clothed body. His toned arms and taught chest make Jaden feel funny in his stomach. 

But the scars on those arms and chest that causes Jaden’s stomach to flip-flop. Scrolling down, there’s a photo where Aster lifts his head to reveal a long scar on the left side of his face. 

In the comments, a fan publishes a link about an attempted burglary nearly ten years ago that led to a fire in the apartment where Aster lived as a child. Another fan gleefully counts Aster’s scars and guesses how many surgeries Aster has had to reconstruct his body.

Anger boils in Jaden’s gut. These people dug up Aster’s pain and splashed it all over the internet. He unfollows the fansite and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Back at his dorm, he sits down at his desk and pulls out some paper and a pen. 

“Dear Aster,

I saw the pictures on the fansites. It pissed me off to see people breaking your privacy like that. What happened to you is a tragedy. 

But I’m sure you hear that a lot from people. You’re probably tired of it. So I’m gonna say something different:

You’re beautiful.”

Jaden’s not sure what he wrote after that. He rambled on for at least half a page about how beautiful Aster is. Hell, Jaden realized he’s gay when he watched of Aster’s duel in the Euro Cup a year ago! Aster’s eyes shone so brightly when he drew Destiny Hero Diamond Dude, and Jaden melted into a Jaden-shaped puddle.

He sends out the letter with shaking hands and tries not to think about it. Aster gets so many letters there’s no way he reads them all, especially after this. 

Still, Jaden checks his mailbox every day in the hopes that he’ll get something, anything, from Aster. 

And then–

The flowers arrive. 

It’s a big bouquet of two dozen red roses, placed in a clear glass vase with a white ribbon tied around the neck of the vase. The ribbon holds a red envelope in place. 

In case Jaden had any doubts about who sent the flowers, there’s a makeup-less picture of Aster inside the envelope along with a letter with intimate details about Jaden’s letter. 

“Thank you Jaden, for making me feel beautiful for the first time in ten years.”

(And then, if Jaden’s heart couldn’t explode enough, the letter closes with an invite to duel online and Aster’s dueling code.)

[gatheringbones]

hey c’mere

little tip from me to you.

you know those people on your dash who keep you abreast of the Drama.

like, they’ve always got fifteen reblogs of fifteen different fights in fifteen different fandoms about which creator fucked up where and which set of fans is the most toxic and which character is the most ignored or underutilized and which axis of oppression is being the most virulently highlighted this week.

and you know how everything they’re saying is valid and important and not wrong and it makes you more cognizant and informed as both a fan and a creator and yeah it’s better to know these things than not know them and Become Part Of The Problem, yknow???? which is why you have to keep reading and have to keep following and signal boosting the most important posts so that everyone else can be on the side of Good and not woefully misinformed?

it’s over.

you’re free now.

it’s okay. you did your best.

click unfollow on that person who’s occasionally funny and occasionally writes good content but is Always Yelling About Something.

you know exactly who i’m talking about.

be free.

[taonsil]

mmm I locked my twt last night to say most of this but I feel better about saying it here now, though it’s prob still a bit disorganised OTL

you probably wouldn’t anyway but please don t rb~ and ok this is literally a novel so you could prob see it that the twt version was..a draft lmao 

sometimes I really hate not having a more personal space to unload for fear of being called out (which I couldn’t deal with) and/or being misunderstood. or just the basic fear that people who once thought I was nice would turn on me, if I vented for one reason and it looked like another. since I lost a lot of confidence in myself I take it harder than I should if people unfollow after I’ve said something. fandom really really matters to me, it’s basically why I’m still around and the only Thing I really have. the environment has changed to be so unforgiving, quick to judge and morally absolute, it’s so overwhelming and scary at times to go against a polarised view. I can’t just tag Everything with ‘I’m mentally ill and probably not upset about what you think’, and I don’t like worrying about if I need to add some disclaimer or will need to list my whole history of nd issues and trauma every time I just wanna complain about something from a perspective different to the one currently in favour half the reason I got so exhausted over the past few days was just from constantly unpacking and dealing with my own feelings every time the issue came up, to the point that it didn’t even matter what was being said, just the subject started me off again. which of course isn’t rational behaviour, but, that’s what happens on garbage brain days. what started as two small issues I was frustrated about flared up into me eventually making myself sick obsessing over everything. I wanted to vent my own feelings on it, and I wanted to say something for all my quiet buddies out there who may feel the same and weren’t seeing anything reassuring, but instead I just got more and more worked up about it

(I’m saying this in general, not about any specific issue) I know so many nd people who are so great, but they silence themselves out of fear of how they’ll be perceived. it sucks but I do it too. it sucks that it’s hard to even be reassuring to each other out of fear of having to try and justify why you feel the illogical thing and why you’re offering comfort instead of reform. (and then it’s silly, because we’re all out here thinking we’re the only ones orz). it’s why ‘any nice/good person has this opinion’ movements generally stress me out. some are obviously unarguable true, yes. but sometimes people have complicated reasons, and they’re usually people who are already isolated and quiet/scared/guilty, just dealing with their own feelings or finding comfort in things. but because we’re predominantly an anxious, quiet bunch it’s never really allowed for or discussed fandom environment has changed, but back when it was more closed off it was full of people with issues and trauma and garbage brains who were seeking out some comfort. it still is, but in all of the easy access and the aggression and fighting, whatever the subject, no one ever thinks about that. people seem to assume everyone is just a gross bad person. people have issues that they don’t want to deal with or unpack publicly and fear makes them hide away and doubt their comforts. (this is a smaller example, but it surprised me how many people asked why I have issues with alcohol. I feel like there’s some pretty obvious reasons you could take a guess at? if you can’t even take a good guess at why someone may have an issue, that’s..kind of how we’ve ended up with such an extreme call out culture and so many people having to use their personal trauma to defend themselves). 

I’ve been in fandoms similar to this one for fifteen years. I’ve gone from being the confused anxious guilty teenager to finally finding words and explanations for the things I felt, and becoming someone who can help other people lost and trying to figure this stuff out. in the years I’ve had this account, that’s ended up being what I’ve /wanted/ to do. as well as enjoying the boys and the content itself, I’ve always been in fandoms for comfort and for a safe, happy space. I know from personal experience, friends, and all of the amazing people I’ve spoken to on here over years, that there are so many people out there who are constantly feeling like the only person who feels the way they do, or are worried they’re doing something wrong, or feel guilty/upset/worried about something they find comfort in. so many of you have reached out to me when I’ve felt brave enough to talk about things, letting me know you feel similarly even on issues I thought were probably only my own. due to limitations I have bc of my mental health I’m never going to be able to be active in my own local communities, so if the only way I can reach out to and help queer and nd kids is through fic and soft meta and trying to keep a quiet little safe spot then it matters so much to me. there are so many of you who’ve been too afraid to talk, or even have anons published, or really break my heart by having to /ask/ me if it’s alright for you to feel a certain way or find comfort in certain thing. I’m old and crusty and have enough time and knowledge to want to be able to help with these things and I wish I was braver, and that I could be more outspoken about things or let people know that they’re not being fair, or just feel comfortable talking in hope of someone who needs to see it seeing it. idk where I’m going with this now;; I just, really enjoy meeting new people and making friends through fandom, but in the end fandom has changed and it’s changed why I’m here. it just used to be purely for fun and creating content, but in the end I’m here to hype taozi and try to make people like me who may have found me feel a lil better about things, and I just hate that despite having words and little communities for things now it’s still rough and hard to deal with for a lot of us, and that despite so much love and support I still struggle a lot with thinking sharing things is helpful rather than annoying and feeling worthy of trying to do anything;;

[beauticate]

Elyse Taylor On How To Be Happy

Elyse Taylor was discovered at 18 and launched into the stratosphere, walking for brands like Dolce & Gabbana and being chosen as a face of Estée Lauder. Now based in NYC full time, where she balances the chaotic scheduling demands placed on a working model with being a single mum to five-year-old Lila, she made a quick trip to Sydney in her role as brand ambassador for Nude by Nature. She sat down with us to chat about what she knows now, and after fifteen years in the industry, this older and wiser Elyse is more beautiful than ever, radiating a quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly who she is.

“UNDERSTAND THE INS AND OUTS OF YOUR CAREER

Modelling has changed so much now. We didn’t used have a voice, but now thanks to social media everyone has become three dimensional. The downside of showing every facet of your life is that if you make one wrong move, everything can end in five minutes.  Even when you’re a professional and on top of your game, even when you’re hungry and determined and work towards your goals for years, it can still all just go away. 

When I started modelling, trends were so different – everyone was super skinny and a lot of people had eating disorders. Now there’s a push for diversity in every sense, both with plus size girls and in terms of ethnicity. Twelve years ago, being blonde and blue eyed, I was getting the most work. Now, it’s refreshing to be on a shoot and see I am the one working the least. It’s such a healthy change for the industry. Everyone wants to see themselves reflected back at them and now they’re starting to.

MAKE DECISIONS THAT ARE TRUE TO YOUR PRINCIPLES

I’ve worked with Nude by Nature for three and a half years, and I am so in sync with what they represent. A lot of women nowadays are trying to educate themselves about ingredients which go in and on their body, and I love that Nude by Nature has been cruelty free since day one, and doesn’t use any synthetics, so that what you put on your face becomes one less thing to worry about. We are very educated consumers who worry about ethics and bettering ourselves. We think ‘what’s my footprint?’ and ‘what can I do better?’ - I don’t see this being a trend, but the way things will continue to go forward, and Nude by Nature fits with this ethos so well. It really is makeup that’s good for you, which is so rare.

WORK OUT WHAT WORKS FOR YOU

For me, how I eat and exercise is based on feeling comfortable at work in lingerie and swimsuits, (and being able to keep up with my kid)! Modelling is more competitive than ever. I’m constantly on set with 18 year-olds, and I need clients to see us side by side and not think twice about my age. To make sure of this, I follow an eating style that works for me – the blood type diet – unless I’m on vacation or date night. 

I work out every single day unless I’m spending the day with my daughter. I do genuinely enjoy exercising, and find it really clears my mind and definitely helps get my body moving when I travel so much. I used to work with a trainer, but now I like to do my own thing, including skiing, climbing, swimming… really whatever works with my schedule. I’m pretty active and so is Lila, and I want to encourage that for her.

TRUST THE EXPERTS AND KEEP IT SIMPLE

When it comes to my skin, I like to keep it as clean and clear as possible, and I’m all about de-puffing. I’m obsessed with Cosmedix products. Melanie Grant got me onto them, and I would follow her to the ends of the earth. I also like Dr Barbara Sturm’s Glow Drops, serums and acid, and the 111 Rose Gold Masks, which I keep in the fridge and put on the morning. I am always trying to aim for maximum hydration.

I keep my makeup as minimal as possible, and rely on key products in what I like to call my fifty shades of brown. I start with Nude by Nature’s Flawless Concealer, which is perfect for running around during the day or for special events. It’s thicker than average so it really stays on, and it gives me good coverage over blemishes and redness. I then go for a chocolate eye, bronzer, some shimmer, and maybe a red lip if the event is black tie. Basically, I tend to go for something classic and don’t really change it up too much.

Any blonde needs to use Olaplex. Don’t overdo it, but I like to use it once every two weeks and then use a hydrating mask every week. I find my hair likes chemicals, and the good old Garnier shampoo in the lime green bottle is great. I’ve been using it since I was 14! My hair gets so tortured for work with hair dryers and hot tongs that in my personal life I am very much about the wash and go look. My good girlfriend Jenna Perry does my hair and we’ve become like sisters over the years.

DON’T COMPARE YOURSELF TO UNREALISTIC STANDARDS

Remember that it is my job as a model to be taking care of how I look all the time. An average woman doesn’t have the time, the energy or the finances to do that. Even the Victoria’s Secret girls don’t always look how they look in those shows – they prepare full time for months to look like that for one night. You need to focus on yourself and do what makes you feel good. Instagram really can be the worst. My best advice (and something I definitely do myself) is to unfollow anyone that makes you feel awful. Models or not, we are all women. We all carry our own baggage even when we try to put our head down and stay in our own lanes. So don’t make it harder for yourself than it already is.

PUT OUT INTO THE WORLD WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE

Lila is still not that interested in makeup or in what I do. Sometimes she will see me on billboards or on TV and recognise me, but she just views it as ‘Mum went to work and then she came back’. As she gets older my message for her will be about enhancing her natural beauty. Don’t hide who you are or be ashamed of your face. I see young girls all the time done up in a certain way and yes, they look beautiful, but you can see they’re just trying to be clones of someone else. I’d like to push my daughter in a healthier direction. It also really concerns me to see young people morphing their bodies, especially in fairly permanent ways. I want to tell them ‘just be your age and enjoy it’.

The reality is that getting older is inevitable, and there’s nothing for it but to accept that it’s a natural progression and embrace your age and who you are. I do take good care of myself, and one of the reasons why is that I want more kids and want to be around for them as long as I can be. (And a nice bonus is that because I put thought and effort into it now, I think I look better than I did in my teens and twenties)! I’m at a different place now in my thirties and happier than I have ever been. I think happiness really does comes from not worrying too much about what’s going on around you or what other people think, and learning to find it inside yourself.”

Story by Zoe Briggs. Photography by Michael Naumoff and select images from Elyse Taylor’s Instagram account.

[ahwhite2208-blog]

A Thousand Days In Hell

Non-league football is a peculiar entity. For half of the teams in the National League, and certainly the rest in the steps below, it is a wonderful opportunity to do the unthinkable and gain entry to the world of full time football, a dream that so many children have and yet so few manage to live. The players are part time brickies, postmen, regional bank clerks – you know, the type of clubs and players that the BBC cameras fawn over in the FA Cup first round. In principle, it’s great. If I was a Gateshead or a Solihull fan, I might even enjoy it. But when a club the size of Tranmere Rovers fell out of the Football League trapdoor, the typical non-league experience is turned on its head.

The day before I moved to university, I stood on the terraces at Southport and watched us go 2-0 down within 20 minutes. It still hadn’t registered to me that this was actually happening, a feeling of bemusement that I’m sure most of us shared. It was meant to be a whistlestop tour of shit grounds and shit teams that we’d only ever seen in pre-season friendlies. As it turned out, we were destined to spend 1,115 days with this feeling. Denial, sadness, anger, guilt and frustration all came and went, depending on the level of opposition and how quickly we managed to concede. A wounded animal, confused and in pain, Tranmere Rovers as a collective entity was in unfamiliar surroundings. What were we meant to do? It felt like a fever dream. The hideous turquoise tracksuits, the god awful Vanarama branding, even the footballs themselves looked tacky and amateurish. Granted, we hadn’t exactly covered ourselves in glory for about fifteen years but what did we do to deserve this? Most of the players, on our side and theirs, looked like they had won a competition to play at being a footballer for the day. It was a continuation of the previous season’s atrocities, but at a level of football that was truly embarrassing to watch. We didn’t even make the playoffs in that first year, thanks to a team from Essex with about three pound fifty to their name and two P.E teachers in charge. Two ends of the spectrum and all that.

If I’m being honest, I remember next to nothing about the 16 months that Gary Brabin was in charge. I barely went to the games after September, I didn’t know who half of our players were, and I stopped caring. When you spend your 18thbirthday watching Boreham Wood beat you 2-0, something inside of you just dies. I didn’t even bother going to Wrexham. I binned off browsing the Cowsheds – probably a wise decision for anyone wanting to keep their sanity – so FlashScore and the occasional Twitter update was about as much as I could be arsed. I was used to my Kopite and Bluenose mates taking the piss out of us, but I draw the line at Sebastian from Surrey braying in the Mission smoking area about how he could never watch non-league football because his daddy gets executive seats at Chelsea. To be honest, I kept a good crowd at uni. Most of my teammates supported Championship teams like Ipswich or Preston, but even their sympathetic nods and “you’re too big to be down there, remember when you were playing us in League One?” became depressing.

On my occasional visits home in second year, things seemed to be picking up pace. The glamping tent was established (two Gamma Rays and a Sheppy’s please Mark) and we had an alright team. Nors and Harris were becoming cult heroes, we signed Steeeeve and looked like we could actually win the league. Still had to put up with the refereeing, the 12 North Ferriby fans and the voice in the back of your head that says you’re going to be here forever, but at least things were looking up. Remember though, this is Tranmere, and the good was inevitably followed by the bad. Lincoln away was possibly the worst place I’ve ever been for several reasons, the main one being that it looks like post-apocalypse Brexit Britain and the locals are the strangest mutants you can imagine. Whoever’s van I keyed: you deserved it for a) beating us, b) living in Lincoln and c) having a copy of the S*n on your dashboard. Imagine giving somewhere as desolate as Lincoln city status. Anyway, they had the last laugh because they won the league by four points and we got beat at Wembley by a team whose owner wanted to spend millions of actual Great British Pounds on a football ground made out of matchsticks.

Having a life outside of Tranmere proved to be surprisingly easy when we were dwelling in the depths of non-league. I still spent my Saturdays on the couch with an illegal stream of Phil Thompson’s nose and no money in my Betfair account, but it was a somewhat refreshing change to not be planning your life around Rotherham away on a Tuesday night. There wasn’t a chance that I was spending my free government money going to Dover or Torquay when I could spend it on weed and takeaways instead. The few aways that I did manage (hello, 20 minute train journeys to Guiseley and Halifax) were just soul crushing. The council pitch that Guiseley play on had a building site behind it, and absolutely zero incline on the terrace, which is a problem for a short arse like me. I went three times in three years and managed to see a grand total of about 40 minutes. Still worth it for the time I got sick of a 15 year old singing ‘sign on’ and told him in no uncertain terms that Sutcliffe killed his nan. There’s a couple of layers in that one.

As usual, the footballing gods conspired against us last year and we managed to get ¾ of our midfield injured before the play off final. I think we were one injury away from having a centre midfield partnership of Purple Aki and Pete Price, although on reflection the lizard would have had a better game than Lois Maynard. If he was under 6 foot, he’d still be knocking about playing for Manchester Met or wherever we signed him from, the absolute fucking fraud. I’m sure Aki would have put the fear of God into Forest Green as well. Imagine marking him from a corner, he’d have a field day squeezing muscles. In all honesty, we deserved another year in hell for that performance. I’d like to make an official apology for getting escorted off the premises for what can only be described as monumentally dickish behaviour after a long day in the sun.

Now that we’ve won there, I can finally say that Wembley is a corporate shithole without it sounding like sour grapes. Mr. Palios, tear down that arch! Christ alive, what an awful place it is to watch football. Notwithstanding the fact that it’s only ever 20% full for the National League, everything about it just drains you as a fan. It’s more like an airport hangar than an actual ground. I hear Tottenham are putting shops in their new gaff, something the Jaguars owner will almost definitely copy when he buys the place. I’m not a fan of London in general, but Wembley just takes the piss. If I can make it through the next 60 odd years of my life without ever going back, I’ll be happy.

The fact that I’ve got this far in without mentioning the referees is testament to how long the list of complaints about the National League is. Incompetent would be putting it kindly, because every single one of these clowns got their qualifications from the back of a Cornflakes packet. I’m well into my conspiracy theories, and the one about BT and Vanarama deliberately keeping us down in order to boost viewing figures sounds plausible enough, but that would require several doses of the dark arts that these morons don’t have the brain capacity for. It’s a hard job to referee a football match, made even harder if you have absolutely no common sense. The timewasting in that league is enough to test the patience of a saint. All the VAR nonsense at the World Cup is proof that the governing institutions have gone mental. You’d never finish a game in the National League if the refs had VAR. The first half against Ebbsfleet would still be going on. I could list hundreds of terrible decisions both for and against us and it still wouldn’t scratch the surface, but Ritchie Sutton getting sent off at Welling, Scott Davies being assaulted into the net at Barrow and Chester getting a penalty that was about three yards outside the box all stick out.

The last thing I fancy a rant about is the almost comedic lack of professionalism surrounding the entire setup. They absolutely ham it up to the BT cameras like the entire world has woken up at 12.30 to watch Woking v Eastleigh on a Saturday morning. Literally every tweet the official account has ever posted makes me cringe, the pundits are so painfully beige that they make Steve Claridge and his receding hairline look like Little Richard in comparison and Boreham Wood somehow managed to get away with charging to watch their highlights. The fucking cheek of it! It was a stress relief to unfollow them all, clicking each button and feeling part of my soul flowing back into me. At one point, we had no idea whether we were playing on Saturday or not, because the FA Trophy replay took priority over the league. Usually this is all sorted out as soon as possible, but because the NL fixtures are done by some fella writing them down in his ma’s kitchen, they’d got confused. They eventually told us on Friday afternoon that yes, your league game is on. I despair. Even the whole Solihull floodlights debacle got sorted quicker. Juventus’ match-fixing scandal had nothing on that, by the way. The 200 odd people who watched that replay were witness to us throwing that game. I don’t think I saw anyone in a white shirt break out of a jog, and I was all for it. I got to spend a lovely weekend in Solihull (not a patch on Birkenhead) and watch a game of football played in front of a crowd smaller than the Beechwood-Upton derby, with a fraction of the intensity. The perfect non-league experience.

I’ll finish this off by saying thank you to Mark and Nicola Palios, to everyone at the Trust and the TROSC, the Wirral Radio team, and every single season ticket holder. Without you, the club wouldn’t have climbed out of the pit. In fact, I think we’d have developed Stockholm Syndrome within the next few seasons and become like our Welsh friends. The turnaround and revitalisation of the entire structure of this football club gives us hope for the future. Not just blind hope, but optimism as well. When we were losing to Altrincham, I didn’t think that the suites would be pulling in money, or we’d have an academy setup in China. When Welling were putting us to the sword, I didn’t think we’d ever see a club that the fans are so fiercely proud of again. Thank you for not losing interest when I did. That day at Wembley has already been written about. Let us not emerge from non-league abyss blinking at the sunlight, desperate for comfort. Let us instead kick the door of League Two down, wielding dual scythes and behead Stevenage like an invading Dothraki horde.

Figuratively, obviously.

[yourgirlranxo]

Rant: Kim Kardashian Can #SuckIt

I have never publicly acknowledged that I follow the Kardashian-Jenner family, nor have I felt the need to acknowledge my discreet act of following them on any social media network. However, I do feel as though I have to apologise for acting in a hypocritical manner when I say that I do not follow the Kardashian-Jenner family when I do in some aspects.

I don’t watch them on E! Entertainment, nor do I follow them on any social media platform but I do read stories about them, occasionally like their photos on Instagram and admit to liking some their fashion sense (only Kourtney Kardashian’s). I do admit to saying that I fell in love with the Range Rover model from watching a ‘Keeping Up With A Kardashian’ episode back when I was eleven years old, and I do admit to succumbing to my insecurities and having the desire to have a similar body shape to Khloe Kardashian’s figure when I was thirteen years old.

At that same age of thirteen years, I was just falling into my bout of depression, while also dealing with my experiences of bullying and other family issues, so I turned to the glitzy world of celebrities to distract me. Sure, I stopped religiously watching the Kardashians when I was thirteen, but I would sneak in an episode or two because I wanted to know how they achieved the bodies that they flaunted. I wanted to know how Khloe was so confident knowing that she had a plus size figure. It was only my mistake to learn that she hated that figure and decided to go slimmer in the future - but I’m distracting myself now.

The habit the Kardashian-Jenner family have of promoting fitness and health products that help to slim bodies (which a lot of Instagram influencers do as well) is so self-harming that it hurts me to my core. If there is one thing that I have become passionate about is becoming body positive and learning to use my bullying and depression experiences to help myself and others to love their bodies regardless of what people think of them. It’s not the easiest task in the world, but it is a nice journey to go on, especially when one doesn’t need to follow a Kardashian or a Jenner to use their body as inspiration. So, in continuing with my journey, I would like to apologise for what I am about to say, but need to say because it is bubbling up into anger in my head.

The Kardashian-Jenner family are a bunch of selfish harlots who only care about their bodies and making money, which is great for them because it's working out so well, but its harmful to the other people who follow them to the point of worshipping them religiously. It is so sad to watch people aspire to be any member of this sometimes barbaric family who could give two shits if one of their followers starts to suffer from a mental or body disorder because they religiously bought the so-called slimming teas that Khloe, Kourtney, Kim and Kylie have a habit of promoting.

It is so sad to see that through the applications like Instagram that people are so blind to this idea, and that a lot of their followers haven’t unfollowed/boycotted them as yet, because honestly, that’s what this family deserves. Real talk - These sisters will still manage to go to sleep at night and wake up refreshed in the morning even after a person’s name starts trending on Twitter or Instagram because they had died from their eating/mental disorder after failing to achieve their goal or looking like Kim or Khloe or Kylie because they have no money for plastic surgery but they had money to buy plenty of appetite suppressant products, and that angers me. I have a feeling that this family won’t care that social media followers under the age of fifteen will start feeling so conscious about their body because of how Kylie or Kendall Jenner look, or how Kylie uses a slimming tea and has already slimmed back to her original body after giving birth, but a fifteen-year-old girl or boy can’t lose their baby fat no matter what they try to lose weight. That hurts me. That angers me.

That is makes me want to punch a wall until my knuckles bleed because of the thousands of influenced teenagers and adults who will blindly listen to Kim’s advert about a damn lollipop that will f***ing “supposedly suppress appetite” while not mentioning any of the side effects because it will be so f***ing sad if Kim were to lose money because of the health side effects of a bloody damn red lollipop.

I am shaking with anger and sadness that this note I am writing will probably be ignored or not read at all, or that I’ll be insulted for my views because I am just a 22-year old girl with her own body issues who has dealt with these issues since the day my boobs started to grow. I just wish people would take the dangers of these adverts seriously and boycott the Kardashian-Jenner family as seriously as we take the issues of Zara and H&M, and how we easily boycott (or trash) these brands for their horrid advertisements.

If we began to boycott the Kardashian-Jenner family products including makeup and clothing on a global scale, it would cause a massive wake up to the family to make them realise that their voice matters in more ways than one, and perhaps they should probably listen to some of the comments made on their social media posts about how sad their posts are when they promote these products.

Again, I do apologise if there are followers out there who follow a religious workout & diet regime - this letter won’t necessarily concern you -  but for people like me who still have major anxiety attacks when entering the gym and have tried so many diets, my impressionable mind will think that this lollipop will help and when it doesn’t yield the results that I or anyone else may want, I’ll end up slipping further into my insecurities.

So I ask you, no, beg you to please show this family that their voice matters, that their posts matter but boycotting them. If health specialists can tell us that these products are bogus or unhealthy then why can’t we tell this family that? Why can’t we get Kim to delete her post on that stupid red lollipop and genuinely apologise for lying about using a product to lose weight when she has the privilege of hiring a personal trainer?

Why do we have to be zombies and follow every bloody trend of the Kardashian-Jenner family? Why can’t we use our voices on the digital platform for something good, than to just call these reality stars out for lying to their followers?

What’s stopping us?

- Mpho Rantao

[Photo credit to Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/kimkardashianwest]