#recently my mutuals were back on the topic and that friend wanted to insert his word! interesting version!

[katyspersonal]

Also I brought Doll appearance disco horse to a friend that refuses to get a social media account (a wise choice)! His theory is that perhaps Doll was deliberately created TO be in the Hunter's Dream, with purpose of being turned alive helping Hunters already in mind. And?

She was given very warm, inviting appearance purposefully. All these hunters (majority are easily simple hetero dudes) would, in fact, return from all this blood and beasts and hostility to the most soothing solace there is - a pretty woman that speaks calmly with them. Dream should feel like a home for the most basic of bitches you know. And perhaps, intimidating appearance of hunter Maria would be a little counter-productive! After all Doll serves the HUNTERS, not Gehrman alone.

And to top that, he pointed out that 99.99% Maria herself approved or would have approved of being of such help even after her death (should it happen... It did oh well) as someone who cared for the patients (so had fair streak of altruism and caring in her). Because... there are more pressing and important things than "respecting masculine presentation" in a Victorian era or something.

And that's what he said! Quoting almost word to word but longer because I am too wordy hhhrf I think this is a really good potential take too! Very sensitive to core demographic of the hunters and historical period and context, while still keeping respectable nuance of the characters! Wanted to get the word here out for him.

[acesydneysage]

Gathering my sydrian prompts in one post

Some of these were originally directed at people who asked for prompts, and others were AU ideas, so they go from extremely vague to way too detailed. I'm copying them all here for my own convenience, but if anybody is interested, please go ahead and use them, and let me know you did.

Any character's reaction to finding out about sydrian that we haven't seen. Specifically Abe, specially if they're present being adorable. Sydney sassing Abe is a bonus. I really wish we'd gotten more reactions.

Just Sydney and Adrian going around solving supernatural mysteries and being a cute couple

Bring Hopper back, somehow

Sydrian being good parents! I made one post in my sydrian tag about them adopting a bunch of kids and one about Adrian dressing Declan up as mini Adrian for events.

I know it's January August, but Halloween is a sydrian thing, so have them dress up as Gomez and Morticia (I also have a post about that lol). Maybe next Halloween they can be Westley and Buttercup

Adrian's pov on romantic scenes from the first books. The Golden Lily has so much angst potential, with how he's realizing he's falling for someone who was taught to believe he's evil, and The Indigo Spell has some amazing scenes.

People finding out about Sydney's magic. I think the existence of witches would probably be a bigger deal when Moroi found out about it.

Sydney's mom and Carly finding her, and discovering that she's married and everything else

Vow renewal ceremony with all the friends who couldn't be at the wedding. Maybe Declan carrying Hopper on a red pillow as he carries the rings.

Alt ending where they go to whatever escape plan of theirs is your favorite

Alt ending where they lead a rebellion against the alchemists, effect large scale change with the witches and ex-alchemists' help and liberate more reeducation centers

AU where Adrian is an architect who wants to do insane, impossible things and Sydney is an engineer who tries to make him be reasonable, or tries to make it work

Similarly, writer/editor AU

Childhood friends AU. I think his family could have an estate close to Sydney's house and they see each other every summer. They never mention their ties to the supernatural, and as Sydney gets older she's in denial about the fact that her friend is obviously a Moroi, and therefore she should stop being his friend. That interrogation scene in Last Sacrifice is the first time Adrian saw her in a few years, and that's how he finds out she's an Alchemist, and by them he knows about Alchemists' beliefs.

Childhood rivals AU

All human AU where he helps her dismantle the cult her dad leads

Trying to explain to her human friends from Palm Springs that she didn't marry her brother

Paint fights. I like them.

Neil comes back, and they get scared that he wants Declan back

Dealing with Sydney's PTSD and Adrian's mental health, preferably ending in hopeful note, with healthy coping mechanisms and communication

AU where Sydney is a mechanic working for her mom and Adrian finds excuses to come over, and let's her drive the Ivashkinator.

Regency fake marriage AU where they elope so Sydney won't have to marry a creep Jared tried to set her up with, and then they mutually pine

Art thieves au, either Sydney is the investigator, or they're a team, or one evolving into the other

AU where Sydney is living with her recently widowed sister Carly, after her husband Keith died suddenly, and she just happens to be an expert on poisons. The life expectancy of abusive husbands drops sharply. Adrian starts to figure it out, but he's moved tohelp her get away instead of turning her in.

That last one could be paired with a pen-pals AU, where they become close friends and develop feelings through letters but don't really know each others' identity. I think it could start with Sydney requesting a book she needs, and Adrian sends it to her with a quippy note, and in her thank you letter she can't stop herself from making a thinly veiled sarcastic reply. They keep up the back and forth because they find each other funny. I can maybe insert bi!Adrian into the narrative by not having him know she's a woman, and just trying to very subtly suss out if his pen pal might be into men. If they end up in the same city (like if you pair it with the one above) being convinced that she's a male researcher could justify why he doesn't figure out that she's his pen pal when it starts getting obvious.

Silver Shadows Fake marriage AU where Lissa is right and the wedding in Silver Shadows was just to protect her. I think I might have a longer post on that already. Sydney was sent to re-education for something else, and Adrian breaks her out. They love each other but aren't couple, and he doesn't wnt her to be with him out of gratitude, while she feels bad about how she rejected him,or for the things she said in re-education. When they leave court to find Jill they keep finding excuses for why they have to keep up the fake marriage.

Old Hollywood fake marriage AU where Adrian's reputation is in danger (maybe because he's bi and his break up with his last boyfrind got some attention, causing speculation), so the studio has him marry Sydney for good publicity. Maybe late 1940's, early 50's? I initially thought Sydney could be screenwriter struggling to get proper credit for her work as woman, but actually, it would be just like Sydney to start taking on a lot of jobs and managing everything, becoming a de facto producer who had to learn everything on the job and gets no credit.

Youtuber AU where Adrian watches Sydney's art history video to pass a test, and he keeps watching her talk about any nerd topic because he likes her, and her excitement about knowledge is cute. She watches Adrian and Rowena's art channel, and loves seeing him paint and how passionate he is about it. I just really like how they make heart eyes at each other whenever one of them is passionate about something in the books. Cassie can have a cooking channel, and teach Adrian how to cook for their first date.

[plumrabbit]

DA Fandom and moving forward - Calling In vs. Calling Out

Hi everyone,

As a PoC member of the DA fandom, I felt I have been quiet for long enough on the issues that have been presented recently. I am not here to argue against or on behalf of any individual or group, I am only here to present some information that I hope will be helpful moving forward. This is a long post, but it’s my hope that if you read it and want to help contribute to making this place better for everyone, then you will be willing to try to put what is said here into practice.

Since I am a relatively small blog, I wanted to start with a little personal introduction that will segue into the topic at hand. My name is Liz (you can call me Jade too, that’s part of my middle name), and I am a mixed race, “ambiguously brown”, aspec person from Canada. I grew up around mostly other immigrant families, attended predominantly non-white schools that were run by mostly white admins, and completed my degrees at a very white university in a field that does not have much racial diversity. I have experienced racism first-hand many times including, but not limited to, name-calling/slurs, fetishization/exotification, being followed by staff, people second-guessing my name, jokes about hurting/killing people of my race, etc. as well as witnessing racism directed at my friends and peers. I know exactly what it’s like to be exhausted and feel unsafe or othered.  There is, however, one thing I need to point out about the multitude of instances of racism I’ve experienced - most of them were caused by ignorance, and not malice. Yes there are absolute assholes out there, but personally I can count those people I’ve encountered on one hand (I am not speaking for everyone, though). The vast majority of racism, bigotry and general harmful acts come from a place of ignorance, particularly on left-leaning tumblr (to clarify, this discussion is centered around well-meaning people and not the actual lost causes). When I say ignorance, I don’t mean a lack of education or intelligence, I mean not being able to see or understand an issue from another person’s perspective. It’s not quite the same as empathy either (where empathy means you are able to feel another person’s emotions), but fighting ignorance does require empathy. It also requires knowledge on the context of the specific situation, and that I believe is the crux of the problem.  I think the main reason why this is issue is particularly prevalent in the DA fandom is a result of the too-close-to-reality-to-ignore inspirations that have been confirmed by the devs. Yes, it’s fiction, but there are also a lot of people that see themselves (mis)represented in the themes and characters. And what one person sees as disrespectful, another person may not see at all. This can come full circle, too, for example: one person sees themselves and their trauma represented in a character, another person sees their race misrepresented in the same character. Person 1 uses the character as a comfort character or coping strategy. Person 2 thinks using that character in certain situations is disrespectful. Neither one sees the other’s perspective.  This is where intersectionality starts to come into play, and requires empathy and effort to address the intentions and emotions of the other person. Perhaps person 1 is LGBTQ+ and has been traumatized by being as such, and uses Dorian as a character to explore their trauma. Perhaps person 2 is Brown, and racism towards their people is their trigger, and thinks person 1 did not do Brown representation justice in their creative works.  Looking at this more specifically, person 1 may have put Dorian in sexual situations. Person 2 feels that the way it was conveyed was fetishist or exotified. Person 2 doesn’t know person 1′s intentions. Person 1 is not aware of certain descriptions that are racist (e.g. using food to describe a PoC’s skin tone). Perhaps person 1 was self-inserting and wanted to feel desirable on their own terms, but this gave person 2 that squick factor.  Now person 2 wants to address this issue, and I think this is where a call-in (not a call-out) would be appropriate. Here is a good infographic that compares the two: 

(Original source)

Note that there is quite a large difference in the language used. Going back to the above example, person 2 could privately message person 1 asking them why they chose to represent Dorian the way they did, with specific examples, and using call-in language (and I’m going to get back to this in a minute). 

The point of this post and infographic isn’t meant to tell marginalized groups how they should be bringing up issues (though it is a good guide if you are concerned about being polite, particularly to a first time offender), it’s intended to demonstrate to people unintentionally participating in harmful behaviour what a call-out vs. call-in looks like. For PoC and other marginalized groups, yes it does take emotional labour to use call-in language and to try to understand someone that wounded you (here is a good read that incorporates the concept of emotional labour for call-ins, and discusses asking yourself if you are ready to do so). For the people who have unintentionally hurt a marginalized individual or group, please understand that someone calling you in is not an attack, it’s a chance to explain why you expressed something the way you did. 

That being said, we may have reached another hurdle. What if you call someone in, and the person called in does not want to discuss the fact that they were inserting their personal trauma? I think this is where things start to get a bit messy, but I am of the opinion that if you’ve unintentionally triggered someone else’s trauma through ignorance present in your work, you owe it to them to at the very least mention that you were inserting your trauma, without having to bring up specifics (anyone is allowed to set boundaries). From there, the discussion can be hopefully be opened up to learning from each other, and reaching a consensus. Sometimes that consensus requires the creator to edit or remove their work. As an addendum, if you are a creator that unintentionally hurt someone with your work that didn’t have an ulterior personal motivation, it’s your responsibility to understand why what you did was wrong, apologize, remove the work and do better next time. I know some people cherish their OCs, but you are allowed to change your perspective and make adjustments to your character without erasing them entirely. Now we’ve reached another potential obstacle - what if an offender doesn’t respond to your call-in? First of all, ask yourself, did you actually call them in, or did you attack them? Here is a good opinion piece from a Black professor on this matter. I’d like to clarify that I am not trying to tone police, I am speaking as someone that used to go ham on ignorant people on Facebook and Reddit, and has since changed their tactics and has even gotten through to Trump supporters (some of this stems from my spiritual growth as well, but that is not the point here).  There is another issue to address here now as well - what if you have tried, repeatedly, to call someone in and they just don’t change their behaviour? Alright, then it’s probably time to call them out. But again, ask yourself, did you truly try to get through to them? If so, well, at the end of the day, some people are, unfortunately, lost causes. In summary, a call-in is meant to come from a place of wanting to help someone who has seemingly gone astray, because you are worried about their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours towards a marginalized group. You know that if they made a mistake it isn’t them, isn’t their heart, and you want them to be able to understand why what they did hurt others, and give them the chance to correct themselves. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, because you don’t want your friends to harbour negative beliefs.  Finally, I want to give a real example of this in action. My cousin is a photographic artist, and was recently called in to discuss the nature of one of her pieces. Her subjects are usually people, and they come from a wide variety of backgrounds. To help support BLM (she does a lot of work to help fight racism in general), she auctioned off one of her pieces. The subject of the piece happened to be a Black woman. She was called in by Black members of her art community to discuss how people bidding on an art piece that featured a person from a marginalized group perpetuated the ogling and monetization of Black people. She gave a response that acknowledged that her piece did perpetuate this issue, because she wanted to raise awareness of this historical harm, and recognized that her intention was ignorant of this perspective. The Black community also acknowledged that the piece itself was not harmful in any way, only that the surrounding issue that they were painfully aware of needed to be brought to light. The auction went ahead, and the piece sold for ~$1000, all of which was donated to BLM.  I think as a fandom we should be cognizant of when a work itself is harmful, or when the intention is harmful. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t. Both are talking points, and we should not be afraid to discuss them, but this requires respect from all parties. We also do need to be able to recognize what is strictly fiction, versus what has real-world impacts. My askbox is always open and my DMs are open to mutuals if you would like anything clarified or expanded upon. Or, if you’d just like to discuss a topic, vent, or have any questions about my own beliefs, you are welcome to reach out. I am happy to discuss anything, as long as there is mutual respect. 

[thatspookyagent]

Meeting and dating Mr. Gallant (Black!Reader) would include...

Requested: Nope!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and implications of smut

A/N: I REALLY enjoy writing Mr. Gallant so I decided to keep going with headcanons about him and reader! I'm quite fond of writing the Evans' with a Black!Reader so here's one with Gallant! :)) Also apologies for this being lengthy, I started writing this up at a late hour and just got completely carried away! (This fic is intended to be male x male but is sorta gender neutral so insert yourself however you wish!)

Tags: @xavierplympton (thanks for being interested in my Black!Reader fics!) @sojournmichael (Also if anyone wants to be added to my permeant tag list please notify me cause I don't want to tag any mutuals or accounts who I'm not sure even want to be tagged!)

Important: Once again whatever the reader says is in italics!

You and Gallant definitely attend countless parties and he insists that the two of you should always be the hottest conversation topic

Makes sure he pays for only the best tailored outfits with the smoothest and most elegant fabric that money can buy

You two definitely spend your time in dark corners just talking shit about other people's choices of attire

"Miss. Dubious swears on her left hand that her emerald broach came all the way from Saudi Arabia!" "Yeah well, the bitch lied."

Sometimes Gallant finds a certain party too boring and needs to spice it up a bit

You and him sneak away upstairs, find the room with the most expensive shit in the house, and just go at it

The house cleaning staff are definitely Not Happy ™ about that

Recently Gallant started getting hired by some really big modeling agencies

He wants you to join him on his journey to becoming famous and even start up that haircare company you always wanted

It makes you relive the first time the two of you met which was back in the early days of your career as a hairstylist

You come from a long line of famous Black hairdressers who made a name for themselves within Hollywood

Gallant was actually honored to meet you which happened while you were on a business trip to Santa Monica with your uncle

He had tons of questions about Black hair and the history behind your families fame

You were more than happy to sit down with him and go on and on about things related to your culture

But you soon found yourself inquiring about the work Gallant did which is where he caught serious diarrhea of the mouth

"You know, I'm one of Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt's favorite hairdressers to go to! She's such an inspiration!" "To who?" "People..." "Riiiight..."

After talking for awhile, Gallant couldn't help but offer to take you to your first party in Santa Monica and you happily agreed

The two of you absolutely live for the thrill of new places and the unknown, arriving at some fancy party that one of Coco's close friends had arranged

Upon arriving, the both of you immediately have heads turning and mouths slightly agape

You feel Gallant reach for your hand which you interlock with his and you two both walk side by side as you soak up the attention

He 100% has you wearing an outfit that matches with his color scheme while simultaneously complimenting your complexion

He brags about introduces you to a bunch of other hairstylists who are locals and they can't help but adore the both of you together

One of them pulls you aside briefly and whispers in a hushed tone

"I've never seen Gallant this happy before, you really make him feel special. Don't let him forget that he is!"

"I don't think that'll be a problem!"

Eventually Gallant leads you to a more secluded area of the house, claiming that there were more people to meet and champagne to drink

Once you two are alone, he stops walking and turns around in order to plant a delicate kiss on your lips which you discover tastes like the drinks being served earlier that day

You can't help but laugh against his lips as you pull the kiss in even closer, your broad nose squishing against his own

All of the party noise behind the both of you seems to drone completely out, only thing in the world is now you and him which you're perfectly content with

"You're a rather eager and handsome young man Mr. Gallant." "How could I not kiss you?" "If you want, we can do more than just kissing..."

That night definitely included the both of you slipping away to some upstairs bedroom and showing Mr. Gallant just what you meant by more than kissing

You huff softly against the back of his neck as you hold him close to your chest, his back facing you as the two of you relax under the silk bed sheets

"Someone at the party told me you were quite special, and I think they're quite right."

The bleach blonde male turns to face you, beaming from ear to ear as you move to cup his face in your hands

"I should be deemed the luckiest man on Earth just for being in your presence alone."

Before you and Gallant can kiss, a knock a the sorry startles the two of you, causing you and him to gather up your clothes quickly and crawl under the bed

The stranger enters the room and seemingly scans it, you turn to directly face the other male, the two of your noses touching as you pulled a face but soon the both of you were putting your hands against your mouths in attempts to stifle laughter

The unknown room searcher exits while closing the door behind them, the only thing that can be heard for a few minutes is the sound of you two breathing raggedly in the anticipation of another random stranger entering the room

Suddenly you and your white haired companion burst out laughing, not being able to determine if it was the sheer adrenaline or thought of getting caught that had excited the both of you into a fit of giggles

Exchanging a quick kiss, you both slide from under the bed and put your clothes on in a hurry, Gallant making sure to stop you momentarily in order to fix your outfit

You open the door softly and peak around the corner before waving him over, he grabs your hand and the both of you make your way down the hallway

A sharp yell rings out just behind the two of you, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of inquisitiveness and confusion on what to do next

"Should we run?" "Good idea! That makes this even more fun!"

[whitewolfandthefox]

26 + Geralt x reader for the Horror and the Wild prompts!

Summary: Modern AU, Geralt x fem!reader. An early snowfall has Geralt trapped in town where he’s been staying for meetings, unable to get to his winter house. Enter you, bringing memories from many years past.

Prompt 26: Come rest for the winter, wear my jumper all night long.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: fluff, whole lotta fluff, teeth rotting fluff

Masterlist

A/N. This is for my lovely Lu, who is ever so helpful and I love dearly. Hope you enjoy this babe!

Add yourself to my taglist!

Hide Under the Covers

The winter started out cold and had come far too early for Geralt’s liking. He had ended up staying in the small town he was in for an extra week when his boss had booked him for extra meetings. He had recently been promoted to Project Manager, which had resulted in more work and him having to physically meet with the clients rather than being given the briefing. Not that he minded, he didn’t have anyone to go home to. At least he thought he wouldn’t mind, until the snow came early and blocked the path to his house in the mountains. Normally he would snowshoe or ski up to his winter home once the snow set in, but he hadn’t anticipated the early snowfall and had left them there. He had been planning on making the move this weekend, having just finished renting out his summer home, which he was now regretting. 

The town itself was nice, he didn’t mind staying there. He could do some touristy things, there were quite a few small businesses, a university, some schools, along with some museums and galleries. It was a quaint, pretty little place, it would just be lonely.

He had found himself in a small restaurant, perusing a menu as he debated what his next move was. Geralt sighed into his beer, knowing he had to find somewhere to stay until the paths cleared enough that he could get up to his house. Maybe a hotel? That would be expensive, but it’s not like he couldn’t afford it. He just hated staying in hotels any longer than he had to, they always felt so impersonal. As he flagged the waitress down, asking for a second pint of beer, he heard a familiar sound. Perking up, he scanned the room before his eyes landed on a figure that he hadn’t seen in a couple of years. 

He remembered the last time he had seen you, a somber parting as the two of you went your own ways. The two of you had been dating for a few years, the talk of engagement having been thrown around. Geralt had even recruited your best friend to go ring shopping with him, trying to get ideas of what you might like. That all changed when he had been headhunted by the company he was with now. It had been his dream job, a senior architect at a construction company. The only hitch had been that the company was in Europe; they had seen some of his work and wanted his input on the design of their new corporate building. If they liked his work, there was the guarantee of a long term contract overseeing multiple projects within the company.

You had debated going with him, teaching being fairly mobile. Just as you had decided to go with him, you were offered the position of curriculum consultant. You had just finished your Masters in Education, so this was a huge step for you, being able to get out of the classroom and share your expertise with other teachers. It had been too big of an opportunity for you to pass up, and after a series of fights and disagreements, the two of you had tearfully agreed to end your relationship, neither person able to give up the advancement in their career. Geralt had moved to Europe, slowly working his way up through his new company while you stayed back in Canada.

A small smile appeared on his face at the sight of you, a warm feeling flaring in his chest even after three years. He still thought of you sometimes, even though he knew nothing would come of it. You seemed to sense his gaze on you, looking up only to freeze when you met his eyes. A light blush came over your cheeks as you stared at him before you excused yourself from the group you were with, quickly making your way over to Geralt’s table before dropping into the chair across from him.

“Geralt!” you exclaimed, pinning him with a brilliant grin. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“Y/N,” he offered, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, busy. I’ve been researching a new teaching method, just working on writing my thesis to get my PhD.” Your passion was clear to see, bubbling over into any interaction you had. Geralt smiled gently as you continued telling him about the specifics of your research, you had always talked about moving away from the classroom into pedagogy and continuing your education. Anyone else would have been horrified to see you launch right into your conversation, totally disregarding the time apart, but Geralt just chuckled, it was so you.

“But enough about me, what have you been doing? How did the new job go?” You focused your attention on him completely. As Geralt met your gaze it felt like the sun had appeared from behind the clouds, like there had been a fog drifting through his life that had been burned away now that you were back.

“I’m Project Manager now, I was in town for the week for meetings, talking with the client to see what exactly they wanted. I’m enjoying it, I’m challenged every day, and the work is constantly changing, which has been exactly what I needed.” It felt natural, talking to you again, as if the three years you had spent apart had never happened. You had propped your fist under your chin, giving him all of your attention, jumping when the waiter came by to take your orders. The two of you had quickly requested your meals before continuing your conversation, Geralt telling you about all of the different buildings and projects he had been overseeing. You had chatted a while longer, silence falling when your food was placed in front of you. The silence that fell wasn’t awkward, it was easy, right, to be sitting with you once more. 

You had grinned at him when Geralt had ordered dessert, he knew you had a wicked sweet tooth. As the dish was placed in the middle of the table, the conversation picked up. You settled your arms on the table in front of you as the conversation changed to relationships. You told him about the wedding you had attended a year ago, a mutual friend of yours getting married. Geralt could feel his heart clench as you mentioned marriage, though you didn’t seem to notice. You looked up at him, seeming to hesitate before you asked, “Have you been seeing anyone?”

He swallowed hard as he looked away, unable to get the words out of his mouth. Swallowing again, he managed to force his mouth to work. “No.”

Sensing the tension, you quickly changed topics, “Are you here long, Geralt?”

Relaxing now that the conversation was moving away from dangerous territory, he shook his head as he answered, “I was supposed to head up to my winter house a little ways out of town, but the snow’s changed those plans. The roads don’t get cleared so once they’re blocked I have to ski or snowshoe in, but I store them up there over the summer and haven’t had a chance to go pick them up. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get up there right now. Might have to wait for the snow to melt a bit.”

A furrow appeared between your eyes as you frowned at him, “So what are you doing if you can’t get up there?”

Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, I hadn’t gotten that far. I’ll probably just stay in a hotel until the snow clears up or I can figure out a way to get up there.”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers as you stole glances up at him. He waited, lips quirking up at the sight of your nervous mannerisms. They were still adorable, even after all this time. You glanced up at him, eyes darting away when you met his gaze. He sighed, leaning forwards as he reached for your hands. You stilled under his touch, lips parting as you met his gaze. “Out with it, mouse, you know you can tell me anything.” His voice was soft, and you visibly relaxed at the old nickname.

The blush on your cheeks reappeared, “Ah, it’s not very big, but if you wanted, you could stay at my flat? My couch is a pullout, I would just have to put some sheets on it.”

“No, no, I couldn’t impose on you-” you cut him off with a hand on his arm. Your eyes were gentle as you smiled at him. “I insist, Geralt. Really, it’s no trouble.”

He hesitated, not wanting to be an inconvenience but not wanting to leave you again so soon. You must have seen the indecision on his face because you squeezed his arm gently, saying “Besides, I missed you. It would be nice to have some more time to catch up.”

At your admission his resistance melted, a wry grin coming to his face as he accepted. A bright smile lit up your face at his words, a warm feeling overtaking Geralt’s chest at the sight. You flagged the waiter down, asking for the bill. When it was placed on the table, Geralt smoothly snatched it up from underneath your hand as he tucked his credit card into the pocket. He chuckled as he saw your pout, “Don’t worry, mouse, it’s just my thanks for letting me stay with you.”

You left the pout on your face but didn’t argue, still glaring at him as he paid and thanked the waiter. Standing, he tugged your coat from the back of the chair, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves. He quickly donned his own coat, smiling down at you as you tucked your hand into his elbow. The two of you left the restaurant, you gently guiding him down the street towards your flat. His heart swelled as you stared at the sky, getting lost in the stars that decorated the sky. You had always loved them, spending hours staring up at the sky when you get the chance. You were never able to see them back in Canada, the city where you had lived had too much light pollution, but the small town was perfect to let you see the beauty of the stars.

It was a short walk to your place, you letting go of his arm to insert the key into your door as you unlocked your house. The two of you quickly entered, happy to be out of the cold. The hallway was narrow, a small closet set in the wall. You handed him a coat hanger before hanging your own coat up. He toed his shoes off as you locked the door behind him. He waited patiently, curious to see the rest of your place. “It’s not much, but it’s home. I, uh, can’t afford much on my salary right now. I get a little bit from working with the school board, and I have grants from the university, and I make it work, but this is kind of it.” You looked sheepish as you spoke, almost as if you were embarrassed that he was seeing your home.

Unable to stop himself, Geralt reached out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You froze, staring up at him as he blushed, his pale skin colouring under your gaze. “Sorry, I-”

You stopped him with a gentle smile, “It’s okay, Geralt.” You placed a gentle hand on his arm as you slipped past him. He followed you into the main part of the small flat, curious gaze roaming the walls. The room was small and messy, but in an organized chaos kind of way. There were various textbooks and scientific charts scattered around a desk while a small kitchen on the other side of the room was piled with used dishes. The tv was paused in the middle of some sort of video, calculations and diagrams decorating a whiteboard next to it.

You turned pink as you watched him glance over the room. “It’s a little dirty, I know.”

“It’s you,” Geralt turned to face you, a grin on his face. “Your office always looked like this when we were-” living together. He cut himself off before he let the words slip. You paused as well, staring at him with an odd look on your face. He couldn’t read you as well as he used to, having spent three years apart. “It’s very homey, about what I’d expect from you.”

You flushed harder as you smacked at him, “Geralt!” 

He chuckled as you flopped onto the couch, pout clear on your face. He followed you, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. He frowned at you as realization dawned on him, “Wait, why are you here? Why do you have a flat in town?”

“Oh! Yeah, I guess I didn’t mention it, I live here now. I was offered a research position at the university in town, and once I finish my PhD I’m going to be teaching there as well.” You bounced as you spoke, clearly excited at this new prospect in life. Geralt had stopped listening, mind fixated on the words “I live here now.” Hope bloomed in his chest before he viciously quashed it. Don’t go there. Having broached the subject, the floodgates opened as you continued telling him about your research. He smiled gently as his mind caught up to the present, watching you softly as you gesture wildly, telling him a story about one of the classes you were working with in the local highschool.

“Do you want a beer?” He startled at the question, having gotten distracted as you giggled at yourself. You grinned as you realized what happened, the man sputtering out an answer to your question. Your soft laugh filled the air as you stood, Geralt watching your hips as you walked towards the kitchen. You stumbled as you returned to the couch, laughing at yourself. Handing him a beer, you dropped back onto the cushions, closer to the man than you had originally been. You took a sip from your own drink before laying your head back, “I maaay have started drinking before I saw you, I’m a few drinks in.”

As you leaned forward to reach for the remote, Geralt saw a flash of smooth skin as your shirt hitched up. He quickly tamped down on the urge to reach for you, to run his hand over the smooth skin he saw in the break in fabric before slipping under your shirt. He focused on the tv as you closed the video on it before opening up a streaming service, handing him the remote. “I probably won’t last the movie, you pick something you like.”

Geralt just sighed and shook his head, taking the remote from your hand before picking your favourite movie. “You remembered,” your voice was soft as you realized what film he put on.

“I remember a lot of things, mouse.” You offered him a shy smile at your old nickname, a shiver running down his spine as you tipped sideways to tuck your hands around his arm, head against his shoulder. 

“Geralt?” Your voice was hesitant as you softly called his name. He hummed in response, looking down to see you staring up at him, Y/E/C eyes swimming with emotion. He swallowed as he gazed at you, daring to reach his hand up to push that wayward strand of hair back behind your ear, brushing his fingers against your cheek. You closed your eyes as you turned your head into his hand, breath warm against his palm as it left you in a rush. You pressed a shaky kiss to his palm before opening your eyes, meeting his gaze. Geralt had frozen at the movement, hope flaring in his chest. 

“You said you weren’t seeing anyone, I can’t but hope…” your voice trailed off, hesitation clear on your face. Geralt responded by reaching for your other hand, lacing your fingers together as he prayed he was reading this situation correctly. That action seemed to give you the confidence to finish your sentence, taking a deep breath as you continued. “Would you consider trying again? Trying us?”

The knot in his chest burst at your words, a burning feeling rushing through his body, starting where his skin met yours. He leaned forwards, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, tangling it in your hair as he pressed his lips against yours. You were frozen for a moment, making Geralt wonder if he had overstepped. He started to pull back, shame blooming in his chest before your hands were fisting in his shirt, pulling him towards you as you kissed him back. He relaxed into you, the shame being replaced with a different feeling, something he hadn’t felt since the last time he had seen you.

The kiss itself was messy, filled with a passion that had been missing from his life. He chuckled when the two of you bumped teeth, prompting you to squeak in indignation, licking into his mouth as his laugh gave you access. His chuckle quickly turned into a sharp inhale, the feeling going straight to his groin. Finally, you pulled back, Geralt leaning his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You giggled, looking up at him with shy eyes.

“I take it, that's a yes?” At the sight of your eyes shining with happiness, Geralt let out a low growl, reaching to grasp your hip as he pulled you towards him, seating you in his lap as you straddled him, almost chest to chest. You gasped at the sudden movement, hands going to his shoulders to help stabilize yourself. You stared down at him, mouth forming an ‘O’ at the surprise of his movement. He couldn’t help himself, reaching up to tug you against his chest. One hand tangled itself in your hair as the other went around your waist. He could feel you relax into him, your own arms wrapping around him as you nestled into him. 

“It’s almost like you never left.” The sentence was quiet, murmured as if you were on the edge of sleep, but the meaning made Geralt go cold. He stiffened, quickly forcing himself to relax underneath you before you could notice. Did you blame him for the end of your relationship? It didn’t work though, and you were quickly leaning back from him as dismay came over your face.

“No, I didn’t mean- not like that- I would never-” Geralt quieted your stuttering with a gentle kiss, the knot that had tightened in his chest releasing at your frantic words. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling at you in an attempt to soothe you.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Geralt, I never blamed you for the end of our relationship. If anything, I blamed myself. I was selfish, I put myself before us. Some days I wonder what would have happened had I gone with you.” He tried to catch your eye but you wouldn’t look up, playing with your fingers. Geralt raised his hands, catching your fingers between his, causing you to still, though you still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I never blamed you, Y/N. I don’t think I would have forgiven myself if I had asked you to give up your career, your dream for me. You wouldn’t have been happy had you gone with me, you were never one to play housewife.” He drew a small smile out of you at that, your fingers twisting to intertwine with his own.

“I could have, if it meant staying with you.” Geralt growled low in his throat at your words.

“I wouldn’t have let you.” You looked up at him, shock clear on your face. “You would have regretted coming with me, you were so excited about your new position. Mouse, would you have let me turn down my job to stay with you?”

Silently, you shook your head, squeezing his fingers. “Then don’t think it would have been any different for me. You wouldn’t have been happy, staying at home or teaching. You wanted to help people, to train other teachers, and that’s what you got to do.”

Tugging you closer, Geralt kept one hand wound with yours as his other hand came up to stroke through your hair, causing you to melt into him. “Besides, we came back to each other, that’s all that matters right now. And I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

You relaxed further, leaning your head against his chest as your free hand came to rest on his hip. You absently rubbed at the tight muscles there, fingers loosening knots as Geralt let out a low groan at the feeling. You whispered quietly to him, the man almost missing your words. “I want you forever.”

A fire lit deep within Geralt, all of the happy memories the two of you had together finally coming to the surface. He had locked them all away when you split, not wanting to miss you, not that he had been successful. It felt right, having you laying against him, to be able to just sit with you in silence. He felt at peace, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Eventually you shifted, Geralt feeling you yawn against his chest before pulling back to look at him with sleepy eyes. He hid a chuckle in a cough as he looked at you, a feeling of fondness welling in his chest at the sight of you in front of him. “Bedtime?”

“Course,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before helping you off his lap. You stumbled a little bit, leading him to the bathroom where you handed him a new toothbrush. He brushed his teeth as you washed your face, switching once you were done to allow him to do the same. The two of you fell into a routine, almost the same as it had been so long ago. Finished, you led him to your bedroom. He paused in the doorway, not sure if you meant for him to sleep in your bed with you. He surveyed the room, seeing the cluttered bedside table, your vanity littered with various items, pausing when he saw the pictures on your dresser. There were a few of your family, some of your friends, and one that made his heart stop. It was the two of you on your third anniversary of dating. Geralt had surprised you with a picnic in the park, your favourite dinner paired with wine while you watched  a movie on a big screen he had set up earlier that day. He smiled as the memory left him, watching as you moved towards your closet. Mind made up, he decided he would stay with you, unless you said something. The two of you got ready for bed in silence, Geralt pulling a pair of boxers out of his suitcase as you changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. You shuffled towards the bed, sliding under the covers before patting the bed next to you in encouragement. He made his way to the opposite side, lifting the covers to allow him access as well. Once he was laying down, you shuffled towards him so that your back was against his chest as his arms went around you. He pulled you closer, nestling his nose into the crook of his shoulder as he closed his eyes and inhaled your scent. 

He never wanted this moment to end, he wanted to stay with you in his arms forever. Screw the rest of the world, screw his job, screw his responsibilities. You were all that he wanted, just to hold you in his arms. He was finally able to relax, finally able to shed the weight he had been carrying ever since he had walked out of that door and left you behind. You sighed in front of him, cementing the decision that had been floating around in Geralt’s mind ever since you had said that you lived here.

“Stay with me, Y/N.” his quiet voice broke the silence, you stirring slightly at the sound.

“What?” your voice was sleepy, bringing a smile to Geralt’s face.

“Come with me, rest for the winter; you have all your research collected, take a break for a little bit and stay with me. You could even wear my jumper, you know I like to see you in my clothes.” He cursed himself as he heard the pleading in his own voice, body tense as he waited for your answer.

“Are you British now, calling it a jumper?” He could hear the teasing tone of your voice as you shifted in his arms, struggling to turn over to face him. He helped you move, arms tightening around you as you slotted a leg between his. You smiled gently at him, your hand coming up to cup his cheek as you laid your head against his arm. Geralt held his breath, waiting for the answer to his request.

“I’d love to.” He let his breath out in a rush, squeezing you against him until you squeaked, smacking at him to let you breathe. You giggled as he let you go, a huge smile on your face. 

“I want to see this ‘winter house’ as you call it. I can only assume it's huge, knowing your taste. You were always fond of having lots of space.” Geralt grinned, not even your teasing could pop the bubble he was in, ecstatic as the thought you were back in his life now. 

“You just can’t decorate a house that big to save your life. This apartment is tiny, and you’ve already messed it up.” You glared at him, poking his ribs to show your displeasure. Geralt just smirked at you, swallowing your protests as he brought his lips to meet yours. You melted into him, hand coming up to tangle in his hair as you held him against you. Drawing back, he gazed down at you gently before pulling you close, the two of you melting into each other. You relaxed against him, breathing slowly evening out as you fell asleep, Geralt following soon after, chest filled with hope at the beginning of his future.

**~*~*~*~**

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[readbyred]

Just a self-insert story

It's not romantic, it has some CharTed implications but nothing involving my s/i. It's just a vent, sort of, because well it's always nice to get it all out and have someone take my side (even if I'm not really in the right here).

What you need to know about my s/i is that she’s fairly new in the office and her name is R.J because I’m red and ‘J’ seemed to sound the best in there so her middle name is Julie now.

The story is long and was written as a dialogue-stylised vent. The rest was written after I finished and the quality varies. Also there is cursing and a sappy, probably rushed ending. I hope it's not that ooc but you know how it is.

Julie rarely came out to the balcony unless she needed something from a friend of hers. Today was one of those days so when she realized that Charlotte was nowhere near in sight she made her way out. What she didn't expect was to see Ted standing there with her, also smoking. He rarely did, mostly he would just lock himself in his office and do whatever.

The two weren't talking, being completely honest Julie had realized some time before, that something must have shifted, when she first came into work they seemed pretty close but lately they distance themselves from each other. For a moment she paused unsure if she should touch on the subject that was the reason of her talk around their coworker but in the end she approached them anyways.

“Could we talk for a moment?” she leaned over standing between them and looking at the road beneath.

“Oh sure! Here or...?” Charlotte threw a quick glance at the man behind Julie who not so discretely began showing signs of interest in whatever the topic of the conversation was.

“Yeah it’s no secret. I just want to get something off my chest. It's about Adam” she said his name quietly in a suvgestive tone, as if she tried to censor herself although the three of them were the only ones around.

“What is it? I must warn you I'm not good at advice, but I’ll still listen if you want me to” giving her a weak smile the woman waited.

“We’ve been going out lately. You know how it is” Ted now fully turned his head towards them not hiding that he was in fact listening but Red didn't notice still looking at the cars passing by.

“That engineer guy? Aww, congratulations!” feeling a hand on her shoulder Julie looked up but the smile she gave Charlotte wasn't sincere, it was just tired.

“Oh, thank you it's just... Oh well no need to get all sappy, I know, but I can't help but feel some sort of way about it” she shook her head at her visibly concerned friend ” Don't get me wrong he’s lovely! I'm just being silly”

“Well, I could help you, I have some experience in relationships-”

“Yeah, lots of it...” Ted started bitterly walking up to the two talking women “Anyways, yeah sure tell us about your perfect, dream guy. What problems could you have if he’s so great”

“Ted-” Charlotte shot him a look.

“Unless he’s not. Didn't you say he went out for a ‘business meeting’ again?”

“Yeah, about that...” Julie looked down.

“What about it?” Charlotte turned her attention away from their coworker yet again.

“So” Julie began “I don't know what we are, it's all complicated lately”

“Oh I'm sorry to hear that, I've been through rough times with my Sam and I could help you some or recommend a professional?” as soon as Charlotte said the word ‘professional’ Ted opened his mouth say something but quickly shut it.

“I appreciate that but I'm afraid it's far beyond just rough. He’s great! Things are just getting bizarre. I mean we haven't been properly dating since last year before I came to work here, you know? He was so thoughtful and, oh, so charming and goodness gracious, I was awful. I broke things off” her mood shifted from nervous to upset, fiddling with her hands she continued to intensely observe the cars passing by “He didn't take that well, I can't blame him cause I know I shouldn't have done it. He was sad a lot and it made him so... Angry at times, at our mutual friends and all. He told me he doesn't wanna see me, to get out of his life. We’ve known each other since diapers, I know I deserved everything he said it just... Hurt, you know? Oh how selfish I must sound!”

“But you two are still talking aren't you? So it all must have been fixed?” Charlotte offered her a smile “Me and my husband don't argue that openly, I think, so I might not be able to relate here but if you’ll tell us more I'm sure we can figure something out”

“Really thank you. Both of you. Here I am taking away your lunch break with all my silly ramblings” shaking her head a bit she gave both of them the same sad smile she had before. It was then when they noticed she seemed to have shrunken in herself, not only tired but also strangely worried.

“No problem, it's not a big deal I'm sure” her coworker tried to reassure glancing up “Right?”

“Yeah, yeah could you just move on with the story?” it seemed like it took all his inner strength for Ted not to leave although neither of the women understood why would that be. Charlotte knew he was like that sometimes, when she tried to talk about Sam with him it went pretty similar. That didn't mean however she understood more of it than Julie did “You broke up. He started acting like a jerk”

“Oh he didn't, I had no right to hurt him like that! And he’s not a jerk, far from it. He’s so thoughtful, so protective. Everyone I know wants nothing more for us than to be together. You know how I am... I get a lot of silly ideas, I can get pretty nasty, that you probably noticed. Adam doesn't like that one bit, I embarrass him a whole lot doing things without asking and all that. My friends noticed that too, they say I'm much more pleasant when I'm with him, he tames me, if you will. I know I give him a lot of crap for that, sometimes I feel like I either agree with him or am just wrong and he doesn't take my suggestions to heart but we talked recently, this weekend actually, he made me realize that I need improvement and-” she didn't look neither of her colleagues in the eye. Charlotte understood, she got nervous like that too and decided to give the redhead some space “here I go ranting about details again don't I? Oh, well, on with the story you say? Well, he stopped talking - I was a wreck. But gradually - when he came back from his business trip after summer - I saw him around Beanies a lot. Always on my lunch break, you know? And we got to talking and he asked what are we. I was surprised, I told him that we’re no longer together, he asked how so and one thing led to another he said it was just a break! I was... Surprised? But it was so nice to see him so happy. And Zoe told me to get him back, then. And I was so awful - I told her I don't want to live like that anymore. With him. But luckily we didn't stop hanging out, me and Adam that is. At first I was grossed out to be treated as such, afterall I said I want to be single. But he kept on pushing and that way around December we sort of got back”

“Why didn't you tell us that, congratulations!” Charlotte’s weak cheer brought a small smile on Julie’s face but it soon vanished when the other one of her two friends spoke up.

“Yeah, congratulations for dating a pushy asshole-” Ted paused frowning even more as if he said something wrong “...you could do better than that”

He turned to leave frustrated with Julie.

“Please stay” Julie fully turned from the railing and gave him a pleasing look “I... I'll get to the end soon, I want your perspective on that as well”

“Ugh fine... Just don't expect me to take this douchebag’s side”

“It’s nice to get to hear your opinion as well. As selfish as it sounds I think like that too sometimes, it's... Refreshing not to be in the wrong all the time even if I am” shaking her head she changed the subject “Oh, right! As I was saying. We had a talk then and he asked me what would I do if he started seeing someone. After all if I don't consider us a pair then he may. I told him that I'm fine with that, after all I started this mess, can't blame him if him for getting lonely. And I'm not a saint you see. Goodness gracious don't give my that look Char, I never cheated! I just... Going on and off Tinder, just chatting. It never got any further I swear, I felt so terrible. Anyways, after he told me that he got very... Touchy. And romantic. And I know I ruined the mood but after a few hours, I asked what are we. And he said he could take me back. And no matter how awful I sound I need to admit as wonderful as he is I don't think I want it. And I told him that I want to focus on work”

“But you don't?” it wasn't a secret that R.J wasn't avoiding relationships, not to the point of denying one in favour of work.

“But I don't. I know he’s amazing but I’m not happy. I‘ trying but I'm not. So I said that it’s because of work, I don't know what would he do if I told him the truth! And he didn't really get the work thing either, he’s the traditionalistic type. But! He said he shouldn't have told me about the other woman which is good I think” she bit her lip seemingly gaining a bit of life back “But what is that supposed to mean? That she’s just a concept he’s been contemplating or a human but I shouldn't know? I don't know... Anyways I asked him about what he wants. He’ll take some time to think and for now we agreed I can be sort of his... With him that is. Not that he has to call me his girlfriend. He just can get me places and I don't date or make him jealous with my make friends and stuff”

And with that Julie finished realizing just then that her hands were shaking a bit. It often happened in situations like that, stressing ones like opening up.

“Um, it does sound complicated. I might have to look for the contacts to get you set but you can make it work. I got this good therapist” Ted scoffed “he could give you some directions. Give me a minute and I’ll get back to you I'll forget about it if I’ll do that later, you know”

And with that she rushed out forgetting to get rid of the cigarette she was holding.

“You’ve been awfully quiet” gaining some of her cool back along with colour on her face, Julie leaned back cocking her head and looking at the man in front of her curiously.

“Why do you put up with this? Don't you see this guy’s a duchebag?” he asked frustrated “And don't try to tell me you love him, you said it’s not true”

“I don't. But he has to put up with me, it's a fair deal” she shrugged noticing him grow even more angry at the situation

“Well, I don't know?” he groaned “Maybe find someone who doesn't have to put up with you”

“Look, I-”

“Found it!” Charlotte came back holding her phone with a random phone number opened up on the screen

“Oh thank you a lot! Let me save it on the phone” soon she was done with the whole process “I won't hold you much longer, I'm sure you have work to do”

“Dont worry about it, a little break is always needed. Speaking of which want to go out with us after work? It's going to be Sylvia and Bill, me, Melissa and Ted. It's just for coffee, you know”

“I...” on Fridays she always hung out with Adam, even before things got messy. Looking back at Charlotte to give her phone back she paused. Maybe one day off wouldn't be so bad? “I will, it’s right after work?”

The woman nodded.

“Count me in then” opening the door she paused again, feeling much calmer and lighter after confiding in her coworkers “Oh and you’re finished, right Ted? I need to get you some papers, so stop by my desk, alright?”

“Seriously? Fuck Sylvia, I wash my hands! And besides it’s my office and my right to-”

She didn't hear what was that exactly that he had the right to do, closing the door and laughing to herself. And yes, maybe her love life was a mess but it didn't matter because it seemed that along with her new job she also found friends.

[bnhablessings]

Confession

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing? (C’mon it’s Bakugou here of course it’s going to be a swear storm)

Words: 2,881

So I recently got into 19 Days (I binged read all of it within a few hours and omg I love it so much. I’m so mad it took me this long to get into it) and this was inspired by the moment between Xiao Hui and Jian Yi and a letter. I am trying to be vague for those who haven’t read it lmao but yeah, this was created because I love 19 Days and the characters remind me of Bakugou and the squad :’)

(I am being so self-indulgent forgive this mess I made)

I am tempted to somehow make a reader insert for 19 Days now help me

I headcanon that Bakugou’s favorite word is fuck

“Mina, this is getting annoying. I don’t even get why people like me,” You murmur as you hand her yet another note received by a guy from another class.

She scans it with ease before laughing.  While pinching your cheeks she murmurs, “It’s because you are the cutest thing alive. However, I am curious as to why you turn them all down. You got so many hotties looking at you all the damn time! I’m jealous!”

A new voice pops up and slings around your arms, “Yeah. Why turn them down? As a potential male who loves you, I am curious to know!”

Denki is, of course, teasing you but it makes you flush in embarrassment. You don’t say a word… until they give you the puppy dog eyes. You cave in.

“I have my eyes on one person but… he’s out of my league. He’s amazing so I just can’t imagine myself by his side,” You state in a slightly saddened tone.

Unbeknownst to you, they already know you are referring to. Their number one favorite person to annoy and a mutual friend of yours, Bakuhoe. They also hate how dense you are and how stubborn he is because it’s obvious the way his behavior slightly changes around you that he likes you too.

As if the two can read minds, they lock gazes with each other and seem to agree upon something.

“I know (Name)! I think you should give one of your suitors a chance!” Mina states loudly.

Denki nods his head frantically in agreement as he yells, “Yeah! Go out with me!”

“I need to go yeet myself off the roof now since you’re being too loud with my problems,” You murmur as you hurry to leave the classroom to evade all the looks you’re getting from your peers.

Mina and Denki merely smile at each other in victory. Yeah. They’re about to play terrible matchmakers but in the end, they will win with this. “Shall we go let Sero and Kirishima in on this?” Mina asks as she puts her hand out in a silent deal.

“We shall.” Cue the devil horns on the two.

~*~

You groan into your desk. Throughout the week it feels like your problems with suitors have increased. You feel awful for turning them all down and slowly you are feeling like Mina may be right. Maybe it is time to at least give it thought before turning a person down.

A flick to the back of your head forces you to look up into ruby red eyes. Your heart freezes from the concerned look you are getting before it falls. Right, he will always just be a friend.

“What’s up with you?” Katsuki questions

You sigh inwardly as you try to act like your normal crackhead self. “I was just thinking about how I want to become as muscly and angry as you so I can take down everyone in my path.”

Immediately, a vein pops from his head and you regret everything. Before he can punch you like he normally does when you say something stupid, Denki and Mina appear before the both of you. Denki casually wraps an arm around your shoulders while Mina looks up with a glint in her eyes.

“Say (Name), I heard that an attractive person from Class B gave you a note this morning. Did you think about what I said?” Mina questions most definitely catching Katsuki’s attention.

You sigh this time not hiding it as you get up. “I need to get a snack before Aizawa comes back,” You state.

In your absence and now stuck with worse idiots, Katsuki gets visibly even more annoyed. “What the hell are you two planting in her head?” He growls out affected by how distant you seemed lately.

“Oh! She’s been having trouble with confessions lately so we merely suggested she should give one of them a chance,” Denki states like it’s no biggie.

Katsuki’s eyes widen and his scowl grows. A popping sound is resonating from his hands. Mina and Denki try to hide their smirks. Checkmate for jealousy.

~*~

“I’m thinking about giving (Name) a note,” Eijiro states looking rather serious.

This stops conversation in the Bakusquad especially as Katsuki glares at the red-head. You are absent today so the squad has finally decided to enact their plan that should take effect tomorrow when you return from school.

Hanta is smiling as he asks, “A note? Like all the confessions she’s been getting?”

“Yeah! It seems pretty manly to do so, and she is really cute so I figured why not?” Eijiro laughs while scratching the back of his head.

He knows the risks since Katsuki gets weird about you. He knows he might get slaughtered but it’ll be worth it to finally see you together. To his and all of their surprise though, Katsuki doesn’t say a word. He looks angry as usual.

Deciding to up it up a notch, Mina asks, “Do you even like her though? You know (Name) is sentimental. She’ll want the relationship to mean something.”

“Well, we’re already friends and she’s not the type to make things awkward so I have a feeling it’ll be different. If not, it was a manly try!” Eijiro goes on.

When no reaction happens Denki gives it one last shot, “What do you think Bakugou?”

“Why the fuck do you wanna know?” He growls out.

Eijiro feigns excitement as he goes on with the idea, “Yeah, Bakubro! You know more about her since you two are close! Do I have a chance with her?”

“I don’t fucking know or care so fuck off,” It’s so painfully obvious he is pissed off from this topic.

The four members of the squad all sigh in an almost defeated way until a new voice speaks up. They turn their head to see it’s Todoroki who was listening in on the conversation.

“It sounds like you do know and do care from the distinct sound of popping,” Todoroki states.

Katsuki stands up out of anger now and questions, “How the hell does it concern you?”

When Todoroki doesn’t say anything Mina gets a look of pure horror on her face as she turns to face the squad. They all have some stupid way of communicating with each other with just their facial expressions.

You don’t think he likes her, do you? Mina is horrified at the thought.

No way, he and Bakubro just have a rivalry going on. Nothing new. Eijiro somehow conveys with the frown on his face.

I think he likes her. Hanta is eyeing the dual-haired boy.

Find out! The mission can’t fail! Denki is making the X movement with his arms.

“All of you are pissing me the hell off with your stupid faces! Stop moving like that too dunce-face!” Katsuki yells at them. They wince but are grateful he didn’t get the meaning behind their faces.

Mina ignores the insults as she turns to look at Todoroki and asks, “Do you like her?”

Todoroki is intimidating as he is silent in his pondering. With a nod to his head, he vocalizes his thoughts, “Yes. It’s none of my business what you do Bakugou but it’s obvious from the way you act that you like her. It’s a shame that she has interest in you as well but if you’re going to play denial that gives me the advantage.”

The whole gang’s faces light up at his words. Not the fact that he admitted his like towards their favorite girl but the fact he pointed out that the two idiots obviously liked each other. They turn to face their angry boy only to see his face completely blank.

It stays that way for the rest of the day.

~*~

“Did I miss much yesterday?” You ask softly.

Katsuki says nothing making you furrow your eyebrows at him. It’s just the two of you in the hallway since you both arrived earlier than usual. You were ready to give up on speaking to him since he’s being weird until he shuffles himself to look at you.

“Do you like someone?” His question is harsh and usually, the tone wouldn’t have bothered you if he didn’t quickly add, “Some of the guys who ogle you were fucking annoying yesterday, asking me where the hell you were.”

Ah, your heart feels like it’s stinging. Reluctantly you answer, “I do and it’s stupid because they wouldn’t like me back.”

His expression remains hostile but his tone is a bit less harsh as he asks, “What are they like?”

“Annoying and stupid, so a bit like me I guess? He doesn’t hesitate for the things he wants. He sucks at communication but so do I. However, I know he cares deep down for the people he loves. It’s a trait I admire and I know they’ll be the number one hero one day,” You state with a sad smile on your face.

You described him obviously but the look he’s giving you is one of disgust. “Oh fuck- They’re in this class? Annoying and stupid- Is it fucking Deku or that stupid Icy-Hot?!” The venom in his voice is terrible but understandable since he thinks you’re describing the people he loathes.

You don’t get the chance to explain as you hear a happy voice call for you along with the rest of the squad.

“(Name)! I missed you yester-“ Eijiro doesn’t get the opportunity to speak more as Katsuki almost explodes his face off.

He’s on the floor from the impact but he’s fine. You hear him groan. Yeah… he’s fine. Katsuki mumbles, “It’s too fucking early for this goddamn nonsense.”

When Eijiro gets back up he looks at you excitedly and speaks again, “I need to giv-“

He’s back on the floor. Mina looks at Denki and Hanta with confusion. Mission status: closer but almost a failure?

Well, they know Katsuki isn’t going to let Eijiro “confess” to you.

~*~

In the courtyard, the Bakusquad is trying to regroup during their lunch break. It felt like a long day that hasn’t gotten anywhere with their plan.

“Well, that was a bust,” Hanta states.

Eijiro groans out in pain but manages to speak, “Bakubro is manlier than I thought to protect his crush from me.”

“You got hit 49, nope, 50 times. I think you’re manlier for not giving up sooner,” Denki states as he casually passes over a list of tallies he made for each time the poor red-head got assaulted.

Mina sighs loudly as she asks in desperation, “Don’t we have a backup plan? I thought the jealousy thing would’ve worked but he’s just stopping all Kiri’s advances. Why did it have to be this hard?!”

“SHUSH! HE’S COMING!” Denki practically screeches from seeing how ticked off Katsuki is as he stalks towards them.

The boy is literally shaking as if he’ll explode himself. However, instead of the yelling they were expecting, he speaks in an eerily calm voice. That terrifies them even more.

“When will you fucking give up? I am aware you are just being so damn annoying to try and match us up. There’s no way Shitty Hair would ever seriously confess to her because that would be breaking his so-called man code. Knock it off before I get furious. Got it?” Katsuki growls out.

Hanta is the first one to speak, “Awe man, you knew?”

“If you knew the whole time then- You like her and she likes yo-“ Mina is cut off when Katsuki finally loses it.

He yells at them the anger and slight embarrassment evident in his voice, “She doesn’t fucking like me! Okay?! So drop it!”

“Why would you say that? She doe-“

As Eijiro and Denki try to convince the vicious boy that he’s wrong, Mina spots a certain dual-haired boy headed inside with a white envelope in his hands. Her eyes widen and immediately she jerks her elbow into one of the boys by her, which happened to be poor Hanta. He looks to see where she is looking and gets the hint immediately.

Mina slaps a hand over Denki’s mouth while Hanta does the same to Eijiro and they both apologize. “We’ll drop it. Are you going to stay out here and eat with us?” Mina asks knowing fully well he wants nothing to do with them at this moment.

A split second passes and his reply is, “Fuck no.”

Bingo. Mina gives her fellow boys a look suggesting that they best put on their ninja mode.

~*~

Katsuki walks the halls to head back to the classroom. It’ll be a while before class actually starts but he needs the time to think for a bit. However, that thought flies right out the window as soon as he hears your soft-spoken voice right around the corner. He stops and sticks to the wall to eavesdrop.

“Todoroki… what is this?” Your voice is doubtful and it sounds like you are giving something back to him.

Katsuki is deathly still as he listens to Icy-Hot speak, “You know what it is. I know it’s in vain because you already like someone else, don’t you?”

When you speak, Katsuki is surprised at how shaky your voice comes out, “Yes. It’s stupid but yes. I was going to try, really try per Mina’s request to say yes to someone’s confession. As soon as I saw your envelope I was going to say yes- but I just- I just can’t.”

“It is Bakugou, correct?” Todoroki questions.

Katsuki can’t explain it but his blood is boiling yet again. This time he is angry at himself because this just doesn’t seem correct. Your words from earlier don’t match now.

“Yes.”

Todoroki hums and asks, “May I know why?”

You reply without a hitch and this time with a certain fondness in your tone, “He can be so damn infuriating. He is smart but can be a bit dumb as I did say similar words to him earlier and he thought I was referring to you or Midoriya. Even if he denies it he’s a pretty good friend. He takes care of us. I’ve never seen someone deny friendship the way he has but still remember details that no one else would-“

Katsuki’s heart is pounding. He’s pissed because he was wrong. Even more so that you are confessing everything to Icy-Hot about him and not to him. It bothers him that the stupid Icy-Hot guy thought he had a chance with you and even more so that you could’ve said yes if your feelings weren’t strong enough for him. He can’t take it anymore.

You freeze in absolute fear upon hearing footsteps step out as Katsuki finally reveals himself. Todoroki hides a pleased smile and states, “I’ll be taking my leave now. I’ll see you in class (Last Name).”

You’re too in shock to return his goodbye. Instead, you’re contemplating on running for your life or pretending that Katsuki didn’t just hear your confession. The look on his face suggests there are no options as such.

Still you decide to play dumb, “Hello, Bakugou. Fine weather, we’re having, huh?”

STUPID. STUPID. STUPID.

“Dumbass,” Katsuki mutters under his breath before he tugs you by your wrist and pulls you into him.

It was worth a shot but now you are awkwardly frozen. Of course, you were expecting a yell or a punch from him but since that didn’t happen you were hopelessly confused at this new unexpected soft side of him. He’s hugging you tightly.

His breathing is ragged as he seems to be having an internal conflict in his head. You feel pain on your cheek as he decided to pinch it.

“I fucking like you too, idiot. Your mine now so if you get any more of those damn confessions, tell me and I’ll set them straight.”

He removes his fingers from your cheek and this time you pull him into a hug, unable to contain the happiness you’re feeling from having your feelings being mutual.

“By the fucking way you are the annoying and stupid one,” He growls out as he finally remembers the insult (though it is a trait you adore).

You laugh as you purposely say, “Whatever Bakagou.”

“BAKA?! Fucking whatever. It’s Katsuki to you now.”

~*~

Once the Bakusquad and Todoroki hear yours and Bakugou’s footsteps disappear to the direction of the classroom, they finally start high-fiving each other, minus Todoroki who is pleased.

“I had no clue you were just bluffing about liking her! What are you some kind of genius?!” Mina questions the dual-haired male.

Todoroki simply shrugs and states, “You guys weren’t too quiet about your whole plan you made. Watching you guys fail was painful as well. You simply need an obstacle to make you think desperately and have Bakugou fall into your hands.”

“We weren’t quiet? Maybe that’s how Bakubro found out,” Eijiro laughs.

Denki shakes his head as he does the finger gun motion to Todoroki, “Either way thank you for helping us out! We needed it!”

“I’m just glad Mission get the idiots together worked!” Hanta states.

Todoroki shakes his head, “See. Even the name for the missions is too obvious.”

Mina just smiles. The mission was successful.

[yamimori]

It’s been over 3 years,

And I want to put this out there, for the world to hear.

This is going to talk about some very heavy subjects, including emotional abuse, among other things. If this is a sensitive topic for you, or if you are somebody who follows me for my artwork, I am sorry, you are welcome to skip this post and forget it existed. But, my birthday is here in just a few days, and I want to get this off of my chest.

This post is happening because I recently decided to watch the 3-part series from Illymation’s Abusive Ex series on YouTube. I recommend you give that series a watch, and I will link it at the end of this post. I’m writing this up now because seeing somebody else do is giving me the confidence to do this now.

Before my confidence fails, I want to put down as much of this as I can.

The only other thing I want to point out now before we get into this is you can say whatever you want about me when I was younger, about my parents, about anything. I know, I was stupid, and naive.

When I was 10, I met a guy through a mutual friend on World of Warcraft. For the sake of this, we will call him Chad. Sorry to any Chads who read this. We were in an RP and we were shitposting in whispers about who knows what. He was 15 or 16 at the time. We ended up adding each other to BattleTag (RealID at the time) and we just ended up hanging out little by little over the months while we played WoW.

Over the span of a few months, he ended up slowly flirting with me bit by bit. And I was stupid at the time, and didn’t really realize it, honestly. I’ve never been good with knowing if somebody’s flirting with me, ask anybody who knows me personally, I guarantee they can tell you the same thing.

Over the months, when our friendship ended up turning more into a ‘relationship’, it escalated. From stupid things, like the mindless flirting and messaging me when I got online, to inserting himself into meeting my friends and talking to them, and making a lot of my friends dislike me, or outright stop talking to me. A lot of my friends stopped talking to me, or I, them. This was one of the mistakes I regret the most in my life, to this day.

This was, as I know now, grooming. Gaining my trust by hanging out with me, and gaining the trust of my closest friends at the time. Grooming is the act of gaining the trust or establishing a connection with a minor, for the purpose of a specific act.

This was not too long into our ‘relationship’, and Chad and I had sort of started officially ‘dating’ at this point.

And so much of our relationship at that point, already, even months into it, was control. He’d tell me stupid things about his family that I had no way of proving were real or not, but I went with it, and made up equally stupid things about mine. He’d purposely let his ‘friends’ (which for the sake of rationality, likely was just him putting on a facade) say horrible things to me. Call me a whore, tell me I was crazy, call me fat, so on. I let it happen. I didn’t deny any of their claims.

He’d tell me things about my friends that over the months, I was made to believe were true. He’d tell me they hated me, and that I didn’t need them, all while he was pulling at them from the shadows without me knowing. I lost so many friends over the course of our relationship, simply because I... never asked questions. 

When I go places with my mom, and wasn’t online, he would blow up my phone with messages asking where I was, why I wasn’t online. If I was asleep, he’d do the same, say I was ignoring him. When I was at school, in the shower, eating with my parents, all of it. It got to the point where he threatened to commit suicide, and then would go silent for hours on end. This quickly became the norm.

I would get random messages during the day about how he wanted to do it. Overdose, and guns were his favorites to talk about. And I mindlessly just agreed with him, already having been more than reprogrammed to be wrapped around his finger at this point. I was so just conditioned to believe that he was right, and that he was the only person I needed in life to be happy, that I was. Or, I thought I was, anyways. I didn’t talk to my friends. I didn’t talk to my family. I didn’t... really do anything. Friends would ask ‘How are you and Chad’ and I’d say ‘We’re okay’.

I never thought twice about it.

It escalated to pictures. Nothing ever completely NSFW, but close. Very, very close. And then to Skype calls with me in my underwear. Because he asked me to. And honestly, I got so used to just... going along with it, because I knew if I didn’t, he would threaten me. Threaten to fly to my house, and harm me, or to kill himself, or his family, among other things. And if I fell asleep, or got sick, or my phone died, or anything, I would get yelled at. But if I asked him to hang out, or wanted to show him something, I would never get a response, or would get pushed off.

I would get told I was fat and a whore when I didn’t go along with the calls, or pictures. I was told that nobody would ever love me again, if I left him.

I was told that I was worthless.

I was made to believe that I did not deserve any of the good things I had.

He told me I deserved it when my cat was hit by a car. He told me I deserved it when I had to leave my entire life behind in New Hampshire to move to California. He told me that I deserved to be ignored, and that I should kill myself on more than one occasion.

I feel like it is a given to say that I was depressed, at this point, as well.

I started dressing like how I was made to feel. Cheap. I dressed in things too revealing for my age, and talked about things too old for me. I felt disgusting in my body. He lived thousands of miles away from me, and yet I felt like I could feel all of the things he said about me, written into my skin for life. I could look in the mirror and feel nothing about myself.

I looked in the mirror and saw nobody. 

And yet, I played along. I didn’t comment when he made comments about how he wanted to get off to my pretty face. I didn’t comment when he said he wanted to bend me over the table. I didn’t comment when he said I deserved to be used, and forgotten. I didn’t comment when he told me that any kids I had would turn out to be whores, like I was.

I didn’t comment. On anything. I let it happen, because I was afraid of the backlash. I was afraid of the harassment, the threats of death and suicide that he held over me.

I spent almost two years in this cycle. I spent two years being torn apart at the seams, to the point where he made me suicidal. 

My mother found out. Right before our two year ‘anniversary’, she found out. And she stopped it. Immediately. This was in June of 2014, months before my 13th birthday. 

At the time, I was angry at her, in a way, and sad. I felt relieved, but I didn’t know it.

I felt hollow, and empty, like a part of me had just been ripped out of me. I felt like I had nobody left. I had spent so long dependent on him and his bullshit, that I didn’t know what freedom felt like.

I didn’t know who I was.

For the next year, maybe even two, I holed myself up in my room. I contemplated suicide. A lot. I thought that he was right. That I deserved to die. I didn’t contribute anything anyways, so what did it matter? I didn’t matter, people wouldn’t notice if I died, right?

I was lucky. I had people at my side who did care. They would notice.

They didn’t know what was going on.

I didn’t tell them.

I couldn’t.

I was ashamed, and I still am.

I found out that when we broke up, that his father did confiscate his computer, and went through it. There were hundreds of pictures of underage girls, the youngest age being around 7, some much more NSFW than others. It was given to the police.

I haven’t spoken to him, since we broke up. I have had zero contact with him since that day almost 4 years ago, and I beg to the Gods I never will.

Before you ask, “Why didn’t you say no? Or leave?” I tried. I tried over and over again, but the constant threat of death loomed over me. He had my address, he knew where I lived, he knew my only remaining friends. I was terrified. I was afraid that if I did, he would kill himself, or his family, and I would never know the difference of if he did or didn’t. And that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. I was 13, I can’t even handle now the thought that I could’ve ever contributed to somebody killing themselves, and I certainly wouldn’t’ve been able to then.

So I played along.

I stopped going outside. I became an almost complete hermit. I stopped showering, or eating. I felt disgusting, I looked disgusting to myself, so I stopped caring. I honestly just sat around and waited to die. That was my life. Warcraft, and Netflix.

Over the next year, I met some amazing friends, most that I still speak to even now, years later. And, they don’t know it, or they didn’t until now, but they helped me through so much that I can’t even put into words.

They pushed me out of my comfort zone, to feel comfortable around people again. To open up to them, without having to lie to make myself seem cooler or older than I was. They knew how young I was, and they were okay with that. None of them ever tried to stiff arm me into doing something that I wasn’t okay with doing. They showed me actual friendship that I hadn’t felt in almost three years, and it was... weird, to say the least.

 It’s been almost 4 years, with my 17th birthday this Friday. I’ve learned to be around people again, to trust them again, and it’s been a fucking battle, and I am proud to be where I am now.

I am ashamed of it, still, even now. The things he made me believe are still burrowed so deep inside of me, that even now, with years of therapy under my belt, they still linger. And my therapist now is even still helping me through them.

But, I’m here, aren’t I? I felt like, as a sort of personal pat on the back, to put my story out there, for other people who have been through emotional abuse to see, and read. And for them to know that they’re not alone. You are going to get through this. I’m here for you, I believe in you.

And to my friends, who have been with me, for the past 4 years, I love you all, so much. Thank you, for everything you have unknowingly helped me through, through the years. Thank you, for all of the late night Skype calls, Cards Against Humanity games, RP sessions and old raid runs.

You all mean the world to me.

This is not a post asking for pity. This is me saying that there are people out there like this. Things like this do happen, and that I was one of the lucky ones that had help from other people, to get me out of this situation before it got even worse than it already was.

I am writing this now, because it has been almost 4 years. And this is my gift to myself, this year. This is me giving a big fuck you to Chad. You can say it is fake, or just for notes all you want. But I wanted to get this out there, here, and now. This is my birthday gift, a big pat on the fucking back for myself for having gotten where I am now. With 250 followers on DA under my belt, a few hundred pieces of artwork, and the most caring friends I could ever ask for. 

So fuck you Chad.

Illymation’s Series: How I Met My Abusive Ex Boyfriend (Part1)

[onmywaytobe]

1-50 do it if you dare

ohoho challenge accepted 

(also i love you omg how did you know i love to talk about myself)

(most of them under the cut bc I don’t want everyone to hate me lol)

1.What made you start writing?

My teachers always said I was good at it and tbh I’ve always made up stories with like dolls or stuffed animals or whatever 

2. How old were you when you started writing?

I was 12 when I started my first novel (and that’s still the only novel I’ve ever finished, how about that)

3. What was the first story you ever wrote about?

That first novel is what I’ll count, it was basically self-insert Merlin fanfiction before I knew what fanfiction was, and I changed all the names so nobody would be any the wiser

4. What’s your favorite genre?

I’m really into modern fantasy at the moment, like anything mystical set in modern day I love

5. What’s your least favorite genre?

I can’t do hard sci-fi, I wish I could but it’s too much for me

6. What’s your biggest strength as a writer?

Probably dialogue? I write a lot of scripts where dialogue is the only thing that really matters so I work on that the most

7. What’s your biggest weakness as a writer?

SETTING DESCRIPTIONS nobody knows what anything looks like anywhere and I’m so sorry

8. What writing projects are you currently working on?

I’m waiting for NaNo to start so I can get working on They Met in a Cafe, which is about an art thief who falls in love with the journalist who’s been writing about him

9. Who’s your favorite author?

I think I have to say Tolkien, he was just so iconic

10. Who’s your least favorite author?

Cassandra Clare. 

11. What’s your favorite book?

The Professionals by Owen Laukkanen (it’s so good)

12. What’s your least favorite book?

This book called Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie, it took me so long to read and it wanted to be Game of Thrones so badly but it just wasn’t

13. What’s your favorite trope?

MUTUAL PINING (gets me every time)

14. What’s your least favorite trope?

Enemies to lovers (unless done really well) doesn’t always sit well with me, but I know that’s a popular one on here

15. Have you ever gotten anything published?

I don’t think so lol writing is very much just a hobby for me

16. Do you prefer to type or write by hand?

Type, I can write much faster and closer to the speed of my thoughts lol

17. What’s your favorite literary magazine?

I uh…don’t have one

18. Are there any topics you don’t feel comfortable writing about?

Yeahhh nothing too graphic (in terms of torture, sex, death, etc.) I keep it fairly PG-13 except for swearing haha

19. Where do you get your inspiration from?

Literally everywhere, I’ve never had an original thought in my life

20. Do you prefer to write fiction or poetry?

Fiction, I am so bad at writing poetry

21. How long is the stuff you usually write?

Usually I give up around 15-20k into a story, which is unfortunate

22. How do you deal with writer’s block?

I either take a break from writing as long as I can, or I outline the scene as best as I can until I start getting ideas for how to write the actual scene

23. Have you ever taken any creative writing classes?

None specifically dedicated to creative writing, just the general high school ones 

24. Which of your characters has the most in common with you?

Of my current characters, definitely Cam from Descendants of the Earth, he is so soft and loves his friends so much and that’s just me af

25. Who is your favorite character you’ve written about?

I loved my character Colin from my first novel, Stay True, writing him just made me really happy (I think because at the time I was obsessed with Merlin, and he was the Merlin in my story lol) 

26. Who is your favorite fictional character in general?

I would die for Samwise Gamgee but he would never let me 

27. What time of day do you usually write?

I’m trying to get in the habit of writing in the morning on the bus, but it’s usually in the evening when I should be doing homework

28. How much planning and/or research do you do before you start writing?

Usually none at all, I just make stuff up, but for Cafe I’m actually doing a lot of research bc art history is fascinating and I want to represent cystic fibrosis accurately

29. What writing related accomplishment are you the most proud of?

I think the fact that I actually won NaNo last year while also being a college student

30. Have you ever dreamt about your characters?

No but I wish I could omg 

31. What is your ideal writing environment?

In my bed, under a blanket, computer on my lap, nobody else in the house bothering me haha

32. Which published book do you wish you had written?

The Forbidden Game (by L.J. Smith), that book influenced my writing style so much and I love it a lot

33. Which themes do you like to write about the most?

I think I do a lot of found family/ragtag group of friends stuff, and happy endings for everyone who deserves one

34. What is the best advice you have for a beginning writer?

Literally just write. And it will suck and you won’t like to read it. But it’s so much fun if you just do what you love and enjoy it while it’s happening.

35. What is the worst writing advice you’ve ever heard?

 Idk I try to avoid most writing advice, probably just anything that says “never” write something in particular because like….that’s ridiculous

36. Do you prefer pens or pencils?

Pens! I worry about pencil smearing.

37. What traits do your protagonists usually have?

They’re usually stale cinnamon rolls, like they used to be so happy and pure and now they’re cynical and tired. And everyone is so sarcastic, because thats how I am 

38. What is your ultimate writing goal?

I would love to be traditionally published someday, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon if ever

39. What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever written about?

The weirdest thing I actually tried to turn into a full novel was this series about a group of girls who each had different supernatural things happen to them (one was selected to be a fairy princess, one had the power to manipulate fate, one was the daughter of Hades, and one could go back in time)

That actually sounds really cool summed up like that but…it was middle school, it was not good

40. What is the most random fact you’ve ever learned while doing research for a story?

I just recently learned that having cystic fibrosis makes your skin taste salty, so that’s a thing

41. What would you do if you were suddenly teleported into your WIP?

Hug the heck outta Leo (he needs all the hugs) and also try to join the heist crew lol 

42. How many drafts do you usually go through before you finish a piece?

One and a half, I’ve never edited a damn thing in my life lol but I do usually do a read-through after it’s finished and fix some things that I don’t like before calling it good

43. Has your writing ever made you cry?

Not as such, but I’ve made myself really sad while writing Voice of Treason (which is a feature film, not a novel)

44. Would you rather have your WIP adapted into a movie or TV show?

Lol well since Cafe is based on a book within a movie I produced, I have to say that I’d want it made into a movie

It would also make a good movie tbh

45. Where do you share your writing?

Only on here, and I post finished (or close to finished) things on Wattpad

46. What’s your favorite line of your current WIP?

Well I’ve only got the one small section so far, but I really like this line.

She laughed softly, her warm, coffee-stained breath fanning across his face.

47. What’s the first sentence of your WIP?

Currently it’s “Leo nervously slid into the coffee shop, glancing behind him” but that’s subject to change once NaNo starts

48. What’s the last sentence you wrote?

It was actually for DotE, and it was “Logan watched and laughed, grateful to be invited into the fun despite declining the offer.” 

49. What inspired you to write your WIP?

This is actually my favorite question. So I worked on this movie two years ago with these dumb guys, and within the movie there was the character of this writer girl, and she was writing a book called “They Met in a Cafe” and throughout the movie you see her acting out these scenes from the book with her imagination, which takes the form of this cute guy (it was not a good movie lol)

Anyway I decided to take those scenes and basically write the book that she was trying to write in the film, but I’m gonna make it make sense and it’s gonna be so good (hopefully)

50. What’s your favorite thing about your WIP?

I love the whole concept of it, it really just appeals to my silly romantic sensibilities as well as my fascination with art and history in general, I just think it’s really fun

THANK YOU FOR ALL THESE QUESTIONS!! I literally love talking about myself so much and I was in such a bad mood bc my roommate has people over but this made me feel so much better so thank you

[rilenerocks]

 I know that the deepest part of the ocean is the Marianas trench. I learned from a brilliant scientist who taught a class called Emergence of Life that water in the takes up between 50-70% of a human body.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve spent time submerged in the liquidy depths of me. While out in the world, doing the average activities that people do, I know I appear to be just like anyone else. I pass for normal. But I don’t really think I am and I never have. While lots of people seem just fine skimming along on the surface of daily life, I was always digging and probing and pondering. I rarely had a conversation with anyone that I didn’t rerun in my head, dissecting it, trying to figure out what else was there that didn’t show up on the first cursory pass. I always thought there was something else below the surface. Additionally I generally seemed to remember a lot more than other people. For example, I’d remember an incident or a series of them which I’d try to recall with someone. I received a lot of blank looks and comments stating that they had no idea what I was talking about. I realized that while it’s impossible to access all of our memories, some people actually do what I call “papering over” the things they’d prefer to forget.

While I was growing up I learned that my constant analyzing and revisiting certain topics was not popular with my family and friends. I heard “let it go,” plenty of times. But I didn’t want to and really couldn’t, until I’d exhausted every single possible interpretation of the smallest event to the largest, I couldn’t be satisfied. I think most people just wanted me to shut my mouth. That’s still true today. When I was young and sensed that I’d pushed the limits of patience with people, I’d back away from what I really wanted to do with them. It felt like dancing without a partner. I made people impatient. Always talking too much, digging too much and not leaving well enough alone. I got it then and I get it now. I don’t know if I was born this way or if I developed this trait to try protecting myself from all the uncertainties and fearful events in my childhood. At this point it doesn’t matter. I wish people were more understanding and patient with me.

From my standpoint I think patience is an underrated quality. For the most part, I don’t think people are patient enough. And as our culture becomes more of a pressure cooker, I don’t expect that to improve. Long ago, to help myself survive the rejection of my individual style. I’d turn inward. Withdrawal. I could seem present in a moment but I was actually away, submerged in myself.  I don’t think I’ll ever get to the bottom of me. I can swim around my interior for long periods of time, trying to get to some point in my self-discovery that feels complete. I have an anecdote about that. I was mentioning a story to my son the other day and he said, “I know, I know, I’ve heard this a thousand times.” That might be right. But the story was a seminal moment for me, the moment when I found Michael, my best friend and the only person I knew who was willing to go with me deep under, even when it drove him crazy and when he wished I could just be, instead of working everything to the bone. It was the morning after we first met at a wedding and had spent the entire night before, hanging out together and feeling what for me is still hard to describe, an electrifying fitting together that was outside my previous experience. There was nothing cerebral about it. This was a strange sensory phenomenon that we both recognized and were eager to keep. I was leaving for Chicago the next day and we went to the home of my ride where a number of mutual friends were gathered. There were people struggling emotionally with their relationships, including Michael’s girlfriend who wasn’t thrilled by his lack of attention to her the evening before. Always a helper, I plunged into all the dynamics around me, trying to smooth things over and make some sort of peace that jangly morning. Michael sat silent, stonily staring straight ahead and after awhile, I realized I was getting nowhere with anyone. So I announced my apparent failure and said, “now I’m going to withdraw.” That drew Michael’s only response, one word – “don’t.”

That was a stunner that changed my life. When I returned from my trip home, I found Michael and asked him to come to my house so that we could continue to build whatever this thing was between us. After some months of deepening our friendship, I realized that I’d found my spot, my safe place, my best friend, my life partner. And luckily for me, he felt the same way. I was twenty years old. During our forty five years together, we had our issues like everyone else. But in the worst of times, our powerful friendship and the way we fit together carried us through everything. When he died, I knew that kind of steady backup and trust through anything was over for me. A part of me has been deeply immersed in myself with the years of our bond still helping me navigate my new daily life. But I’ve recognized that his steady  presence in my life lent me the ability to be patient and understanding out there in the big world. After all the juggling of my younger days, trying to negotiate the relationships of people around me, I no longer have the impetus to absorb the parts of others that don’t satisfy who I am and how I feel. I am a different version of myself.

I am more than ever likely to withdraw now to my go-to place, internal pool that existed before Michael, that was still in me when he was here, and that is now where I feel my only true fit. He was always sensitive to my departures whereas others had no clue that I was actually totally detached and absent from whatever was happening in front of me. Much of my external behavior is performance. I am lurking below the surface because I truly don’t believe that most people want to be a part of me in the ways that work best for me. They like my parts that work best for them. Some think that having family and good friends is enough to breach the gap I created to process hard times long ago. My experience tells me otherwise. So I’m trying to find ways to survive this life with myself as my only anchor. I still have the strength of what existed in that magical way between Michael and me. I have skills. I’m strong. But I’m tired too. And holding on to what was isn’t an easy thing to do every day. I’m thinking about what I’ve taught myself to try to stay balanced while struggling.

I remember the day of my dad’s funeral. A September morning 30 years ago,  cool and sunny. I was driving by Mt. Hope cemetery to the bakery to pick up cakes and pastries that family and friends would share at my mom’s place after a graveside service. As I drove along, feeling surreal, I found myself thinking what I’d thought so many times before and so many times since. Out there in the world, while I’m engulfed in grief or whatever other feelings of the moment, people are running. They’re playing sports or going for walks. They’re sleeping, making love, birthing babies, dying, crying, working, hiding and virtually any other verb you may want to insert here. Living their lives, dying their deaths, feeling their feels. You have no idea what those outside appearances are concealing. Sometimes they don’t know either. All over the world, life and death go on, and no matter how important your own particular event feels, there is always someone else’s that’s worse. That’s one of my most successful go-to strategies for coping with life, realistic thinking. Sometimes I can make a small event feel like it may have long-range positive consequences to help myself cope with staying balanced.

I was working out in my garden in late August. School was back in session and my house is on a pathway home for lots of kids who come rushing by at the end of their day. Two middle school-aged boys were riding their bikes down the street when the smaller one of the two screeched on his brakes and careened over to the sidewalk in front of my house yelling, “dude, you have to see this giant flower!” He’d spied one of my massive hydrangeas and was knocked out by it. I smiled and said, “pretty cool, right? I think you guys are very special for paying attention to nature. Lots of kids wouldn’t have noticed.” They smiled and rode away. I saw them in a different place about two weeks later and recognized them. I said, “hey, aren’t you those smart guys who stopped to look at my garden?” They looked surprised but pleased. Yesterday, I was out again and they were going by the house, dressed in pajamas for what I surmised was a special day at school. I hadn’t noticed them but the small one said hi and waved as he went by. I hope what I said to them and my presence during their time going up and back to school will stick with them, both in regard to the nature stuff and in the fact that an old lady can be someone worth engaging. I draw energy from stuff like that.

As my dive goes further, I find I’m trying to work things out in my dreams. I don’t know a lot about how the subconscious functions but in recent days I’ve dreamed that Michael was just outside, mowing the lawn. Then I dreamed that though I knew he was dead, I also knew part of him was alive and living with another family. So I went to retrieve him. As I approached where he lived, he appeared, looking wonderful and accompanied by our beloved collie Flash who looked like he did at six months old. That dream woke me from the sheer joy of it. I also dreamed of my dear friend Julie who’s in hospice now. I had driven back to her home for a second visit and she answered the door looking healthy, feeling stronger, and again I felt relief and delight. My sleeping mind is swimming with with these images which are wishes and small comforts compared to reality. I don’t pretend to get it but the days following these nighttime interludes start better than the ones that have no evening respite from reality. And then there are my daydreams usually brought on my music or activities that remind me of old times or a surprise photo that can elicit powerful surges of desire and ache.

While preparing a sizable family meal which I’d done so often in the past, my day was infused with essence of Michael, to the point when I stopped to write him this letter: Dear Michael,

I’ve spent the day chopping and mixing and cooking all the food that goes along with preparing for company and a festive holiday meal. So that means you are huge in both your absence and your presence. I wish I could talk to you about what this feels like and have you answer me in real time. Maybe you are. The other day I realized that I hadn’t seen monarchs in a few days so I made a note for my records that they’d departed for the year. When I peeked out into the back yard this morning, the white butterfly bush was alive with them in addition to the painted ladies and the sulphurs that are still hanging around. That bush is smack in the middle of what was your tomato garden and I’m not kidding, that shrub is massive and still producing new blooms that I’ve coaxed along by diligent deadheading. But the ground is full of your sweat and love and I don’t give a flying fuck about how mystical and bizarre it all seems – I know you’re in there. One day we both will be because when I finally become ash and am rejoined with yours I want the kids to dump at least part of us there. Part amongst my flowers too and the rest? Apparently we’ll become some piece of glass art, showing up as silvery streaks in the middle of our colors which you know will be red and black. Maybe a little green for depth but definitely our political colors. In any case, when the monarchs were there this morning, was I wrong to feel you’d sent a few back my way? But no more. Those guys need to get out of Dodge because it’s getting chilly. Thanks, though. So back to the kitchen. It’s about a thousand degrees in there and I’m at the sink, cleaning carrots and you come in and I say, “man, I’m really hot,” and you say, “you’re telling me.” That same old line which I pretend I don’t like but of course I love it. Then you come up behind me and grab some random body part and move suggestively and I say, “go on, you perverse old man, get out of here so I can finish up.” I smirk and make some wisecrack but I adore the familiar intimacy. And then you stick your finger into a bowl for a taste and I tell you it’s unsanitary and you laugh and drift into the living room. You have the day off when I’m cooking because you do so much of it in daily life. But you don’t get a pass on the cleanup. I shimmer through these daydreams like an apparition with you and they cloak me in a happiness that’s so transient and ephemeral. I’d love to catch up with a wavelength in time where we are solid and physical instead of the myth we’ve become. My precious boy.

So there that is. I am away for large swaths of time in this watery internal cave because I don’t like a lot of what’s going on in reality. As I slide through my days in real time, I remembered when I read The English Patient back in the early ‘90’s. It was one of those rare films that wasn’t a disappointment to me as so many films based on books can be. Sweeping, beautiful, romantic, passionate and ultimately sad.

  I’ve been taking a class on Persia and Greece and there has been mention of Herodotus and his histories. In the movie, a tragic plane crash in the Egyptian desert leaves the wounded heroine in need of medical attention. Her lover carries into a cave where the walls are filled with petroglyphs that include swimmers. As he leaves her with food and water, he also gives her his copy of Herodotus, a “good read” as she awaits his return with aid. That’s how I feel now, swimming in a my interior cave with a good read for company hidden away from the rest of the world. Wondering when I’ll come to the surface.

    Withdrawn in the Depths  I know that the deepest part of the ocean is the Marianas trench. I learned from a brilliant scientist who taught a class called Emergence of Life that water in the takes up between 50-70% of a human body.

[worstshowever]

Alante & Nevaeh

“Alante & Nevaeh”

Season 6 Episode 2 

Original Airdate: March 8, 2017 

More Appropriately Titled: Kissin’ Cousins 

This season has been full of mooks so far. Here are two more. 

Alante emails “A small town guy with a big time love.” Nev immediately finds a way to make this all about him. He shares his dream car is a Cadillac Alante. Wow, big surprise. I learned something about Nev I neither asked for nor wanted to know. Alante is from Saginaw, Michigan. The crowd goes wild because 90% of America’s catfish are in Michigan. For eight (!) years, Alante has been in purgatorial relationship with Nevaeh. Ross and Rachel suggest she could be the female Nev. Please, for the love of God, I do not have the mental strength to handle two Nevs. 

Alante has gone to meet her multiple times. However, something always popped up that prevented them from meeting, which is completely shocking and unheard of. He says she disappears for weeks at a time. I also do that, but that’s because I’m rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. 

They get Alante on the horn. He met Nevaeh online when he was a senior in high school. They spoke for years, but it only got serious when they swapped heart and kissy face emojis. 

*Looks into the camera like Jim Halpert*

I look into the camera like Jim Halpert for the following reasons: 

1) Millennials are stupid. 2017 is stupid. The future is stupid. 

2) The art of communication is dead. Aristotle would be horrified. 

3) My mom literally just told me she needs attention. 

Alante and Nevaeh have Skyped, but she’s always been in a pitch-black room. Nev musters up the strength to talk about someone other than himself. He asks Alante if he sees how suspicious all these moving pieces are. Alante says, “I try not to think of it like that.” I don’t think he’s thought much about the mechanics of this relationship.

Nev starts rambling some garbage about how this will be the one! She will be who she says she is! It’s mad trash. This is why you should sign my WhiteHouse.gov petition to have me replace Nev. Max completely ignores Nev’s barf-worthy sentiment because he, like myself, has common sense. 

They're off to see the wizard. 

They arrive in Saginaw. Surprisingly, Nev rings the doorbell instead of letting himself in uninvited. After chatting for a few minutes, Max does something very Nev-like and asks if Nevaeh’s tiny girl brain is capable of keeping up with Alante’s highly intellectual wit. Trust me, he’s no rocket scientist.

Alante tells Phoebe and Joey that he and Nevaeh spoke all day long until Jimmy Hoffa here suddenly disappeared for months at a time. She would reappear and pick up the conversation as if nothing had happened. Way to keep the upper hand, girl.

Alante has seen eight photos of Nevaeh in the last eight years. The stress of not knowing her is causing him hair loss. He was recently hospitalized due to the stress she brings him. I dead-ass don't even have a joke for this. Some people deserve to get catfished. We’ve seen plenty of bozos over the years deserve it. Nev definitely deserved it. Now this guy (eight years!). 

Nev drives recklessly through a parking lot and then they arrive at their off-brand Starbucks. Alante sends Monica and Chandler all the dirty deets and we learn Nevaeh has two phone numbers. 

*Looks into the camera like Jim Halpert*

I look into the camera like Jim Halpert for the following reasons: 

1) He should know better. Midwesterners are smarter than folks from the rest of the country. Think about the mental fortitude it takes to endure a -30 degree winter. It takes some brains to do that and not die. As a midwesterner from the greatest state in the union (Illinnoying), I am ashamed. 

2) I have nothing for this point. I did, but it’s in an argument with someone about how it’s pop, not soda. Politely, of course. 

The google image search yields results. Nevaeh is really Audrey. She has 13,000 Instagram followers. As they look through her Facebook, a producer tells them how to insert their usernames into the URL to look at their friendship and see what they've posted to each other. They marvel as if this is a great hack. However, Facebook has a button called, “See Friendship.” This is a prime example of why no one, especially the kale eating, trendy exercise-doing west coast, can measure up to the great midwest. If you want kale in the midwest, you gotta farm it. But I digress. 

Alante and Nevaeh have 46 mutual friends, which is a lot for a fake profile. All their mutuals are in Saginaw. They send out the Catfish miranda rights to all 46 friends. 

They google the phone number, excuse me, ONE of the phone numbers and learn it belongs to a Latoya in Saginaw. They do their super cool cutting edge new hack and find she and Alante have 23 mutual friends. I don't think this means anything at all and has contributed nothing to this search but what do I know. I only went to one of Newsweek’s top high schools and one of Forbes’ top 50 colleges. Both in the midwest. 

One of their 46 new best friends messages them back, so they decide to come on too strong and give him a call. Royon tells Rachel and Monica he was recently flirting with Nevaeh on Facebook. 

Max then says something so white, it’s wearing a polo shirt on a golf course; “She’s hollering at guys in Saginaw.” 

The next morning, Nev tells Max he continued on with Nev’s Catfish, written, directed, produced, and hosted by Nev and nobody else. He spoke to two more fellas from Saginaw. They both said Nevaeh flirted with them on Facebook. I do not know if the intended purpose of sharing this information was to show the wide net cast by this catfish or to needlessly slut-shame her, but either way, they achieved their goal. 

They head over to Alante’s house. He’s hosting a barbecue. The guests of honor lucky enough to meet handsome, rational Max are Alante’s brother, Joe, and his godsister, Ericka. Ericka’s chest and shoulders are all tatted up and I think women who tattoo their chest are mad brave. She says she hopes Alante gets the closure he needs because eight years is quite a long time to string someone along. She is also positive Nevaeh is a girl. I love this juicy lil diddy, so keep it in mind as we continue on this adventure. 

Joe and I have almost the same pair of glasses, so I’m going to trust whatever he says. As he puts nearly a whole hot dog in his mouth, he tells Nev he hopes Nevaeh can cook. Maybe I won’t trust what he says because that’s really not our top concern right now. 

Ross and Chandler sit down to show Alante the deer they shot on their hunting trip. As they open Audrey’s (the real girl’s) blog, the recoil hits Alante right in the eye. Nev shows Alante his and Nevaeh’s mutual friends. He asks if he recognizes anyone. Wow, c’est incroyable, Alante recognizes his Facebook friends. Nev then takes a tone as if Alante was the one who asked such a stupid question. To kick him while he’s down, Nev tells Alante Nevaeh is flirting with other fellas on Facebook. 

They show him Latoya’s Facebook. He does not recognize her. MTV plays an angsty song about pain and love lost. 

Nev shoots the ole gal a very demanding text. Right as Alante falls apart emotionally, Joey and Monica decide to leave. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Cool glasses, huh? However, mine are gold all the way around. 

In the car, Nev gets a call from Seiairah, Nevaeh’s friend. She asks to meet them. The goons are concerned this is a trap. A trap for what. You’re two grown men with an MTV camera crew. What’s gonna happen to you. 

They meet Seiairah at what I can only assume is an abandoned gas station where teenagers smoke beer at night. Seiairah is good friends with both Nevaeh and Alante. She says there’s more to Nevaeh than they know and she wants her to come clean. She offers to call Nevaeh since Ross and Phoebe have been unable to get in touch with her. Sieairah does the job MTV is paying them a million dollars to do. Nevaeh will meet them at a park in an hour. 

They meet up with Alante and, shockingly, Nev breaks character and doesn’t storm into his house uninvited. Alante confirms he knows Sieairah and she has a big crush on him. Sieairah looked like she was 16, so naturally, Nev says something gross and disgusting. “A little young. She’s cute. Not sure what your hangup is on that.” 

*Looks into the camera like Jim Halpert* 

I look into the camera like Jim Halpert for the following reasons: 

1) I am disgusted. 

2) I am appalled. 

3) I am legend. 

Max does not touch this with a ten foot pole because he’s not a human dumpster fire. 

The squad arrives at the park. Nev’s gross comment is followed by something equally cringeworthy. Nevaeh is Ericka, Alante’s godsister. I don’t totally know what a godsister is, I barely know what god is, but if you were raised together and/or have “sister” in your title, should you really be in a romantic relationship.

Ericka says this was a lesson Alante needed to learn. Eight years ago, Serairah had a crush on Alante. To prove he was a dirty dog, Ericka made the Facebook page to show her he talks to other girls. She says she continued the page for so long at Sieairah’s direction and chose her side over Alante’s as some sort of womanly solidarity. Nev calls her on her bullshit.

Nev takes Alante on a man walk to discuss man topics as men. Alante maintains he never had any feelings for Sieairah and never led her to believe he did. Handsome, thoughtful Max stays with Ericka. She tells him she never came clean because she wanted to let him down gently. What’s more gentle than a national television audience and the court of public opinion! 

The next morning, Nev performs a classic Nev action and barges into the house without knocking as if he is claiming it under Taliban law. He calls Ericka to come over and “talk calmly.” Nev finds all women to be hysterical and incapable of controlling their emotions. 

Ericka has arrived and she knocked like a normal person who wasn’t raised in a barn on the Upper West Side. She says, “If you hurt me, I’m going to get you.” Yes! We’re finally getting somewhere. I wanna know the petty reason someone stuck with catfishing for eight years. 

Back when Bush was still president, Ericka began dating one of Alante’s friends. We learn he was a dog and Alante knew but didn't warn her. They dated on and off for seven years. At that point, it’s Ericka’s fault. Come on. This guy wasn't into Ericka and Alante knew but didn't tell her. 

Ericka gets honest and says she loved the attention she got from being Nevaeh. The two establish their friendship is over and Ericka leaves in tears. 

Three months later, Ericka and Alante are on the Skype together. His dad passed away and mourning brought the two back together. Ericka is expecting. Nev practices his best gotcha journalism when he asks who’s the father. He looks like a local Toledo reporter who once had New York City dreams. Nev was sure he was going to end the episode with an M. Night Shyamalan twist. Nice try, Nev.

Recommendation: 3/5 Would Recommend. I'm a fan of any episode in which we meet a middle (wo)man before we meet the catfish. Plus, this one had a good creep factor because of the godsibling aspect. However, their relationship was not high-drama enough to justify eight years. That's fucking insane. 

Final Thoughts: I apologize for the quantity of rants and advertisements promoting the midwest. However, I do NOT apologize for what I said. Midwest is best. Follow me on Twitter @MaeveMcDonough I was just told by my boss to clean it up, so you know it’s good.

[hellofastestnewsfan]

I didn’t remember having signed up to host a high-school senior in my freshman dorm room, but suddenly there she was, fresh off the train from her yeshiva in New York, suitcase in hand. She didn’t look like a yeshiva girl. Or even really like a New Yorker. She looked like a Malibu-born-and-bred hippie even back then, with her straight blond hair, her perfectly worn-in Levi’s, her giant eyes that drew you in and threatened to drown you. “Hi. They told me I was staying here this weekend. I’m Lizzie Wurtzel.” She dropped her suitcase on the floor and flopped on my couch.

It was 1984. I couldn’t check my answering machine for a message from the admissions office heralding her arrival, because I didn’t have one. I couldn’t send the office an email to make sure this wasn’t a big mistake, because we were all still using typewriters. Plus I was instantly captivated: What was her deal? In my memory of that day, she still glows yellow. “Welcome to Matthews,” I said, which was the name of my dorm.

“So do you like this school?” she said, getting straight to the point. She’d heard the social life could be boring.

All I knew about Harvard’s social life at that point, in the fall of my freshman year, was that it seemed to be nonexistent unless you were in an all-male final club or invited to attend a party at one. I told her about the giant bus that had picked up select freshman girls—those of us who had been plucked based on our photos in the freshman facebook—and then driven to a party with too much grain alcohol and not enough restraint. Consent was not yet part of the college vernacular.

“Sounds fun!” said Liz, and she meant this earnestly, not eye-rollingly. Four years later, in The Harvard Crimson, where we both became columnists, she would write: “I cannot deny that I have spent a fair amount of my time at Harvard at final clubs. I have drunk their liquor, snorted their cocaine, smoked their pot, popped their ecstasy, eaten their food and danced on their floors. I have no right to say what I'm about to say … But of all the stupid and morally questionable things I have done in the name of a good time—and there have been a few—I cannot forgive myself for hanging out at final clubs.”

The next thing I knew she was browsing my bookshelf, snooping. Wanting to know why I had so many issues of Seventeen magazine.

I told her I’d had a column for the magazine in high school, which I was supposed to have continued writing once I’d arrived at college, but with my schedule of classes and all the reading I had to do, I could never find time.

“I have time!” she said. “What’s your editor’s number?”

The next thing I knew, she had taken over my column.

Years later, she wouldn’t exactly thank me, but she would say that meeting a teen girl who’d published articles in a real magazine had given her the courage to do the same.

By the time of her arrival at Harvard the following fall––now Liz instead of Lizzie––she was instantly college famous. Within weeks on campus, everyone knew who Liz Wurtzel was. How could you not? Particularly after the popped-cherry party she threw midyear. Or rather, our mutual friend Donal Logue threw the party, and Liz commandeered it. “So the story is we threw a huge party sophomore year in Adams House,” said Donal earlier today, when we spoke to commiserate over her death. “Liz, a freshman at the time, showed up and announced she had just lost her virginity and it was now officially the ‘Elizabeth Wurtzel lost her virginity party.’ At first, I was surprised. She seemed so wild. When I got to know her and understood her Ramaz background, her high-school life, it made sense.”

Now Donal and everyone else who knew Liz, or has encountered her work since, are trying to make sense of the idea that she’s gone. Elizabeth Wurtzel died on January 7, 2020, at the age of 52, of complications from breast cancer. When I spoke with Roberta Feldman Brzezinski, her college roommate and friend ever since, she remembered Liz as “brilliant, acerbic, volatile, and fiercely loyal. In her last years, she became a fountain of life wisdom. Why do you care how people behave? You are the star of your own drama, and everyone else is just a bit player. In her case, that was epically true.”

[Read Elizabeth Wurtzel’s essay, “I Refuse To Be a Grown-Up,” published in The Atlantic in 2013]

All of us who knew her, in fact, have a Liz story. Our friend Amanda Brainerd, a real-estate agent who, at 52, will be publishing her first novel this year, thanks in large part to Liz’s example and urging, sent me a typical Liz-related text in the wake of her death: “She accused me of stealing the hairbrush that Jimmy Cabot gave her. I still have it. Also once relatively recently I bumped into her in the pharmacy in the San Francisco airport, and she hugged me then said she had the flu and was looking for meds. And yet her fearlessness helped me tell my deeply personal story, albeit in novel form.”

Wurtzel’s 1994 memoir, Prozac Nation, forever changed the literary landscape. It redefined not only what women were allowed to write about, but when they were allowed to write about it: their messy, early decades in medias res. Mental illness was no longer something to be hidden or shameful. It was a topic like any other, to be brought out into the light.  

Liz was suddenly the It Girl in New York, throwing epic, unforgettable parties in her loft. Suddenly, in the same way that she’d once drawn courage from my teenage writing, I now drew courage from her literary descriptions of early adulthood. “You should write about your war-photography years,” she urged me during one of her parties. And so I did. From then on, whenever anyone wanted to criticize women memoirists for oversharing; or dismiss personal writing as lesser or not literary; or shame us for describing, in intimate detail, the joys and miseries of human love, in all of its messy glory, we’d get lumped in together or collectively shamed as examples of what not to do. As the years wore on, we sometimes even found ourselves “oversharing” on the same stage.

After my marriage fell apart, Liz showed up at my first post-separation dinner party wearing an outrageous miniskirt with spikes and chains and spouting equally outrageous stories of sex with rock stars, completely hijacking the conversation until we were all laughing so hard, I forgot about my broken life. Yes, she was famously difficult. Yes, she could be infuriating, hypercritical, annoying. Sometimes I felt like a prisoner in her apartment, looking for a break in the conversation that would never come. But when the term narcissist got thrown around to describe her, I’d put my foot down. No, I’d say. She’s not a narcissist. It’s not that.

[Read Elizabeth Wurtzel’s essay, “1% Wives Are Helping Kill Feminism and Make the War on Women Possible,” published in The Atlantic in 2012]

I would argue, in fact, that when the chips were down, either for me or for one of her other friends, whether close or not, Liz was the first to pick up the phone and invite us over to carefully dissect each part of our sad, pathetic narrative, looking for places to insert a decent laugh track.

After she got married, she was happy for once. And I didn’t see her for several years.

The last time we emailed was this past summer, after I’d heard she was going through new travails. No, not the breast cancer that eventually stole her from us too early: that she’d made her peace with. It was other stuff. Private stuff. The kind of stuff we don’t––or, rather, didn’t–– share with the world, which was best discussed alone, just the two of us, for several hours, preferably on a floppy couch with several dogs between us. I kept offering up dates to come over for dinner, and she, in typical Liz fashion, kept flaking. “Hi and forgive me for the (very) delayed response,” she wrote on July 3rd, in one of her multiple forgive-me emails in that same chain. “I am like that. It takes me the longest time to do anything. Instead of reflexes, I have deflexes. Which, I’m sure, makes complete sense. Anyway, thank you for thinking of me. I am here and completely crazy, I don’t even know why. Shocked and maladjusted. That must be it. I would love to see you. Xelw”

The last time I saw her alive was last week, at Sloan Kettering, but she never saw me. Her giant, mischievous eyes were closed, lightless. Her yellow glow was gone, replaced by a hospital gown and the loud beeping of machines. Her mother was gripping her hands, leaning over her body like a chiaroscuro, shooing my friend George and me out of the room. We’d brought her a vase filled with fake red roses, not knowing if real ones would be an issue in her critical condition but wanting to let her know she was loved nonetheless.

I find myself wishing, right now, that Liz could send us a missive from the beyond, one last word to let us know she made it there safely, that the music was just meh, and that she was already asking everyone not how they died but how they lived, helping each to find, without shame, the humor, pathos, and humanity in their narrative arcs.

from The Atlantic https://ift.tt/2QTweNP

[rilenerocks]

 I know that the deepest part of the ocean is the Marianas trench. I learned from a brilliant scientist who taught a class called Emergence of Life that water in the takes up between 50-70% of a human body.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve spent time submerged in the liquidy depths of me. While out in the world, doing the average activities that people do, I know I appear to be just like anyone else. I pass for normal. But I don’t really think I am and I never have. While lots of people seem just fine skimming along on the surface of daily life, I was always digging and probing and pondering. I rarely had a conversation with anyone that I didn’t rerun in my head, dissecting it, trying to figure out what else was there that didn’t show up on the first cursory pass. I always thought there was something else below the surface. Additionally I generally seemed to remember a lot more than other people. For example, I’d remember an incident or a series of them which I’d try to recall with someone. I received a lot of blank looks and comments stating that they had no idea what I was talking about. I realized that while it’s impossible to access all of our memories, some people actually do what I call “papering over” the things they’d prefer to forget.

While I was growing up I learned that my constant analyzing and revisiting certain topics was not popular with my family and friends. I heard “let it go,” plenty of times. But I didn’t want to and really couldn’t, until I’d exhausted every single possible interpretation of the smallest event to the largest, I couldn’t be satisfied. I think most people just wanted me to shut my mouth. That’s still true today. When I was young and sensed that I’d pushed the limits of patience with people, I’d back away from what I really wanted to do with them. It felt like dancing without a partner. I made people impatient. Always talking too much, digging too much and not leaving well enough alone. I got it then and I get it now. I don’t know if I was born this way or if I developed this trait to try protecting myself from all the uncertainties and fearful events in my childhood. At this point it doesn’t matter. I wish people were more understanding and patient with me.

From my standpoint I think patience is an underrated quality. For the most part, I don’t think people are patient enough. And as our culture becomes more of a pressure cooker, I don’t expect that to improve. Long ago, to help myself survive the rejection of my individual style. I’d turn inward. Withdrawal. I could seem present in a moment but I was actually away, submerged in myself.  I don’t think I’ll ever get to the bottom of me. I can swim around my interior for long periods of time, trying to get to some point in my self-discovery that feels complete. I have an anecdote about that. I was mentioning a story to my son the other day and he said, “I know, I know, I’ve heard this a thousand times.” That might be right. But the story was a seminal moment for me, the moment when I found Michael, my best friend and the only person I knew who was willing to go with me deep under, even when it drove him crazy and when he wished I could just be, instead of working everything to the bone. It was the morning after we first met at a wedding and had spent the entire night before, hanging out together and feeling what for me is still hard to describe, an electrifying fitting together that was outside my previous experience. There was nothing cerebral about it. This was a strange sensory phenomenon that we both recognized and were eager to keep. I was leaving for Chicago the next day and we went to the home of my ride where a number of mutual friends were gathered. There were people struggling emotionally with their relationships, including Michael’s girlfriend who wasn’t thrilled by his lack of attention to her the evening before. Always a helper, I plunged into all the dynamics around me, trying to smooth things over and make some sort of peace that jangly morning. Michael sat silent, stonily staring straight ahead and after awhile, I realized I was getting nowhere with anyone. So I announced my apparent failure and said, “now I’m going to withdraw.” That drew Michael’s only response, one word – “don’t.”

That was a stunner that changed my life. When I returned from my trip home, I found Michael and asked him to come to my house so that we could continue to build whatever this thing was between us. After some months of deepening our friendship, I realized that I’d found my spot, my safe place, my best friend, my life partner. And luckily for me, he felt the same way. I was twenty years old. During our forty five years together, we had our issues like everyone else. But in the worst of times, our powerful friendship and the way we fit together carried us through everything. When he died, I knew that kind of steady backup and trust through anything was over for me. A part of me has been deeply immersed in myself with the years of our bond still helping me navigate my new daily life. But I’ve recognized that his steady  presence in my life lent me the ability to be patient and understanding out there in the big world. After all the juggling of my younger days, trying to negotiate the relationships of people around me, I no longer have the impetus to absorb the parts of others that don’t satisfy who I am and how I feel. I am a different version of myself.

I am more than ever likely to withdraw now to my go-to place, internal pool that existed before Michael, that was still in me when he was here, and that is now where I feel my only true fit. He was always sensitive to my departures whereas others had no clue that I was actually totally detached and absent from whatever was happening in front of me. Much of my external behavior is performance. I am lurking below the surface because I truly don’t believe that most people want to be a part of me in the ways that work best for me. They like my parts that work best for them. Some think that having family and good friends is enough to breach the gap I created to process hard times long ago. My experience tells me otherwise. So I’m trying to find ways to survive this life with myself as my only anchor. I still have the strength of what existed in that magical way between Michael and me. I have skills. I’m strong. But I’m tired too. And holding on to what was isn’t an easy thing to do every day. I’m thinking about what I’ve taught myself to try to stay balanced while struggling.

I remember the day of my dad’s funeral. A September morning 30 years ago,  cool and sunny. I was driving by Mt. Hope cemetery to the bakery to pick up cakes and pastries that family and friends would share at my mom’s place after a graveside service. As I drove along, feeling surreal, I found myself thinking what I’d thought so many times before and so many times since. Out there in the world, while I’m engulfed in grief or whatever other feelings of the moment, people are running. They’re playing sports or going for walks. They’re sleeping, making love, birthing babies, dying, crying, working, hiding and virtually any other verb you may want to insert here. Living their lives, dying their deaths, feeling their feels. You have no idea what those outside appearances are concealing. Sometimes they don’t know either. All over the world, life and death go on, and no matter how important your own particular event feels, there is always someone else’s that’s worse. That’s one of my most successful go-to strategies for coping with life, realistic thinking. Sometimes I can make a small event feel like it may have long-range positive consequences to help myself cope with staying balanced.

I was working out in my garden in late August. School was back in session and my house is on a pathway home for lots of kids who come rushing by at the end of their day. Two middle school-aged boys were riding their bikes down the street when the smaller one of the two screeched on his brakes and careened over to the sidewalk in front of my house yelling, “dude, you have to see this giant flower!” He’d spied one of my massive hydrangeas and was knocked out by it. I smiled and said, “pretty cool, right? I think you guys are very special for paying attention to nature. Lots of kids wouldn’t have noticed.” They smiled and rode away. I saw them in a different place about two weeks later and recognized them. I said, “hey, aren’t you those smart guys who stopped to look at my garden?” They looked surprised but pleased. Yesterday, I was out again and they were going by the house, dressed in pajamas for what I surmised was a special day at school. I hadn’t noticed them but the small one said hi and waved as he went by. I hope what I said to them and my presence during their time going up and back to school will stick with them, both in regard to the nature stuff and in the fact that an old lady can be someone worth engaging. I draw energy from stuff like that.

As my dive goes further, I find I’m trying to work things out in my dreams. I don’t know a lot about how the subconscious functions but in recent days I’ve dreamed that Michael was just outside, mowing the lawn. Then I dreamed that though I knew he was dead, I also knew part of him was alive and living with another family. So I went to retrieve him. As I approached where he lived, he appeared, looking wonderful and accompanied by our beloved collie Flash who looked like he did at six months old. That dream woke me from the sheer joy of it. I also dreamed of my dear friend Julie who’s in hospice now. I had driven back to her home for a second visit and she answered the door looking healthy, feeling stronger, and again I felt relief and delight. My sleeping mind is swimming with with these images which are wishes and small comforts compared to reality. I don’t pretend to get it but the days following these nighttime interludes start better than the ones that have no evening respite from reality. And then there are my daydreams usually brought on my music or activities that remind me of old times or a surprise photo that can elicit powerful surges of desire and ache.

While preparing a sizable family meal which I’d done so often in the past, my day was infused with essence of Michael, to the point when I stopped to write him this letter: Dear Michael,

I’ve spent the day chopping and mixing and cooking all the food that goes along with preparing for company and a festive holiday meal. So that means you are huge in both your absence and your presence. I wish I could talk to you about what this feels like and have you answer me in real time. Maybe you are. The other day I realized that I hadn’t seen monarchs in a few days so I made a note for my records that they’d departed for the year. When I peeked out into the back yard this morning, the white butterfly bush was alive with them in addition to the painted ladies and the sulphurs that are still hanging around. That bush is smack in the middle of what was your tomato garden and I’m not kidding, that shrub is massive and still producing new blooms that I’ve coaxed along by diligent deadheading. But the ground is full of your sweat and love and I don’t give a flying fuck about how mystical and bizarre it all seems – I know you’re in there. One day we both will be because when I finally become ash and am rejoined with yours I want the kids to dump at least part of us there. Part amongst my flowers too and the rest? Apparently we’ll become some piece of glass art, showing up as silvery streaks in the middle of our colors which you know will be red and black. Maybe a little green for depth but definitely our political colors. In any case, when the monarchs were there this morning, was I wrong to feel you’d sent a few back my way? But no more. Those guys need to get out of Dodge because it’s getting chilly. Thanks, though. So back to the kitchen. It’s about a thousand degrees in there and I’m at the sink, cleaning carrots and you come in and I say, “man, I’m really hot,” and you say, “you’re telling me.” That same old line which I pretend I don’t like but of course I love it. Then you come up behind me and grab some random body part and move suggestively and I say, “go on, you perverse old man, get out of here so I can finish up.” I smirk and make some wisecrack but I adore the familiar intimacy. And then you stick your finger into a bowl for a taste and I tell you it’s unsanitary and you laugh and drift into the living room. You have the day off when I’m cooking because you do so much of it in daily life. But you don’t get a pass on the cleanup. I shimmer through these daydreams like an apparition with you and they cloak me in a happiness that’s so transient and ephemeral. I’d love to catch up with a wavelength in time where we are solid and physical instead of the myth we’ve become. My precious boy.

So there that is. I am away for large swaths of time in this watery internal cave because I don’t like a lot of what’s going on in reality. As I slide through my days in real time, I remembered when I read The English Patient back in the early ‘90’s. It was one of those rare films that wasn’t a disappointment to me as so many films based on books can be. Sweeping, beautiful, romantic, passionate and ultimately sad.

  I’ve been taking a class on Persia and Greece and there has been mention of Herodotus and his histories. In the movie, a tragic plane crash in the Egyptian desert leaves the wounded heroine in need of medical attention. Her lover carries into a cave where the walls are filled with petroglyphs that include swimmers. As he leaves her with food and water, he also gives her his copy of Herodotus, a “good read” as she awaits his return with aid. That’s how I feel now, swimming in a my interior cave with a good read for company hidden away from the rest of the world. Wondering when I’ll come to the surface.

    Withdrawn in the Depths  I know that the deepest part of the ocean is the Marianas trench. I learned from a brilliant scientist who taught a class called Emergence of Life that water in the takes up between 50-70% of a human body.