#i wrote this in two days and significantly hurt myself in the process

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #bakugo x reader #HSJAHSJAHSAJ i hope yall like this T____T #i wrote this in two days and significantly hurt myself in the process #i love and hate angst

[armageddonouttahere]

Consolation

Title: Consolation

Summary: Takes place after “Putting Others First”, in which Roman sinks into his room and doesn’t leave for a while. Logan is the only one not preoccupied enough to come and lure him out, but in this he has to face emotions he’s been putting on the backburner for a long time.

Pairings: Romantic Logince, background platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Crying, self-doubt, insecurity, negative thinking

Rating: General Audiences

Genres: Fluff, Hurt/comfort (with a happy ending)

Word count: 2,500

A/N:  Here we are, at last! I had cranked out the last couple paragraphs of this fic just an hour ago, and I’m very excited. This had gone from a little Logince comfort drabble to a fic of 2,500 words (exactly, though I didn’t do that on purpose). I hope anyone who sees this enjoys it, and everyone who’s been waiting for it likes it even more, after all this suspense. Taglist will be at the end, under the cut.

________________________________________________________________

Logan was at a loss. The aftermath of Janus’ name reveal left all the sides shaken and fragile. Especially Roman. Logan wanted to help, he wanted to be able to tell Roman with certainty that he will be okay, that everything will be alright. Logan needed to be able to look Roman in the eyes and know that the words that came out of his mouth are truths.

But he can’t. So, Logan focused on the problems he could solve. He endeavoured to keep Thomas in working order, though on the inside he may be struggling. Virgil seemed to have taken a backseat, focused on watching over Patton. The most he’d seen of the anxious side was weekly updates and reports on Patton’s condition, how he was feeling, which Logan appreciated greatly. He needed all the positive data he could get.

As the logical side, Logan was somewhat attuned with the other sides’ reasoning and thought process. He needed this information to be accurate in order to know how Thomas works, how he functions. He knew how the other sides try to solve problems, how they understand things. When something or someone throws a wrench in the system it’s one of the few things that affected Logan physically.

In the aftermath after Roman sank out Logan had migraines for weeks. Roman’s flawed logic- his flawed perception of himself- is the one thing that has caused Logan the most physical pain. Roman’s view of himself shifted so drastically to the negative end that Logan felt… sorry? For him? 

He felt… he- he felt. Roman made him feel. What did he feel, exactly? Empathy? It was true that Roman’s emotional pain gave Logan physical pain, but the shared anguish went further than that. Logan knew what it’s like to feel wrong, to feel unheard. He related to Roman. He knew what he’s going through. 

Their opinions may differ, but Roman still needed consolation. Logan won’t further his belief that Janus is the villain, but Roman doesn’t need a scolding or a lecture, skewed though his viewpoint of Janus may be. He needed someone to listen to him, someone to comfort him.

Logan was aware that he’s no optimal candidate for the matter, not the first choice for consolation (nor the second). He does not possess the endless cuddles and comfort food of Patton, nor does he have the quiet understanding and listening ears of Virgil. His only way of reassuring the prince is through data, probabilities, and chances. Inadequate. Unsatisfactory. Definitely not enough.

Logan made a plan. A plan to make Roman feel better. A plan to get Roman to open his door, something he hadn’t done in two weeks. He gathered things he believed he would need in order to cheer Roman up: the Sherlock screenplay Roman had gifted him at Christmastime, Logan’s book of Shakespeare’s plays (Hamlet being pre-marked with a red sticky-note, in case Roman is feeling increasingly dramatic and macabre), his journal for note-taking, vocab cards, and his laptop- which has a playlist compilation full of ‘cute’ animal videos at the ready. All of this was needed for Logan to get up the courage to knock on Roman’s door. He felt as if he’s putting on an armour of sorts. Preparing himself for battle. 

It’s quite funny- the logical side needs bravery and courage to step outside his area of expertise and comfort the prince of the group.

May 17th, 2020. 1830 hours. Attempt #1: Prologue.

Roman has not left his corner of the mindscape for 16 days, 6 hours, and 28 minutes. Virgil has just given an update on Patton’s condition, which is thus: Patton’s “room” has slightly lessened in its intensity of upsetting emotions. The picture frames’ rate of showing unfavourable memories has decreased. Patton has not cried yet today. The Dark Sides, Remus and Janus, seem to be keeping on the “down-low”. Thomas has not had any intrusive dreams in many days. Virgil has been too preoccupied in keeping tabs on Patton to give him anxiety over much.  Thomas’ motivation has gone down. His restlessness has gone up. Roman’s unconscious contributions to Thomas’ everyday life have gone down significantly. Thomas has stopped daydreaming. He has stopped thinking about the future, what he has to do tomorrow. He is becoming forgetful and apathetic.  As the logical side, there is only so much I can do to keep Thomas in working order without help from the others, that much I can admit. I have put off trying to help Roman in case things only become worse, but the stakes are too high at this point. Action must be taken. I will record the results of this 1st attempt later.

Logan steeled himself, books tucked under his arm. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Around nine at night, he wrote down the results. Roman had been unresponsive to polite requests for entry, knocking, attempts to start a conversation, small-talk, even a referencing desire to build a snowman. He had not responded to propositions of reading from plays or poetry, or any of his favourite literature. In summary, it was almost like speaking to a “brick-wall” (almost, because the door to Roman’s room was made of mahogany).

“Really? Things must be bad,” was Virgil’s response as Logan recounted the events to him later that evening. It was late, almost time for Logan to get some shut-eye after organizing Thomas’ duties for tomorrow. Logan had entered the kitchen hoping that Thomas would get a good night’s sleep so he could have the highest level of productivity the next day, but judging by the Monster Energy drink resting in Virgil’s hands he supposed that was not the case.

“It is certainly concerning. I tried… if not everything, at least a substantial amount of options.”

“Yeah, and if Roman doesn’t answer to a Disney reference… I’m worried about him. Do you want... me to try?” he said, fidgeting. Logan realized he looked uncomfortable with the idea. Virgil must felt a little guilty for not showing up at all during the argument.

“No, I believe that more attempts should be made. To wear him down, in a way. I’m planning to try again tomorrow.”

“Same Bat Time, same Bat Place?”

“An interesting way of putting it, but that’s the idea.” Logan rubbed his eyes and began making a list of all his tasks once he returned to his room.

“Alright. I’m gonna go see Thomas.” Virgil said, getting ready to sink out.

“I assumed you were. And Virgil?”

He popped back up. “Yeah?”

“Please at least try to motivate him a bit, if through fear? I don’t want to deal with a gloomy, unproductive Thomas tomorrow.”

“You got it. I won’t screw him up too much. ‘Night, Lo.”

“Good-night, Virgil.” He was alone.

“Roman?” Logan knocked once more. “Roman, would you be open to company? I wish to speak with you.”

Nothing. He sighed, pushing his journal farther into his pants pocket. He decided to come with substantially less things this time around. To come as he is.

“I’m not entertaining visitors or guests at the present. Please come back another time, thank you,” came a weak and muffled response.

The sound of Roman’s voice gave Logan an ache in his heart which he didn’t want to name. He ignored it, for the moment.

“I just want to speak with you. You’ve been decidedly quiet these past few weeks. Your input, both in-person and in Thomas’ subconscious has dropped a considerable amount. As far as I am aware you have not made your presence known to me or any of the other sides in over two weeks.”

Silence was his response. Facts were getting Logan nowhere. Logan sighed, struggling with himself. Did he tell Roman what he thought in simple terms, what he was trying to say through his data? How could he bare himself to Roman’s listening ears, let himself be known?

“In all honesty, Roman, I’m- I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m worried about you.” He said this in a rush, letting it all out in one breath. Like a Band-aid, as Virgil had stated. The silence that still followed both frightened him and spurred him on.

“Roman, I- I haven’t spoken to you in weeks. I’m afraid of what will happen if you stay isolated for much longer. You’re a necessary part of Thomas’ life, for me to have things to maintain and keep in order. But more than that, more than duties of mine, I mis- I’m… finding your absence upsetting.”

Logan faintly realised his hands had begun to shake, and he clenched them.

“You… mean a lot to m- the Mindscape, to Patton, to Virgil… to everyone. No one means you harm. We need your input on discussions, and revel in your ideas and thoughts. We... miss you.”

Just gotta rip it off.

“I- I miss you, Roman.” Logan shut his eyes, forcing out the idea that he had become emotional enough to begin producing tears. Logic does not cry. “We bicker sometimes and both of us are wrong on occasion, but I would rather have arguments with you than nothing without.”

“Seeing your vibrance and excitement in brainstorming, your happiness in Disney movies and romances, watching your brilliance when creating plays and stories and… being you, I- I find myself… swept up- metaphorically, of course- in every emotion you give off when you’re around me. Seeing you productive and happy gives me more of a reason to work to the best of my ability.”

“It’s… it would be difficult for me to ever say these things in the hearing of the other sides, but… I miss the feelings you bring me when you are around. It is something greater than a job well done, Crofters, or puzzles and murder mysteries being solved.”

“The emotions I feel when you are around are something more than a simple pleasure in watching, in the aesthetical enjoyment of seeing things fall into place. When I’m with you, I feel… spurred into action.”

“Roman, I- I can’t… I can’t bear your absence any longer. I’m worried about you, but more than that, I’m worried that should you keep to yourself, I’ll never… I- I won’t…” Logan swept aside a few tears that had run down his face. His throat ached so much that he feared he wouldn’t be able to get any more words out. The words he spoke next came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Without you I’m afraid I’ll never feel anything again.”

A shuddered gasp tore itself from Logan’s throat as he took his first proper breath in a few minutes. Tears slicked their way down his face freely now. This was, Logan supposed, because such a long drought of emotion had rendered him virtually unable to control any that did overcome him.

“However,” Logan began once more after a few more minutes of silence, his voice quieter now. If anyone else had heard it, they might have said he sounded ashamed. “Should you wish to remain alone for… whatever period of time, I won’t stop you. Asking you to open your door for my sake is extremely selfish of me. I’m… I’m sorry, Roman.”

Logan took one more breath before turning around to leave. He had no idea what the effects of his speech would be, and that scared him. He was in an entirely new territory. This was an unprecedented event, with no similar experiences to compare it to. He had ‘boldly gone where no man had gone before’, so to say.

Logan was so wrapped in his own panic, for that is what it was, he almost missed the imperceptible click of Roman’s door opening as he walked away. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed, and he prepared for angry words and scathing insults. Logan would face it, however. He turned around, and was met with a sight for some very sore eyes.

Roman held open his door an infinitesimal amount, peering through the crack. Through the small open space Logan could see the prince out of his usual outfit, the beautiful swath of his hair, and one very tearful eye. Logan opened his mouth without knowing what would come out, but the air was knocked out of him.

Roman flung the door open wide and his socked feet ate up the steps between them as he flung his arms around Logan, the force of his embrace almost tipping Logan over. An embarrassing ‘oof’ escaped him at the impact and his hands went up to grip the back of Roman’s jumper after only a second of hesitation.

Logan’s mind filled incredibly fast with all sorts of information: the scent of Roman’s hair, the warmth of his body, how Roman buried his head in Logan’s neck and the slight wetness that came from tears. The way Roman’s nose jutted into his neck, the almost imperceptible touch of Roman’s lips on his shirt collar. Logan’s body betrayed him in an audible catch of his breath as Roman clung to him harder.

“Roman, I-” Logan began in a faint whisper, but Roman only shushed him and tightened his grip, rocking them from side to side ever so slightly.

They stayed like that for Galileo knows how long when the prince peeled himself from Logan. Roman looked upon Logan with eyes so bright from unshed tears Logan would have believed there were stars in them.

“You never said anything. Not a word.”

Their conversation was as hushed as could be, the Mindscape and the world beyond it ceasing to exist and zooming in on the two of them, in this moment.

“I’m not good with words. When it comes to talking about feelings, I mean. You know this.”

“Don’t lie, Specs. That was one of the most eloquent and beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

Logan scrambled to find a breath within him as Roman smiled up at him. For one of the few times in his life, he found himself with nothing to say.

“It was moving, and heartfelt-” Roman continued, taking Logan’s hand and stepping back, towards his room. He paused in his motions and looked at Logan once more.

“-and it was incredibly romantic.” He said softly.

“I’m- I’m glad.” came Logan’s strangled reply. Roman smiled at him again and led him into his room. There they would sit and talk for hours, and Logan would hold Roman to his chest. They would confess to things bothering them and their hopes, dreams, and fears for the future. It would grow late, and Logan would give in and begin to card his hands through Roman’s hair as the prince drifted off to sleep.

There, in the black-blue of the sky of Roman’s window, scattered with stars and the slanting rays of the moon, Logan would look down upon the prince’s sleeping head and realize, though he had first doubted his abilities, he had been enough. Enough for Roman and for himself. He had been enough.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@count-woe-laf @psychedelicships

#franklin writes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thomas sanders sanders sides #ts sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #logince #logince fanfiction #logan x roman #logic x princey #logic x prince #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfiction

[theartofimaginaryfriends]

Hello! May I have a reader/percy fic where Reader is bisexual but is scared to come out to Percy? It can be either romantic or platonic, but I'd like their ages to be between 10-15 if thats possible? Reader's pronouns are she/her, and hurt/comfort, please!

Acceptance

Premise: Y/N is scared to come out to her brother, Percy.

Content Warnings: biphobia, homophobia

Masterlist

A/N: Shoutout to that really basic title! I promise the fic is better than that XD I’m currently on vacation in Jasper (we drove, I live five hours away, and there hasn’t been a single case in the resort we’re staying at so don’t @ me on this), so I managed to find the time to write since this is literally just a relax and do nothing type of vacation. So it’s kind of stated in the fic, but this takes place in The Titan’s Curse, and the reader is a year younger than Percy (so like 12???). As well, I decided on making the reader his little sister because I haven’t done a sibling fic before and thought it would fit. Hope you enjoy :)

Y/N's mortal family already hated her for being a demigod. When she found the courage to come out as bisexual to them, they wrote it off. Not that she expected much, but Y/N didn't think she'd get written off as a lesbian when she began dating a girl. They were even worse about that, ultimately causing Y/N to become a year rounder at Camp Half-Blood.  

The school year was lonely, being the only member of the Poseidon cabin. She wished her brothers were there to distract her from her anxiety, and to comfort her when she couldn't sleep. The rest of the campers were kind to her, but it wasn't the same. Percy and Tyson were the two she trusted the most.  

That being said, Y/N couldn't find herself able to come out to Percy. When he arrived at camp during winter break, she immediately felt nervous when she saw him. He was upset that Annabeth was captured, and no one seemed to take it as seriously as he did. Y/N felt as though this wasn't a good time to say anything to him, especially because she wasn't prepared for the possible biphobia from her brother.  

It kept her up nearly every night for the whole break. She Iris Messaged Tyson to come out to him, who was accepting once she explained to him what it meant, but she was still scared to come out to Percy. Especially with her knowing this young, she wasn’t sure how he'd react to that. Y/N wasn't prepared to hear "it's just a phase" by someone she deeply admired and loved.

When Percy came back, her insomnia worsened. It had gotten to the point where she couldn't find a comfortable position in bed and kept tossing and turning hopelessly. It wasn't until she started crying from frustration one night that Percy got out of his bed and sat on the edge of her own. "What's wrong?"  

"It's nothing," she shifted so she faced away from her brother.  

"You haven't slept in days, Y/N," he said, keeping his voice even. "From what I know, not even an impending war can keep you lying awake all night multiple nights in a row."  

"It's about my mortal family." She explained, too tired to fight with him. "It's bad enough they hate me for being a demigod."

"What did they do?" Percy's jaw tightened. Y/N stayed silent, clutching the comforter tightly. She wasn't sure what to say, or even how to word it. Percy was stubborn, and Y/N knew that he wouldn't leave her alone until she talked to him about everything.  

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, hoping that it would help ease whatever anxieties she felt. Percy was worried about his sister, and he hated seeing her this upset. One thing he knew was that he had to wait for her talk because she wouldn't speak to him for days if he pushed her to open up.  

Y/N took a shaky breath before sitting up to face her brother, and before she knew it she was recalling everything that happened in the past few months. She skirted around her sexuality, not wanting to get into that at one in the morning. Unfortunately for Y/N, Percy could tell she wasn't telling him the full story. Some things didn't add up.  

He had a good guess of what she left out and asked her to be sure. "Y/N, are you bi?"

She nodded as tears streamed down her face. Percy held her close as she let out all the bottled up emotions, terrified to look at him in the eye. Because it was so late, she didn't process Percy trying to comfort her as she cried. All Y/N could think was that Percy hated her and that he wished she wasn't his sibling. That she must be one or the other, and can't like both genders.  

To her surprise, his reaction was the exact opposite. Once the tears stopped, she finally realized the hug he wrapped her in and pulled away to look at him in the face. His sea-green eyes glowed in the moonlight that streamed through the windows, and they were filled with empathy. "Wait... you don't hate me?"

"No one chooses who they love," Percy told her. "I'm bi, too. I know how scary it is to come out. I was extremely worried about my Mom not accepting me but when I finally had the courage to say something, she told me it didn't matter."

"She's pretty smart," Y/N let out a relieved laugh, wiping the tears from her face.  

"Yeah, she is," Percy smiled. "And hey, if anyone gives you flack for being bisexual, they’ll have to answer to me."  

"I can take care of myself." Y/N grumbled.  

"Yes, and?" He laughed at his sister. "Aren't big siblings supposed to protect the younger ones no matter what?"

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes. Y/N yawned involuntarily and flopped back onto her bed so she was laying down. Suddenly she felt significantly more comfortable and nestled into the sheets. "Go back to bed, we'll talk more in the morning."

"Goodnight, Y/N," Percy stood up and got back into his bunk. "I love you."

"You're okay."  

#percy jackson #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #percy jackson & sister!reader #pjo #percy jackson fanfiction

[pluckyredhead]

Director's commentary on It wouldn't be make believe? 🥺 Thanks I love your writing

Aw, thank you! This is a long fic so I’m gonna skim it and bullet some thoughts, let’s see:

Mxyzpills - I’m still so pleased with myself about this one. At the risk of over-explaining the joke, the “ninety-day high” is a reference to how when Superman banishes Mxyzptlk back to his dimension, he can’t return for ninety days. It’s also an insanely long time to be high for, why would anyone take this drug.

“He wasn’t naive—they could simply be sneaking upstairs to paw at each other.“ - I find Damian’s voice fairly easy to write in but this is a good example of where I struggled to find a balance between his very formal, disdainful word choices and not making him sound like a computer. I tried “fornicate” and “have intercourse” (lol) before I landed on “paw at each other,” which leans more on the “Damian is contemptuous of other people’s desires” side of things (as opposed to “Damian has never met another human but has read about them in books”).

The little knit cap on the TP in the frat bathroom makes me laugh so hard. Yes, I know I wrote it. If I can’t laugh at my own jokes, who will?

One of my guiding principles when writing Damian is that he’s really, really smart, but the problem is that he knows it, which means that he assumes that any idea he has is by default going to be intelligent. This allows him to do really stupid things like go undercover at a university attended by his best friend, who has super hearing and X-ray vision, and assume said friend won’t notice he’s there. Bless his heart.

“Please. I would never wear a shirt with this low of a thread count by choice.” - lololol

WAYNE GRAYSON god I’m a riot

I really wanted to convey a sense that Jon is very big and smells very good and has no sense of personal boundaries whatsoever, at least with Damian. Damian uses his body very well as a weapon but is otherwise completely disconnected from it, and Jon’s presence is a very physical one, and Damian has no idea what to do with that.

Love writing me some jealous Damian, especially because neither of them realize that’s what’s happening here. He only wants Jon to be friends with him! For reasons!!!

For some reason, Jon laughed at that. - It was important to me that Jon not come across as stupid in this. He’s puppyish and sweet, but he’s extremely bright and significantly more emotionally intelligent than Damian.

I think the fic is as long as it needs to be but I kind of wish I’d expanded on the idea that Jon is friends with everyone on campus and at least half of them have crushes on him.

Lian absolutely sent Jon the picture of him and Damian on the beach because she knew Jon had a crush on Damian. They’ve definitely talked about it.

“If I were your classmate, I’d be more curious about your apparently immortal dog.” - KRYPTO WILL NEVER DIE!!!

Damian’s insistence on paying for everything is basically a gesture of ownership, or chivalry if you want to be nice about it. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Jon being secretly in love with Damian from practically the start of their friendship is firm head canon for me, I believe in it with all of my being.

“Jon probably shouldn’t find Damian more endearing the ruder he got, but, well, here he was.“ - Jon is wildly entertained by Damian being an asshole, which is lucky for him because that particular behavioral tic isn’t going anywhere. Another thing I really wanted to make clear was that Jon sees Damian for exactly who he is - prickly and cranky and arrogant and stubborn - and loves him for all of it.

“I assume you’ve been texting each other positive affirmations when I’m not looking.” - I want to be part of the Kent family group text! So many heart emojis, so many photos of outer space.

“The Big Apricot” - is 100% a canon nickname for Metropolis and it makes me so happy.

Jon’s eyes are canonically blue but fuck that, I gave him Lois’s violet eyes because a) she deserves to have some of her genes replicated too and b) the more of a beautiful anime prince I can make Jon, the better.

Damian trying not to look at Jon because he is TOO SEXY is everything to me, I am so delighted by my own story.

Also firm head canon to me: Jon’s hair only ever falls into two categories, somewhat messy and very messy.

Damian removed his arm from Jon’s trim waist, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. - I didn’t do a lot with it here but part of why Damian is so deeply repressed about his feelings for Jon is because of the age difference - he feels guilty being attracted to Jon, even though the difference between 19 and 22 is much less significant than, say, 12 and 15. I think Damian already has a lot of shame and guilt hardwired into him re: bodily pleasures - thanks, both of his parents! - and Jon’s age just makes it worse.

The scene where Damian wakes up from a nightmare and almost stabs a practically naked Jon was one of the reasons I wrote the fic. 😈 One of Damian’s greatest fears is hurting his loved ones and he really can’t do that to Jon, at least not by accident. Also Jon is not the slightest bit afraid of him.

Relatedly, Damian has never been safe or secure a day in his life, but Jon represents absolute safety. Damian is 100% not ready to process his feelings about that or even admit that he might like to be able to let his guard down for a little while.

Aw yeah, that good good part of the fake dating where they’re both uncomfortable because they want it to be real dating and are picking up on the other’s discomfort and totally misreading it. Love that shit.

Damian: “If I have to kiss Jon again to save our lives, I will do it. I will fall on that sword. It’s a sacrifice, but one I’m willing to make.” ok bro

"Frat Chat” lololol

JON’S PARENTS ARE BOTH INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISTS, DAMIAN, HE CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE LYING

Is this how parademons work? Who knows? Who cares? My apologies to Jack Kirby, if they are necessary.

As you will know if you’ve read...anything I’ve ever written, “character’s loved one is hurt so they go fucking feral” is MY FAVORITE THING, which is why there’s a twofer here. And Damian goes feral so well.

Also my favorite thing: the sweet one asking the feral one to spare the bad guy’s life. Ahhhh this fic is so self-indulgent and I’m not even sorry.

I wanted both Jon and Damian to be right about Chazz - he was involved, but not willingly. Their partnership works not because Damian is The Smart One or Jon is The Good One, but because they balance each other out - trust and cynicism, evidence and faith.

Damian totally kissed Jon better. ;)

Damian: “Oh, I’m in love with you? Wait, I need to analyze every thought and feeling I’ve ever had in light of this new information, give me a minute.”

And Jon teases him about it because teasing Damian is his absolute favorite thing to do. <333

IN CONCLUSION, THESE BABIES ARE IN LOVE AND I’M SO HAPPY ABOUT IT.

#i write things #super sons #superboy #jon kent #robin #damian wayne #Anonymous

[luciddeparture]

Is Meditation for Morons?

I’m can’t exactly recall the first time I decided to meditate. I just know what happened when I finally bothered to learn how to. It has since had a profound effect on my life. 

Now I know what you are probably thinking… “Meditation? I don’t need any of that woo woo crap in my life.” That’s at least how I used to feel about it, but who knows? Maybe you are a little bit less cynical than I was. 

It is somewhat ironic that I am now the one who is writing a blog on meditation and its benefits.

When I first heard about meditation I immediately dismissed it, until I rediscovered it about two years ago whilst listening to a podcast called The Tim Ferris Show. The podcast is a series of interviews where Tim Ferris interviews top performers in a variety of fields from all around the world. Surprisingly, over “80% of the people [he] interviews have some form of meditation practice”. That’s a significant percentage! I’m by no means insinuating that we all need to be world-class performers, but I feel that it could not hurt to learn from those who are achieving high levels of success. Especially when there is an easily identifiable common trait, which in this case is meditation. 

It slowly became clearer and clearer to me that meditation might be less bullshit than I had originally anticipated. 

Before we get into things, it is important to acknowledge that although meditation is now becoming increasingly commercialised and “trendy” in Western Cultures, meditation has been a huge component of many spiritual practices for many hundreds of years. In the East, meditation played a huge role in particular in both Hinduism and Buddhism. The earliest records of Meditation can be found in the Vedas, a religious text written in Sanskrit in 500bc.  After reading the Vedas the Buddha added his own spin too, developing his own technique called Satipatthana, which is now most commonly known as Mindfulness. The direct translation is Sati (Attention) or (Remember) + Upa (Inside) + Thana (to keep) So Satipatthana means: To keep your attention inside. 

Transcendental Meditation was introduced to the West in part by the popular culture of the 1960’s. A notable contribution was The Beatles sharing their experiences after visiting India. Although Mindfulness meditation was introduced much later to Western Cultures. Throughout this article I will primarily be discussing the effects of Mindfulness Meditation.

Over the last few years, the process of meditation, as well as its effects, has become a rapidly expanding subfield of neurological research. One of the most interesting experiments involved scientists conducting tests on a Monk, finding that although he was 41 he had the brain of a 33 year old. They gave him an FMRI scan while asking him to cultivate a sense of compassion by meditating, and the neural activity in his empathy circuits grew by 700-800%!  One of the researches later wrote “Such an extreme increase befuddles science.” 

When most of us anticipate getting burned our pain receptors act as though we are already suffering. So much so that when the pain actually comes nothing really changes. Once the physical stimulus stops the mental pain slowly subsides. Expert meditators act much less in anticipation of the pain and feel the pain more intensely while the stimulus is present. Their awareness of the pain ceases immediately as soon as the stimulus is removed.  

Interestingly enough, the emotional centre for  the brain, the Amygdala, acts in a similar fashion to the pain response. Meditators are often much better at responding in anticipation to emotional stress.

I’m someone who has always lived predominately inside their thoughts, probably leaning on the more erratic side. The thought of being able to sit in silence sorta freaked me out, not to mention seeming borderline impossible.

To understand what my mind looks like, you need to look no further than The Simpsons. Remember that scene where Homer is listening to Marge and inside his brain a monkey is clanging symbols? That’s the relationship I had with my brain almost all of the time. I believe this is the same for most of us. 

Let’s put this to the test. You, my lucky reader, can be the test subject of a little experiment on your own psyche. For the next minute, I want you to close your eyes and just do your best to focus solely on your breath. 3…2..1. GO! 

How did you go? Did you get lost in your thoughts? Did you forget entirely that you were even trying to focus at all? Where did your mind take you? Your relationship (or lack of)? Work? Or maybe even what you might have for dinner?

I found that when I first began meditating my mind would sometimes find itself distracted on the most obscure things. The reason why I am illustrating this point is because often when I speak to others who have tried meditation for the first time, I hear “I tried meditation, and it’s not for me - I just think too much”. I hate to say it, but these are the people who probably should be learning to meditate most of all. 

The way I see meditation, is similar to closing background apps on your phone. It saves battery, and it just makes your phone faster. No brainer. I believe the same is true with meditation and giving your brain a break from constantly thinking. 

A lot of the people who are reading this article will have grown up with internet access. Therefore,  you have been bombarded with external stimuli in each and every moment. Bzzz, Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzzz. I’m sure that most of you will have received a messages even whilst reading this article.

Our brains have been over stimulated and are in a constant state of overdrive. Even when we are asleep our brains are constantly thinking, even if it is in the form of dreams! Obviously that isn’t a negative on it’s own, in fact sleep is crucial for the brain. But when you add everything up it’s a lot for a brain that has only been subject to this much stimuli for around 15 years - the first iPhone only came out 13 years ago. 

As you discovered just before, learning to “not think” doesn’t happen instantly. Like you, when I first attempted to sit in silence and tried to focus on my breath it did not work. My monkey mind remained supreme. Once again I was convinced that it wasn’t for me. But like all skills, meditation takes time and discipline to both learn, and improve. 

I’m not saying this to deter you, it’s just the truth. An easy comparison might be to say that you wanted to learn how to play a musical instrument. It would be ridiculous to expect that you would be able to play your favourite song after your first time attempting to pick up the instrument. The same logic can be applied to meditation. It takes time, practice and discipline - however unlike musical instruments, you bring your mind to all situations in life. In my opinion, sharpening your ability to think is well worth the investment. According to scientific studies Mindfulness meditation induces big changes in the minds of experts, but when beginners first meditate not much happens.

At its core, the aim of meditation is to become more present in each moment by focusing and training attention and awareness. This is to achieve a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state. This in turn gives you the ability to have significantly more control of how you react to external and internal stimuli when they arise in your life.

In Mindfulness meditation, the goal is to act as an observer whilst focusing on your breath, watching your conscious experience as thoughts and sensations arise and disappear. 

As mentioned earlier we are often multi tasking, with tech and external stimuli, but even whilst we are not, we remain deep in thought. We are often living in the past or in the future through memory rather than in each and every moment.  

Meditation helps you learn how to not be constantly reactive to stimuli on the inside or outside. When I meditate, I find that it simply quiets my mind. It’s a simple reset of the brain allowing me to slow down and focus solely on the present. 

Another way of looking at it is that meditation is like going to the gym. You can see it as a way of working out your mind. To begin with your mind will wander, time traveling from the past to the future. But with practice you can slowly train your mind to become more present.

Being present throughout the day allows me to consciously make better decisions, rather than just remaining on autopilot. 

As hedge fund billionaire Ray Dalio puts it “When you're centred, your emotions are not hijacking you”. “Meditation is 'the single most important reason for my success.”

If you are looking to start meditation, Mindfulness meditation apps are a great way to initially learn how to meditate. I still find myself using one most days. Having tried all of them, I would recommend Sam Harris’ Waking Up app. Its thirty day training course is clear and concise and an awesome starting point to learn how to meditate. After that, new daily meditations appear on the app. Harris is a Neuroscientist and an Atheist and breaks meditation down in a way that is less spiritual which might make more sense to a western audience. 

Worried it’s going to cost too much? If you can’t afford a subscription, you can email the help section and receive a one year free subscription. No questions asked. You have no excuse not to try it! 

Other Mindfulness app alternatives are: 

- Headspace - Andy Puddicombe

- Smiling Mind (An Australian non-profit alternative)

For further learning check out these guys:

Sam Harris, Mooji, Ram Dass and Andy Puddicombe

I am by no means an expert in this field, I just wanted to share something which has improved the quality of my life by at least 10%. I hope that it works for you too! 

#meditation #mindfullness #wakeup #samharris #mooji #ramdass #headspace

[rather-impertinent]

To Build A Home

A/N: This is a little something I wrote based on the promo for this week’s episode. This is my first Grey’s fic so I hope it isn’t too terrible! If anyone has any requests please let me know 🥰

“Jo, stop pacing,” Alex said gently.

Jo continued to pace on the wooden floor, seemingly having not heard him, anxiously chewing on the sleeve of her thick cardigan.

“Jo...”

“I can’t stop pacing!” she hissed. Jo quickly regretted her tone and sighed, coming over to sit beside Alex on their couch. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “What if she doesn’t remember us, Alex?” she asked in a small, quiet voice after a few moments had gone by.

“Well, she’s not gonna remember us,” Alex pointed out matter-of-factly. When Jo looked at him with a round mouth and sad eyes, Alex chuckled and wrapped his arm around her, rubbing it in comfort. “Jo, you’re a surgeon, you know babies don’t usually recognise faces until they’re about 2 months old. Last time we saw Evelyn she was 3 days old and some really bad people left her at a fire station. In a couple weeks she’ll be a year old, and we get to celebrate that with her. We’re actually pretty lucky, you know, adoption can take years, so 11 months is not too bad.”

“‘Not too bad’?!” Jo repeated incredulously, looking at her husband. “Waiting has been hell!”

“Yeah, but in the grand scheme of things we’re pretty lucky.” Jo was right, though: the waiting had been hell. Their cell phones were on loud speaker at night not in case of having to respond to any incoming traumas, but in case they received a phone call from the adoption agency. It was hard to believe the waiting would be over by the end of the day. “So, did we decide if we’re gonna go with Eve, Evie, Eva, Ellie or Ella?” Alex asked, trying to lighten the mood. He fidgeted impatiently with the soft ears of the rabbit plushie he’d bought for Evelyn seven months ago, during the first of two false-starts.

Alex’s jest elicited a laugh from Jo, though they were indeed still undecided as to what shorthand they’d use for Evelyn. “No, we didn’t,” she said, still chuckling, “we’ll get a better feel of that when we hold her.” Jo glanced around the fully baby-proofed living room and noted the unopened toy box with a sense of trepidation. How the hell was she going to be a good mom? She’d never even had a decent version of one in her entire life. Maybe that was a start: knowing how not to treat a child.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” Alex told Jo, as though reading her mind. He gently nuzzled his nose against her cheek in hopes of easing the anxiety that was radiating off her.

Just then, the doorbell rang and echoed loudly throughout their new home. Both Jo and Alex felt as though they’d had a bucket of ice water thrown over them as they involuntarily leapt to their feet.

They turned to each other and Jo’s let out a shaky, nervous breath. “How’s my hair?” she fretted, combing her fingers through her loose curls. She wanted to look friendly and motherly but calm and professional at the same time.

“You look perfect,” Alex assured her. “How’s my shirt?” He fidgeted with the already closed buttons.

Jo ran her hand over the pale blue button-up and gently straightened the collar. “Looks great; wrinkle-free.”

“Okay,” Alex said, exhaling in relief. “Let’s do this.” He held out his hand to Jo, who accepted it gladly. He’d always be her anchor in a storm.

On the surface, Alex looked the definition of cool, calm and collected, but Jo could tell by the damp warmth of his palm and the way he gripped her hand that he was just as apprehensive as she was.

“Hey,” Jo said gently as they came face-to-face with the front door - with their future. Alex’s brows knitted together as he looked at her. “I love you.”

A small smile tugged on the corners of Alex’s lips. “Love you,” he murmured back before leaning in to kiss her gently, already feeling more relaxed. He reached for the doorknob. “You ready?”

Jo inhaled and exhaled. “Ready,” she affirmed as Alex peeled open the front door.

“I come bearing gifts,” Allison McLean, the social worker responsible for Evelyn’s welfare, greeted excitedly in a sing-song as she bounced the baby in her arms.

Over the last few months, Jo and Alex had gotten to know Allison really well, and it was nice that she had always rooted for them.

Despite the vote of confidence, the process of adoption had been a long and stressful one, mainly because of stupid mistakes in their pasts and Jo’s name change complicating matters slightly, but all their worry melted away as soon as their baby smiled at them.

She leaned forward and away from Allison towards Jo - as though she recognised her.

Stretching out her arms and taking her gently, Jo felt a strange but powerful wave of love wash over her as Evelyn’s eyes stared straight into her own. “Hi Evie,” Jo whispered as she bounced the infant before taking her chubby little hand and kissing it. “I’m your mom.” Jo found herself grinning as she announced it out loud for the first time. “You’re safe with us now, sweetie. I promise, I - we - will never let anyone hurt you, okay?” A single tear trickled down Jo’s cheek: she would have given anything to hear those words from a parent figure. But it heartened her to be in the position where she could speak those words to someone else; it had come full circle, and the pain could stop here.

Alex drew swirling circles on Jo’s back to comfort her, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He kissed her temple for reassurance. “Mm okay, my turn,” he announced after a moment, holding out his hands in eager anticipation.

Jo shot him a doe-eyed, Bambi pout. “But I’m not done yet,” she clucked, smooshing Evie’s smooth cheek against her own.

The sight before him took Alex’s breath away and he lost his train of thought. “Shut up,” he eventually said, significantly gentler than he’d intended. “Don’t hog her, she likely won’t even talk to me from the age of eleven through to twenty, so it’s only fair I get some time in now before she hates me,” Alex argued logically, not knowing that the child looking at him with big, round blue eyes would never hate him even when she tried.

With a small sigh, Jo conceded his point and carefully handed off Evie, warmth pooling in her stomach as she watched how natural Alex was with babies. “Hey princess,” he greeted softly, gently waving her hand so she could get used to . “I’m your dad,” Alex informed her, narrowly avoiding bursting with the pride of it. Evie babbled something nonsensical in response. “Yeah, I know, it sucks but I promise we’re better than a cardboard box at a fire station,” he joked, to which even the adoption agent had to smother a smile.

“Much better,” Jo emphasised, kissing her rosy cheek. She then began to stroke it as Alex continued to hold their baby. “I promise I’ll learn how to cook just so that we can all eat at the table like a proper family, like the ones you see in lifetime movies.” Jo’s tone was almost dream-like.

Alex chuckled. “Lifetime movies suck, Evie, but not as much as your mom’s cooking.” Jo lightly nudged him in protest. “On thanksgiving and Christmas, we’ll go to your aunt Meredith’s and she’ll have someone there who’ll know how to cook a turkey. Or we’ll go visit my mom, your grandma, or she can come here, we haven’t really figured it all out yet. But anyway, get excited, because we eat a lot of pizza here. With vegetables, of course,” Alex added as an afterthought for Allison’s sake.

Jo chuckled and fondly rolled her eyes at her husband.

All of the adults were relieved and pleased to see how placated Evie was in her new surroundings, which would be her forever home.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Jo’s eyebrow raised competitively as she thought of an idea. She grabbed Evie’s free hand to gain her attention and wagered to her husband, “Hey, I bet you ten bucks I can make her smile more than you can.”

Alex scoffed, “Pfft, are you kidding? I’m a peds surgeon, I make kids smile for a living. Mom’s pay me ten grand to make their kids smile.”

“Great, then you’ll definitely be able to hand over that ten dollar bill when you lose,” Jo gloated, already making faces at Evie, who looked between her new parents questioningly, as if unsure whether they were really fighting or not.

“Oh, it’s on, Karev. Better fluff up the sofa cushions for when I kick your ass at this,” Alex bragged, his self-assurance at an all-time high. This was his game, and the touchdown was in sight.

Simultaneously, they launched into the Olympics of pulling stupid faces, each unwilling to be outdone by the other, the aching facial muscles were no deterrent.

Unfortunately for them, Evie seemed much more interested in the stuffed bunny that was waiting patiently for her on the couch than her crazy parents’ attempts to make her laugh and smile.

“Oh, you wanna meet bunny?” Jo cooed at her, having followed her curious gaze to the couch. “Your dad picked her out just for you.”

“Why don’t I give you a moment to show Evie around the house and then we’ll have one last look over the papers?” Allison offered as she examined that Evelyn was more than safe in the arms of the two strangers who were already smitten by her very existence. “I think I’ll grab myself a coffee from that place round the corner. Can I get you two anything?”

Jo and Alex continued battling to see who would get offered a wider smile from baby Evelyn and almost didn’t hear Allison’s question. “Oh, no, thank you,” Alex said warmly as he was yanked out of what felt like a daydream. Jo continued to pull silly faces at Evie, who gurgled in contentment at all the loving attention she was receiving. A look passed between Jo and Alex. “We have everything we need right here.”

#jolex #jolex fanfiction #alex karev #jo karev #grey’s anatomy

[justanotherdeadgirlwalking]

That is Just the Saddest F**king Thing I Have Ever Heard.

TW obviously DEH is about a kid’s suicide, so it has those themes

other parts :)

Part Five. 

Art doesn’t just happen. It’s a process. You need a muse, an inspiration, something that lights a spark in your brain. Inspiration is everywhere. I’m surrounded constantly by beautiful bodies, beautiful faces. Sometimes you walk down the street and see how perfectly someone’s shoulders meet their slender neck, and the image burns into your mind. You want to see it in front of you again, but you can’t because that would require stalking the person to find them, and that’s super fucking creepy. So, you settle for the next best thing, you draw it. You sketch it over and over again until you get it right, and suddenly that woman is in front of you again. I prefer to draw people, because then you never run out of ideas. Faces are so unique; each body is different. There’s billions of people in the world, each one just waiting to be captured; I never run out of ideas. Eyes are like two little galaxies right in the center of the asteroid that is your face.

Putting together a portfolio has been a lot harder than I’d expected. I thought I’d just through my favorite drawings in a folder and call it a day. The only problem is, I hate literally everything I have ever drawn. Mom has always told me that my drawing look like photographs. That’s complete bullshit because you can see fingerprint smudges, and you can tell that one eye is significantly better than the other, and the noses look like shit. I literally want to redo every piece.

I’m not being one of those people that says their work is shit because they’re fishing for compliments, I know they’re good. I’ve been featured in district art shows, and I’ve won awards. And I’m not trying to sound like a cocky asshole either. Art is just the one thing in my life I have complete and total control over, and trust me, I took control. I can choose how it looks, I can make it as perfect, or imperfect as I want it. I had to beg my parents for the best pencils and canvas to use. I figured, I didn’t take music lessons or dance lessons like Zoe did, you guys can buy me some quality supplies. They didn’t want to waste money on the stuff if I wasn’t going to use it. As a child I tried a lot of sports and hated them. When I was ten, I joined the swim team. I practiced every day, for hours. I even talked Zoe into training with me, I made her time me, and yell at me in an angry German accent when I wasn’t making time. Then, after probably hundreds of hours of training, I decided that I didn’t like swimming before I even had the chance to compete. I guess they didn’t want me to do the same thing with art. Mom finally took me to an art store, like a real art store, when I proved to her I was serious about it. It was like going to Disney world. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of was right there in front of me. There was a wall of colored pencils. There were pencils in every color I could think of, and then some, colors I never even seen before. I stood there in awe. It was a game changer to use real colored pencils, not Crayola’s. Larry was so mad, he didn’t understand how art supplies could be so expensive. Well, I don’t understand why someone would spend $100 on a dozen golf balls either, so I guess we’re even.

Since I couldn’t realistically redo every piece of art I’ve ever made, I decided I would just use every piece that my art teacher loved and draw one new piece. It seemed like a good compromise. Miss Schmitt was the only person I really trust with anything. She’s always pushed me to keep going, not to give up on a piece and see it through. She didn’t teach me how to draw, you can’t teach talent, but she always motivated me.

I really needed her motivation now. There was one person I really wanted to draw, but I seemed to have a mental block on what they looked like. Miss Schmitt told me to use a reference picture, but I didn’t want anyone to know who I was drawing. It would make me look psycho, and people finally stopped thinking I was a freak.  I couldn’t bring myself to draw his face, so I drew his body. I drew his New Balance sneakers and his mal fitting khakis. I spent hours trying to replicate the crease down the front of his pants just right. I even made a special trip to the art store to make sure I found the right shades of blue for his stupid stripped shirt. I got an off-white colored pencil so I could shade his cast just right. Evan’s arm may not be broken anymore, but when I think of him, I think of him in his cast, just after I signed it. When everything was still really real and made sense.

I’ve become obsessed with him. How could I not be, he was my one and only friend. Except, that wasn’t true, and he used me for a better life. I really wanted nothing to do with him, but at the same time I wanted to know everything about him. It didn’t help that he was always around.

There was a knock on my door. “Come in” I called, snapping my sketchbook shut. I looked up to see Evan in my room, behind him, Zoe was peering in, almost hiding. “What’s up” I asked them, annoyed. Evan stands there for a second, looking down and playing with his fingers. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Um, me and Zoe want to talk to you” he spits out in a nervous stutter. I motion for them to come in. Zoe comes in and sits on my bed, not looking at me. Evan stands still for another moment before pulling the door shut and sitting on the ground where he stood. Everyone is silent for a moment, avoiding eye contact. I cough loudly to end the awkwardness.

“What did you guys want to talk about?” I ask.

Its Zoe that answers, softly, her voice breaking, “I want answers,” she says. Well kid, that makes two of us. “Why did you try to kill yourself.”

I feel like I was kicked in the chest. I don’t really have an explanation as to why. I just did. It was impulsive, seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. I wasn’t suicidal, and I wasn’t depressed beyond my normal gloom and doom. I just did it because I felt like it. I wasn’t feeling helpless or worthless, just bored. Except, I can’t tell her that. “Connor?” she asks. I just stare at her, hoping she will drop it. She meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow. She looks so sad, so broken. I must have really hurt her.

“I don’t want to talk about it” I say.

She sighs and balls her fists and taps them against her legs. She didn’t like that answer. I get it. I’d want to know too, I guess. Except, there’s nothing to know. Except, I wasn’t as important to her as she is to me.

“In the emails you wrote to Evan,” she starts. Oh, great the fake emails, “you were doing so well. Please you don’t need to tell me everything, but I just want to know what happened”

“I said I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” I snap.

Evan coughs, bringing attention to himself. I forgot he was here for a second. He looks nervous, really nervous. I don’t blame him, I could blow up his whole life right now with the truth. “Maybe he needs more time Zoe” he says. I give him a dirty look.

Zoe slams her hand against the bed, “You’ve had months,” she yells, “How much more time do you need. How do you go from climbing trees with Evan to killing yourself in a park?”

“Zoe,” Evan says, “you remember what you read, you don’t want to trigger him.” Trigger me? Okay Evan, you just don’t want me to tell the truth. Evan stands and opens the door, motioning for Zoe to leave. She looks at me again, pleading me with her eyes, then gets up and leaves. Evan lingers for a moment, watching her walk down the hall to her room. He steps back in and slams the door.

“We need to talk f-for real,” He says.

“Oh, for sure” I say, standing up and covering the distance between us until I’m towering over him, “Let’s talk about how you’re taking advantage of my entire fucking family.”

He’s beet red. “I’m not” he says, looking at the floor.

“Hey buddy, we’re not friends, we never were friends, and we’re probably never going to be friends.” I say

“Wh-why not?” he whispers.

“News flash,” I yell, “the first and only time I ever talked to you was when I signed your cast remember? You lied to everyone, and you’re a shitty liar.”

Evan is silent, he’s staring at the ground and pulling at his fingers. I watch him as he scratches his neck, pulls his ear, shifts his weight. I’ve thought Evan and I were the same; neither of us had friends because we were outcasts so to speak. He was just socially awkward, whereas I was the school freak. But I could tell he felt the same stuff I felt. The same wish that someone would notice us, that we were both on the outside, always looking in. Maybe if things were different we would be friends. I tried reaching out to him, but he was too self-absorbed with his own issues to notice me. And now, I am somehow engulfed in his issues. He took my suicide and made it about him. He lied to my parents and Zoe and the whole world. Evan Hansen was a nobody, a barely in the background kind of guy, and now his basically an internet celebrity. And me? People still don’t care about me, but at least they’re nice to me now.

I think that’s why I’m so angry about the whole situation. He got what he always wanted, he got his dreams come true. He got a taste of a perfect life, so he did what he had to do. But it ends now. I hope it was fun and he had a blast while he dragged me along.

“Did you read the emails?” Evan finally asks. I read them. He wrote a story of a perfect friendship. Friends that quote their favorite bands and tells jokes nobody understands except us two, and there’s nothing that we can’t discus, like girls we wish would notice us but never do. He even included me encouraging him to go after my sister. The fucking creep.

“Dear Evan Hansen,” I say, “You either tell Zoe and my parents the truth, or I will.” I open my door and shove him out of my room, “Sincerely, me.

#deh #dear evan hansen #DEH fanfic #deh fandom #Dear evan hansen fanfic #dear connor murphy #connor murphy #evan hansen #zoe murphy #mike fiast #ben platt #fanfict #tree bros #musicals

[argylemnwrites]

We Need to Talk

Relationships: Drake Walker & King Liam (friendship); Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Book 2, Chapter 17)

Word Count: ~2200

Rating: PG (brief adult language)

Summary: After Riley rejected Liam’s proposal in NYC, Drake and Liam have some things to discuss upon their return to Cordonia.

Author’s Note: Hey, I wrote something that isn’t canon divergent! I can only fathom that Drake and MC didn’t sleep together in the hotel in New York if Drake was planning to talk to Liam first to clear the air before he took that step with her.

I’ve included tags for people who are on my tag list not just for Drake, but also who are tagged for It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment. If you would prefer to only be tagged for that series and not Drake fics that are TRR canon compliant, let me know, and I will happily adjust my tag lists!

Drake nearly dropped his phone as he checked the time. 15:27. Letting out a shaky sigh, he shoved the phone in his back pocket. He needed to calm himself down. His mouth was dry, his palms were clammy, and he was sure if anyone were to pass by, they would hear his heart pounding. Luckily, no one really came to this part of the palace unintentionally. As he paced the hallway in front of the closed door, he checked his phone for the time again. 15:28. He let out a loud sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. He needed to get a grip.

This had to happen today. Hell, he should have done this weeks, maybe even months ago. Trying some deep breaths, he dropped to the bench next to the door, but couldn’t suppress the fidget in his leg. He couldn’t have been seated for more than ten seconds when the door opened. Drake sprung to his feet, but only Bastien walked out of the office. He raised his eyebrows and nodded in greeting, but stopped himself as he took in Drake’s appearance. “God, Drake. You look like hell.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know I’m here if you need something.”

“I just gotta talk to Liam. Thanks for getting me this meeting.”

Bastien nodded. “What the hell is this about, Drake?”

Drake just shook his head and resumed his repetitive path, pacing across from the door, but Bastien stepped in front of him, interrupting his rhythm. “Is this about Lady Riley?” he asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Drake’s head shot up, and his eyes locked on Bastien’s. “What do you know?”

Before Bastien could respond, the office door opened once again. Both men turned toward the sound, taking in Liam standing in the doorway. “Come on in, Drake.”

Bastien clasped Drake’s shoulder as Drake swallowed and turned toward the office. Once inside, Liam closed the door and turned to Drake expectantly. However, Drake couldn’t seem to form any words and just stared back at Liam with wide eyes. After a moment, Liam spoke, “You’re the one who wanted this meeting. I think I know what this is about, but I don’t want to presume.”

“You do know… what this is about, I mean. I didn’t really think this through past knowing I needed to talk to you.”

Liam chuckled, “Sit down; I’ll get us some drinks. I think we both might need one.”

Liam turned and opened the bottom drawer of his desk pulling out his bottle of Highland Park whiskey and two glasses. As he added ice to one of them, Drake sat in one of the leather arm chairs across from the desk. He would usually sit on one of the couches, but having a barrier between them felt appropriate today. Not that Liam would punch him or anything. If he did, maybe Drake wouldn’t feel like such a colossal piece of shit. But the couches felt like they were meant for better times than whatever this was about to be.

Liam sat in his chair and passed Drake the whiskey on the rocks, locking eyes with Drake as he did so. It was time. “So, I know that you, er… spoke to Liu.”

“If by spoke to, you mean proposed to and was rejected, then yes.”

“Liam, I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you two tell me?”

“We should have, I know. I don’t know when, but obviously a while ago. I’m sorry. I never thought you would get hurt, though.”

“How could I have been anything but hurt, Drake? I’m sure you know that she was my pick at the Coronation Ball. And not to make things too uncomfortable here, but I believe my… actions made my intentions fairly clear to Lady Riley.”

Drake sighed, “I never thought she would… I mean, look at you and…I’m just.” Taking a deep breath, he started again, “I assumed the only one who would be hurt was me. Obviously, she was going to choose to be with you once you were free.”

Liam frowned and took a sip of his drink. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Don’t make me spell it out for you.” Liam just continued to stare at Drake. “Fine, over the years, how many women do you think have flirted with me in an attempt to get close to royalty? Because I’m guessing not many women have used you to find an in with me.”

“Riley’s not some crown chaser, Drake. If she was, I don’t think either of us would be here.”

“I know, I know, but it just felt too familiar. I mean, one moment she was kissing me goodbye at the Coronation Ball, and then next thing I knew she was talking about us dating and actually being together after you got engaged to Madeleine. It just seemed like I was some sort of consolation prize.”

Liam’s eyes had widened significantly during Drake’s fumbling speech. “Wait, this has been going on since my Coronation?”

“Er, I’m not sure exactly when this started.”

Liam shook his head with a slight chuckle, “Heh, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Look, I’m not trying to be sneaky or... coy or anything. You deserve honesty, I get that. It’s just kinda hard to pinpoint when things changed. I was attracted to her right away, but I did everything I could to keep my distance at first. I was downright cruel to her, actually. But somewhere along the way, I don’t know, she just cut through all my bullshit. Maybe it was in Lythikos when we got tipsy in the wine cellar after days of Olivia being a complete bitch to both of us. Maybe it was my birthday when she actually seemed to understand me. Maybe it was when she insisted on making sure I was okay after Tariq and I got into it, but suddenly we were friends who were attracted to each other, and then…”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up as Drake trailed off. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped and let out a sigh, “It’s probably best if I don’t know, isn’t it?”

“Oh no! Not that, I mean, we haven’t…”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.”

“Man, this is awkward.”

Liam laughed, “Well, it was bound to be. Hence the whiskey in the middle of the afternoon.” The two shared a genuine smile as they each took a sip.

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I kind of embraced our, I guess you would call, er, flirtation? after the whole Tariq scandal and Madeleine engagement. I guess I figured if I could be a distraction or a comfort or whatever, I dunno, it might’ve made things easier for her. Once it all blew over, I just assumed she would go back to you. It seemed like the best solution for everyone.”

“Drake…”

“Okay fine, I was tired of fighting it, okay? She was alone and hurting and I couldn’t be another person who rejected her, particularly since I didn’t even want to stop things. I figured it would hurt when she got back together with you anyway, so I might as well enjoy the ride. It wasn’t until New York that I had any idea she might want, well me, as anything serious.”  

Drake paused, looking at his friend, trying to gauge where he stood, but Liam maintained his stoic mask. Drake wasn’t used to seeing that face when it was just the two of them. A casualty of his actions, he supposed. After a moment, Liam spoke slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully, “Obviously, her rejection was painful. However, the fact that the two of you, particularly you, didn’t feel you could trust me with your feelings, well that hurts more.” Drake dropped his eyes to his glass, unsure of how to respond, but Liam wasn’t finished. “I valued how honest you always were with me, Drake, and now that is called into question. Did you keep this from me to protect me or to protect yourself?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You told me that you were sure that whatever you and Lady Riley had was temporary. Did you mean to keep your relationship a secret so that I could live in a naïve bubble were Riley was always 100% invested in our relationship, or was it because vocalizing your love would make it real and you would have to face that fact, even if she left you?”

Drake swallowed, taking a moment to collect himself. “A little bit of the first, a whole lot of the second. I tried to tell myself it was better for you to not know, but mostly, I was trying to keep some semblance of distance. I failed, obviously.”

“Rather spectacularly, in fact. I noticed that you didn’t object to my use of the word ‘love’ in my question.”

Though Liam’s words were heavy, Drake heard no judgement in them. He looked back at Liam, staring straight at him as he responded, “And?”

“Fair enough. Obviously, I wish you two nothing but happiness. How could I begrudge you that? You are two of the people I care most about in this world.”  

“Liam, I swear I tried to shut it down over and over again. But she just saw through my excuses and called me out on them time after time. I just couldn’t-”

Liam raised his hand, cutting off Drake’s continued ramblings. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, believe it or not, hearing how, shall we say actively Lady Riley pursued you is not incredibly soothing.”

Drake grimaced at that. His goal wasn’t to cause Liam more pain, but he felt that he couldn’t let that assumption stand. He wasn’t going to let the fault fall to her. “It’s not that she pursued me. She befriended me. I think it was just nice for her to have someone to talk to that wasn’t a stuck-up noble at first. Everything after that just kind of happened.”

Processing Drake’s statement, Liam took another sip of his whiskey. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Drake Walker essentially told me that he was fated to be with a woman.”

“What? That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“Isn’t it? Everything you’ve described about how you feel for each other implies this element of destiny, that it was somehow out of both of your control.”

“Come on, Liam. You know I don’t believe in soulmates or any of that crap.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Drake opened his mouth to argue, but he realized that Liam sort of had a point. His feelings for Riley had felt largely out of his control. Like some overwhelming force that he was powerless to stop. Like he was addicted to her. He wasn’t sure if he would call it fate or destiny or anything like that, but it sure felt more inevitable than anything he’d ever experienced before.

“I will take your silence as confirmation of my wisdom,” Liam teased, drawing Drake out of his own thoughts.

“Come on, Liam. I-”

“Don’t worry; your sentimentality need not leave this room. But I would hope, given the circumstances, you wouldn’t begrudge me some teasing?”

It was a peace offering. A truce. A clear message that Liam was going to work to put this behind them. Drake knew it was more than he deserved, so he responded the only way he could, “Like anything would have stopped you from teasing me. Come on, let’s hear it. Get it out of your system.”

Liam laughed, “Oh no, I’m saving my teasing for the right moment. It’s just not satisfying when you’re expecting it.”

The two men shared a genuine smile, finishing off their whiskeys. And while the silence still carried some tension, the air certainly felt clearer than it had 30 minutes earlier.

“Are we okay?” asked Drake, finally voicing his biggest concern.

Liam nodded, “We will be. It might take me some time to adjust, but you’re a brother to me. After everything, it would take more than this to damage us.”

“Thank you, Liam. For what it’s worth, I am sorry for how this all went down.”

“But not that it happened?”

Drake bit his lip, slowly shaking his head. He couldn’t lie. “I could never regret her.”

Liam nodded sadly, “I understand. I’ll see you tonight at the beer garden, I’m assuming?”

“Of course.”

And with that, both men rose. Liam walked Drake to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he exited the office.

“I am happy for you. I may feel a lot of things right now, but that’s the most important one.”

Drake felt his words get caught in his throat at that, but before he could even attempt to give an appropriate response, his phone started vibrating. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw the name.

“It’s Savannah.”

“Go ahead. I have another meeting soon, anyway.”

As cheesy as it sounded, Drake really did feel as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he swiped his phone to answer the call. He wasn’t sure what the future held for him and Riley, but knowing that Liam would still be in his life was plenty for today.

Tags: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenofcronuts @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @carabeth @feartheendlesssummer @jovialyouthmusic

#drake walker #drake x mc #king liam #trr liam #drake & liam #the royal romance #trr #choices trr #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices

[eabhaalynn]

So you want to be a doctor...

Congratulations on even thinking about this career path! It is undoubtedly a noble one, and one which will be very rewarding. You probably love science, you probably already work super hard at school, and you’ve probably got your own personal motivation that I will never properly understand. All of these are admirable, and I know I was in your position not too long ago.

Over the next few years, and probably over the last number of years, you will have some life experiences that will be truly incredible. These experiences will be inextricably linked to your career choice, and you should be so grateful to have them. My own volunteering in my community, with the FRIENDS group, is probably the most formative experience of my life. It is definitely what inspired me most to be a doctor, and I miss it to this day. More recently, I have got to see incredible doctors at work, both in the UK and US. They are such incredible communicators, saving and changing lives every single day – I am overwhelmed with gratitude and I don’t doubt that these experiences will change your life for the better.

But today, we have to be realistic, so here is the rest of what the last three (give or take) years have taught me about trying to be a doctor…

You almost certainly can do it.

I did my GCSEs at a school where not many people do medicine, and the ones who do are the ‘geniuses’ who don’t know what anything short of an A* looks like. You should all know that I am not one of these geniuses, at all. In fact, I barely remember what an A* looks like. So, as you may expect, when I announced my career plans to my fifth-year careers teacher, she told me that I ‘wasn’t academic enough’ for medicine and would never get to the interview stage of the process, so I’d be better off trying something else. My predicted GCSE grades were fairly unremarkable; 2A* 6A 2B. However, I am far too stubborn to listen to any career’s teacher, so I did try. I tried far too hard and did unexpectedly well at GCSE. Two years on, I am in a fairly similar academic dilemma; but this time I have a firmly accepted offer to study medicine. It’s all about progress. So, what I’m really trying to say is that if I can get a medicine offer, you can too. And please don’t listen to careers advisors who try to tell you otherwise.

Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

It’s almost exam season, and you’re going to work so hard and do so well, whatever stage you’re at. After exam time is summer time, and that’s when you’ll have time to have a really good think about what you’re getting yourself into, and why. (I know and fully understand I am only an upper 6thand have no right to talk about medicine as a degree or career – just the application).

Using my own personal experiences, here is what the application process was like for me…

SCHOOLS

Yes, this is a bizarre one. But essentially, I changed schools for medicine. I was THAT committed to the cause. And I promise the application process will still leave you feeling like you want to study anything but medicine.

Personally, I wasn’t too torn up about leaving, but it can be a really big deal. Certain courses require certain A Levels – and for the courses I wanted to apply to I really couldn’t have stayed. This isn’t make-or-break stuff, but it’s not something I gave much thought to until it was almost too late.

GCSEs

These are important exams. Most medical schools will either rank them standalone or on a point system before they interview you. You should definitely study. These are also probably the last exams you’ll sit at school where your hard work is almost guaranteed to pay off – so you’re better off putting in the work now. Better GCSEs would have made my sixth form experience infinitely easier, and worse ones could have made it far more difficult. They are not, however, an ultimatum. They do not define you or your ability to be a doctor.

VOLUNTEERING AND WORK EXPERIENCE

If you’re volunteering to get into medicine you’re doing it wrong. But volunteering for the good of your community and for the good of others, even for the sheer experience of it, is probably one of the greatest things you can ever do. Start as early as you can, and put in all the hours you can, while you can. Some experiences won’t be brilliant, but they’ll be worth it (and some medical schools need it.)

As I mentioned earlier, work experience is incredible, but it can be difficult to organise. Start contacting doctors and healthcare professionals you know as soon as you can. They were very accommodating to me – they’ve all been where we are. It can also be quite consuming, while my friends were making big money in retail, or with their talents (sailing and music namely) I was making tea in hospitals, unpaid. Again, this isn’t a big deal at all, it’s just not something I would ever have considered.

OPEN DAYS

Medicine isn’t the kind of vocation that you can decide to just stay at home to study. You need to accept that if you live in Northern Ireland, ¾ of your choices will not be in Northern Ireland. I am a wee bit apprehensive and so I spent a great deal of my sixth form experience travelling up and down the country, visiting all sorts of medical schools I was thinking about applying to. This has clear financial implications, and I completely understand that it is not accessible for everyone. It’s definitely not a necessity, but its something I’m really glad I did.

Not all medicine courses are the same, not all cities are the same. You’ll be spending five or six years of your life at these Universities, so you’re better to do your research on them rather than wasting a space on your application.

AS LEVELS

Lower Sixth was the hardest year of my school career. I was in a new school (which I love), studying new subjects (which I love), and yet I was really struggling. All of the medical schools I was applying to specified 4 AS levels in their entry requirements – so it was never going to be a fun year. Looking back, I don’t know how I did it. It was far more to handle than upper sixth has been. Study subjects you love, and just accept now that you will quickly stop loving them – especially chemistry. Try to balance a personal life too, because that only gets more difficult with time. In Lower Sixth, I was in a relationship, kept up my volunteering, and even had a job until Christmas. Your academic attainment will probably not be what it was previously, but that’s okay, it will come in time. Surround yourself with all the support you can, get a library membership and use it. Buy textbooks and get a tutor if you need to – again I know this has its financial implications. And please know that you will survive the year.

UKCAT

This is where the shit really hit the fan for me. It will make your A levels look like P5 English. My school were fairly supportive, and even then, I was still left largely to my own devices. I sat mine fairly early, and I’m so glad I did, because it really does have the potential to ruin your summer. Allow a solid three weeks to cram, there are brilliant resources online, and some books available. Again, if your financial situation allows, there is an amazing course that Kaplan run every weekend through the summer and it boosted my score significantly.

There is also the BMAT that certain universities require, I didn’t sit this myself but it’s supposed to be more academic based than the UKCAT. It’s also sat on a single date in October, by which stage you have already applied, and know your UKCAT score and how it sits compared with the average. I wasn’t willing to take the risk and didn’t like the uncertainty, but it is entirely personal choice.

PERSONAL STATEMENT

Do yourself a favour and write this in June. I am a firm believer that lower sixth exams finish early for a 4000-character long reason. I am one of the lucky ones and wrote my personal statement in one draft. There aren’t many people in my position, and I am well aware of how many people were so fed up and drained by this following AS Levels. But it’s so much easier to handle then than it ever could be in September. It’s also not nearly as long as you think it’s going to be – and that just makes everything harder.

UCAS

I sent away my UCAS application on Monday, 10thSeptember 2018. By that Thursday, I had received my first offer to study Genetics at Glasgow. Without meaning to sound arrogant, I could probably have got five non-medicine offers back within the week. But applying to medicine was a completely different ball game. My final ‘UCAS Application Status Notification’ email came on Wednesday 3rdApril 2019. Just a week short of seven months later. It was a rejection from a medical school. My third rejection.

Those UCAS emails give you the sort of fear that isn’t really comparable to anything else. The feeling of being rejected from a University who has met you, spoken to you, and marked your personality as unworthy, seems very personal. It does hurt, but no more than any fall out or heartbreak would. It just hurts differently because it’s a whole institution that has rejected you. This isn’t pleasant, but it is a reality for the majority of applicants and offer holders. So, if it does happen to you, just know you’re not alone.

INTERVIEW

I was very naïve going into the interview stage. Of my four choices, I had three interviews, within three consecutive weeks. I have one offer. Two of the interview processes were friendly, and they were manageable. The third was a truly awful experience. Thus, I think it’s fair to say that the interview process is variable. All of my interviews were in January, right in the rush of A Level work, I even had my attendance reported because of them. MMIs themselves can be fun, especially with relatively supportive examiners. But there is so much preparation required for a medicine MMI and the reality is that you can place in the top 20% of one University and the bottom 20% of another with very similar interviews. They take their toll on you, and are physically exhausted, between travelling, early mornings and the workload of the preparation. It is also, I believe, fair to say, that it can be quite emotionally destructive to have your personality scored and analysed in such a manner.

A LEVELS

Only when applying to medicine do a-levels feel like an after-thought. At this stage, I feel like I have been put through the ringer by this application, and to even get an offer has been more than I ever thought I was capable of. But you do need the 3As, in some of the hardest subjects and exams that boards can write. Its easy enough to forget that, but it is an immense amount of pressure, and it is still my present.

So you want to be a doctor…

I am so grateful to have got this far with my medicine application, and I do genuinely hope I get to study it in September.

There is so little accessible information regarding the details of the process and how to approach it without losing your head over it. I don’t think anyone has cracked it yet, and if they have I wish they’d write a post about it instead of this one.

Ultimately, you have to take care of yourself first. It’s what your doctor would tell you to do. You are more important than any and every stage of this process, and your own mental and physical health should come before every career choice you make. I hope to see you on the ward someday! But even more than that, I hope you get to be everything you aspire to be, whether you decide medicine is for you or not.

[lorieninksong]

My Journey through PTSD

A more thorough explanation.  I wrote this for Deviantart and wanted to share it here, too.

Warning: The following includes descriptions of abuse against animals, children, hospital patients and suicide mentions.  If this is not safe for you to read please turn back now or skip to the TL;DR section.

 For the first time in a long time I am confident that I'm going to survive and recover from my PTSD.  I'm out of the suicide risk zone, and though my body is still struggling it's no longer life threatening.  Every day I still hurt but its significantly less, and I'm hoping with more recovery time and work I'll be able to not hurt at all one day.  As it turns out the reason my complex PTSD (info: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Complex_… ) was so severe is that I've actually had it for ~20 years.  I grew up in an abusive household, and was essentially raised to believe I was worthless.  My father employed tactics of fear (stomping around the house, shouting at us, insulting us, and even abusing my pets on rare occasion) and my mother groomed me to be her, expressing derision when I tried to be anything different.  She also once threw a vase or bouquet at my head (I can't remember which) as a toddler.  The abuse of one of my parakeets by my father, though she thankfully didn't receive injury, lead into years of nightmares about my birds being hurt in a similar manner.  These were my first PTSD symptoms.  All of these things I was told were my fault, and I deserved it.  I didn't.  No child could.   By the time I was diagnosed I had already been partially mauled by the medical system.  I was prescribed medications based on what was in patent (so more money could be made from me) even though they were less understood and significantly less safe.  My first psych med prescription landed me in the ER twice in 12 hours.  The first time I was dismissed as someone seeking drugs, despite not having any record criminal or otherwise.  When I came back in they had to test me for heart damage.  Things didn't improve with a diagnosis; it took two years and three psychiatrists to start any kind of appropriate treatment.  My first psychiatrist didn't do any kind of evaluation, handed me a list of drugs to chose from, and then abandoned me and all of his other patients with no warning or instruction.  The next psychiatrist I found was obsessed with his own methods, scorning mainstream 'modern' medicine for an endless trial of quackery, lifestyle changes, and medications that did little to help me or caused harm.  He also would have my spouse, who is not medically trained, research and present medications to him for me to try.  This is part of how I ended up in the ER several times over this last winter.     And let me tell you, the ER is an unkind place to the mentally ill.  Also to people with chronic pain issues, and to anyone who happens to have a uterus or identifies as female.  (I'm not a transwoman but I've heard plenty about how the medical industry treats them, not to mention women of color.)  When I tried to kill myself by jumping off a bridge (I was stopped before I jumped) last summer I was taken by ambulance to an ER.  I came in crying, terrified, and having one hell of a panic attack.  Their response was to treat me like a violent criminal.  The staff got aggressive quickly as I cried in a corner of the room I was escorted to, and forced me under threat of being forcibly stripped by a group of strangers (including armed men) to surrender most of my clothing in lieu of scrubs.  Because "You could be hiding a bomb in there".  That is what I was told by a nurse.  They then trapped me in that room for the next twelve hours, and refused to treat the extreme physical pain that came from the physical symptoms of my PTSD.  Additionally they took all of the medicine I had with me so I couldn't take care of myself, and someone helped themselves to some of my pills before they were returned.   This was certainly the most egregious example of abuse I endured in various hospitals and clinics, but it was hardly an isolated incident.  To make matters worse when the hospital I was going to couldn't find an easy explanation for the the severe pain I was experiencing after a few tests they just dumped me back out onto the street.  Even after I was kept overnight for observation hooked up with a special heart monitor because my pulse was high and irregular.  My current psychiatrist (who used to be a manager at a Providence hospital) is still concerned about my heart, and I may need to see a cardiologist.  Even though I still was struggling to eat or sleep, and was still in agony.  I have learned not to go to the hospital unless I think I may die.  It's not worth it otherwise.   Having to fight the medical system alongside the PTSD (and my insurance company constantly harassing me) was bad enough, but I also had to fight my family and friends.  I received very little support from them, regardless of how close we were or how I had supported them in the past.  And reaching out to them was an exercise in frustration at best.  No one wanted to listen.  And recently I found out a couple of family members/friends had labeled my PTSD and related issues as 'drama'.  That they 'didn't have time for'.  These were the same family members that when I wrote about how I was abused at the ER on my blog called me to tell me to delete the post.  If that wasn't bad enough I recently found out that part of their motivation was a belief that I was lying, just exaggerating and being 'dramatic' about what happened.  I'm baffled.  I'm not a dishonest person.  Worst of all nobody asked if I was okay.  After that I stopped expressing myself even online, and became extremely socially isolated.  Trying to reach out to people or express myself was too stressful.  Outside of healthcare providers I didn't see anyone outside of my spouse and his parents, and only had one remaining friend (an online pen-pal) to talk to.   This journal is not a call to action.  I'm explaining what happened to me as a way of striking out at the voice inside of me, formed from the years of abuse, that tells me I deserve this abuse.  Because I didn't deserve this.  No one deserves this.   No child deserves to be blamed for the decisions their parents made for them.  No child deserves being raised by parents who made their resentment known to them about the financial burden of their upbringing.  No child should come to feel guilty for the crime of being born, a miracle of survival that shouldn't be turned into a screwed up curse.  I no longer speak to my parents.  That line was drawn for my own safety, the safety of my new family, of my pets and my husband.  Speaking up about the abuse they inflicted on me is my way of holding them accountable for their decisions.     No family member deserves to have others in the family believe their illness to be a lie, to be told that their experiences aren't true.  Family shouldn't gaslight (info: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaslight…) family.  It's classified as abuse for a reason.  I've needed to come out about what happened to me to process it and make it through, and for the past several months I've been too anxious to do so.  Partly because of how some of the members of my new family (who I also thought were my friends) have gaslighted me, but also because I have a severe anxiety disorder that required medical intervention beyond my old psychiatrist's insistence I increase my magnesium supplement intake.  Fortunately after I dumped him I found a competent, but difficult psychiatrist.  She knows her medicines well, is frank about what she thinks of each medication, and recommended me the tried and true standard for treating depression and anxiety disorders.  Yep, Prozac.  Between that and continued therapy (EMDR specifically, which you can read about here www.emdr.com/what-is-emdr/ ) I'm starting to recover in earnest.  My pain issues thankfully are being addressed between a specialty pain clinic and my medications.  Fortunately they were able to stumble upon what was actually hurting me; muscle spasms, a common PTSD symptom. I'm working on physical therapy to recover and prevent further pain.  These treatments and my own endurance have gotten me to this point, and I'm proud to say that.  But I'm crushed that I had to fight through friends and family to get here, alongside the medical industry as a whole.  When I first realized I was sick and made a journal about it, someone asked me if I'd write about my experiences in the medical health system.  I didn't realize at the time why.  Now I do. They asked my opinion, so here it is: the mental health system is broken.  I was made significantly worse, to the point of nearly having a stroke (to quote my psychiatrist after I described my last trip to the ER) and likely nearly having died several times.  And having tried to take my life several times.  All of it was unnecessary.  A large part of my suicidal ideation issues were merely the result of a lack of medical treatment.  This part of why I'm working with deathstroke50 to leave the USA and move to Britain.  Its hardly a perfect place, but we think we'll be happier there.  And as it turns out the UK not only has a very informative website about PTSD (www.ptsduk.org/) but their standard treatment to try upon diagnosis is EMDR therapy alongside Prozac.  Great.  Only took me two hellish years and several near death experiences to get there.   TL;DR I've been through some shit.  Honestly I'm surprised I'm alive, after being repeatedly kicked while I was down by the medical system and a few of my family and friends.  But I'm making changes in my life and getting better quickly.  Also I'm trying to move to the UK.  With me luck please~

#personal #mental health #eat that PTSD #cw animal abuse #child abuse #suicide #hospital patient abuse

[black-arcana]

KRYPTERIA – AND THEN SHE CAME

Interview with AND THEN SHE CAME

Interview conducted Feb. 28, 2021 by Dan Locke

AND THEN SHE CAME Ji-In Cho (lead vocals), Olli Singer (guitars), Frank Stumvoll (bass guitar) und S.C. Kuschnerus (drums).

Ji-In, you are German-Korean. What is your upbringing?

JI-IN: Hello Dan, thanks for having us. My parents are both from Korea. They met in Germany where they married and started a family. I was therefore raised in a Korean manner in a German environment. You can imagine that this did not make for an easy upbringing or childhood. But it gave me the benefit of getting to know both cultures and maybe even the opportunity to combine what’s best of them.

How did you discover music?

JI-IN: I don’t remember a specific moment in my life. I remember our home as a home of music. My parents liked to sing or play guitar or piano and I remember dancing a lot to their favorite music. I am also told that I was singing all day long to songs I heard on the radio or tunes that I made up myself. So I guess that was the time where music became my inspiration.

How did you start to write music?

JI-IN: I wrote my first song when I was six years old. I always loved animals and I couldn’t understand why my father went fishing. When he came back with his haul I was very sad and refused to eat the fish. So I wrote my first song about not hurting fish.

Describe your music.

JI-IN: Well, I definitely didn’t write any more fish songs (laughs). On a more serious note, I can’t sit down and plan my songwriting ahead of time. Instead, I am more the spontaneous type who gives in to impulses, emotions, and inspirations from all around me. I try to channel those ideas, pictures, tunes, and feelings into my songwriting.

What was your first performance like?

JI-IN: If you mean my very first performance in my life, I played Maria, the mother of Jesus, in elementary school. I remember my first stage fright. After it was over I was very proud and I knew that I wanted to be on stage again.

What was the title of your first original song? Did you record it?

JI-IN: It was called “I go fishing”. And no, I did not record it back then as a young girl but today I wish I had. It would be a nice memory to share with my future grandkids.

You started off in Become One a German Boy/Girl pop band, and then you were cast onto the German reality television show “Fame Academy”. Tell me about the time on the show?

JI-IN: Right after my studies at the Cologne University for Music and Dance where I was trained as a classical musician I suddenly got tossed into the pop business. As a participant in the German television show ‚Fame Academy,’ I endured three competitive months of singing, dancing, and acting. Every week we had to prepare live acts for the elimination show that was recorded and broadcasted from a studio set every Saturday night. In the end, I won the competition together with five colleagues of mine. We formed the band Become One and went on tour for a year. This is how I received my very first recording contract with a major label. It was a very stressful and emotional time in which I learned a lot about the reality of the music business.

You have appeared with the likes of Phil Collins, Sarah Connor, B3 and Ricky Martin. Did any of these artists give you any words of wisdom about the music business?

JI-IN: There were so many things to learn and to experience during the show. The personal time with the visiting stars was too brief for any chitchat or personal talk, though. However, I did spend some time with Lionel Richie during a show event that featured all ‚Fame Academy‘ winners from many participating countries. He said to me then that we should never give up if we really feel the need to be an artist. I think about his words every once in a while and to me they still ring true.

Let’s turn our focus to And Then She Came now. Guys, describe the band’s music.

KUSCH: It’s hard-driving drums, heavy guitars and intense singing galore. It’s Rock, it’s Metal, there are quite a few alternative vibes but also some pretty catchy hooks involved, too. Lyrically we tend to steer clear of your traditional boy-meets-girl topics, but rather go for a more sociopolitical approach. Let’s say there’s not a whole lot of stand-by-your-man stuff with this band.

How does the songwriting process work between the four of you?

KUSCH: Well, everybody chimes in with different creative ideas as we are lucky to have four very imaginative musicians in this band who all write and arrange. We try not to limit ourselves and instead toy around with all our combined influences and delusions. But apart from that, there is no clear-cut recipe as to how we create our songs. In Shecameville there’s a new adventure every day (laughs).

Do you belong to any to songwriters’ organizations like the International singer-songwriter association?

FRANK: We do. All four of us are members of GEMA which basically is the German equivalent to your ASCAP.

What makes a good songwriter?

JI-IN: In my opinion, there is no strict recipe. I know there are some songwriters who have fixed methods and procedures but that approach does not work for me. I have to feel free in the creative process and do not like to be limited in any way. In the end, the only thing that matters is the outcome. I think a good songwriter is able to somehow touch the listeners with his or her music.

KUSCH: I agree in the sense that a good songwriter knows how to connect with his or her core audience first and foremost. So even though the songs may not be all that good you’re obviously still doing something right and are considered successful at your craft. Now, a great or even transcendent songwriter is able to touch people beyond any genre confines. That’s when the likelihood we deem it ‚good‘ music increases significantly. But you can’t underestimate the importance of the performance itself and also whether a given song gets a chance to be heard. If „Bohemian Rhapsody“ hadn’t been a hit, would it be a lesser song? I don’t think so. There are probably thousands of gems out there that never got a proper forum.

You used to be in the band Krypteria. Why did you change up the band?

KUSCH: In 2012, following a killer Asian tour, Ji-In was about to become a Mom so we unanimously decided to put Krypteria on hold for an indefinite time. Then one day our bass player Frank was asked to create the soundtrack for a German-American movie. But instead of taking on this task all by himself, he brought in Ji-In, Olli, and myself. The creative process took on a life of its own, and all of a sudden we found ourselves working on songs for a full-fledged Rock album. Now, even though And Then She Came started out as just a movie soundtrack project, we just had to go on. Why? Well, I guess we’re just unable to get rid of each other even after all those years, aren’t we?

How did you first establish your band back in 2004?

KUSCH: The three original guys in Krypteria first had a band together in the Nineties and despite not working together all the time we never quite lost contact. So when the idea of starting something new came up in 2004 all we needed was an outstanding vocalist. Preferably a vocalist with a knack for energetic performances while not showing any signs of lead singers’ disease. Ji-In, who we had met during a studio session a year prior to that, fit that bill just perfectly so we asked her if she was interested in jumping aboard, and fortunately, she was. Then Olli was brought into the fold in early 2010 so the four of us have been working together for more than a decade now albeit under two different names.

Krypteria’s single “Liberatio” was used as part of a charity campaign to aid the Tsunami victims in Southeast Asia. What is the musical difference between Krypteria and And Then She Came?

JI-IN: And Then She Came is much rougher and it’s more about the synergy of organic rock instruments and electronic elements. We like to think that we still have good melodies, though. That’s really important to each of us.

KUSCH: The main difference between Krypteria and And Then She Came might indeed be the edgier and less theatrical touch that is particularly evident in the arrangements and our individual performances. I guess thanks to said more organic approach we were able to again turn it up a good notch in terms of sonic intensity, depth, and the overall vibe right off the bat compared to our prior releases.

What else did you change compared to your time with Krypteria?

JI-IN: We consciously made the choice to release our albums by ourselves. Yes, it may be tough sometimes because of the extra work and responsibility this kind of independence and freedom entails. Especially for a lot of stuff that, at least on the surface, has little to do with making music. That said, it’s a tremendous opportunity to shape our future as a band as we see fit. And as Kusch likes to say, if we screw up, then at least we’ll die by our own sword.

How did you come up with the name?

JI-IN: Actually, we chose And Then She Came because we wanted people to think, to find their own interpretation as far as the meaning of the name is concerned. Just as there is never only one point of view or one universal truth, there are many possible interpretations for this name. Sometimes it’s very funny how just one headline can lead to different background stories in one’s head. Even with all the information out there you still have to come to your own conclusion. That’s why we found And Then She Came as a name very interesting. For instance, I naturally think about the name in a totally different way than some men do (winks).

Do you think that your old fans will follow your new band?

JI-IN: I really hope our fans from back then continue to find us and are happy that we are back even though it’s with a different kind of music. And I really, really hope that they like our new sounds and songs.

Tell me about your debut album?

OLLI: You could call it the beginning of our creative rollercoaster ride. It felt like all the unused creative energy was suddenly breaking through. This and the fact that ATSC actually started as a studio film score project is probably the reason for the enormous amount of different colors in our music. Now, after the release of our second album „Kaosystematic“ and being in the middle of the process of writing new material for our third album, I can clearly say that starting this journey is the best thing we have ever done so far.

How was it to work with Arch Enemy’s Alissa White-Gluz and guitarist Jen Majura of Evanescence?

KUSCH: Well, we’ve known Alissa for a number of years now, and not only is she a killer performer, but she is an amazing soul as well. See, she’s a pro’s pro. She’s a warrior, she has to be. But as a friend, she is super sweet and she doesn’t mind going that extra mile. When we asked her if she was interested in adding that signature beast mode intensity of hers to our song „Five Billion Lies“ she didn’t even blink. Now, Jen, we have known for way over ten years, and it’s always great meeting her at a festival, a show, or a music fair. She’s such a sweetheart and an awesome guitarist, and we’re so proud of her for hitting it big with Evanescence. Her guitar solo on our song „Spit It Out“ is nothing short of spectacular. It’s amazing musicianship, creative cleverness and a fistful of good-natured cheekiness all rolled into one. Beautiful!

What is your favorite video of all time you have created?

FRANK: My favorite ATSC video is our 2018 tour movie „As The Lights Go Down“ in its entirety. It brings back great memories of a fun tour.

KUSCH: Good call! Aside from that for me, it’s a close call between “As The Battle Rages On“, “Sick Of You“ and “Public Enemy #1“. That said I like the respective messages behind „Perfect As You Are“, both the video and the tour version.

OLLI: Definitely “Perfect As You Are“. Actually, we did two videos for this song. It was an extremely demanding shoot, cause I literally switched positions constantly. Between performing and directing there was no minute of rest. But it was absolutely worth it. I really enjoyed Ji-In’s playfulness in her role as ‚Korean Marylin Monroe‘. Yet the second version is my favorite. It takes the original message of the song and projects it onto the ATSC team as a family. It is still heartwarming for me to see our crew’s performance in front of the camera during the whole video. We love you guys!

What are your feelings about streaming music?

FRANK: While streaming is very convenient and fast, for us musicians there is no significant advantage in my opinion. Granted, your work is available to more potential listeners, but the net is being flooded with new digital content ever since streaming took over, so making a name for yourself is even more difficult than it used to be. Also, the artists merely receive breadcrumbs for creating the fuel these platforms run on. You simply cannot support yourself through streaming. That’s why all the bands have to make their money on the road. It’s a vicious cycle. The author and performer should get a fair share of the profits when their music is being streamed, similar to what we had in the past with mechanical releases. The only winner in this so far is the big media companies.

If you couldn’t do music what would you like to be doing?

KUSCH: Too scary! So in true Rock musician’s spirit, I’d probably choose denial and stick with something along the lines of ‚damn the torpedoes‘ or ‚the best is yet to come instead.

Digital vs. vinyl?

FRANK: That’s a good question. It depends on your preferences and maybe your age. Back in the days I really liked listening to one side of vinyl on constant repeat while closely studying the sleeve. It made me feel like I was a part of it. Digital made everything easy, you can carry the whole world of music and movies on your cell phone. But can you really develop a deeper connection to the work a musician put so much time and dedication into? Maybe that’s why vinyl has been making a steady comeback recently?

What is the mental health situation of the World?

OLLI: Over the years we met a lot of people all over the world. And with many of them, we became close friends. It is heartbreaking how they all tell the same. Egoism seems to be overtaking everywhere. And this started already long before the pandemic. There are so many challenges for us as a species in order to build a better and safer future. For us, for our children, and for our planet and its entire ecosystem. But unfortunately, people always find reasons why they themselves don’t have to act. Ultimately this egoism leads to most of our problems we as human beings have to deal with these days.

What song from the past is in your mind right now? Moreover, what does that song mean to you?

OLLI: “Where Do We Go From Here?“ from our first album. Not only because it was the first song we ever played in front of an audience. But also because it sounds like a good headline for every single day of the last year.

KUSCH: In times of turmoil it can’t hurt to put on „What a wonderful world“ or John Lennon’s „Imagine“. With so much deception, aggression, and us-against-them in the world right now a healthy dose of positivity is what we need. And even if you don’t agree with everything Lennon said or did you really must be an all-out asshole to not share the hope that someday the world actually will live as one.

Do you feel the Covid-19 virus is going to affect the music business in the future?

FRANK: No doubt about it, as it is currently killing the whole industry. All touring activities unexpectedly got frozen, and there’s no telling when we will be allowed to return to our every day’s work. Nobody knows what will happen and who will still be in business when it finally starts to return to some sort of normalcy. But there will be a very different musical landscape for all of us, I fear. More like a “new normal” similar to what transpired after the 9/11 attacks.

What have you been doing with your self-quarantine?

OLLI: Learning. A lot about myself and my very own abilities to stay strong in order to be there for my family. It has been a tough year and it still is. But love and hope keeps me going. My thoughts are with the people who lost a loved one. But in the end I am sure that we can come out stronger than we have been before. For sure that will be the case with ATSC. Somehow we are growing together even more. But I guess that is what artists are like. Make them eat shit and they deal with it in their own ways. Nonetheless it’s a tough fight for our and our families’ existence. I can already say that this is obvious when you listen to our new material.

Have you discovered or rediscovered any new hobbies?

FRANK: I’ve been running a lot lately, more than ever before actually.

OLLI: Not a new one. But I had much more time for my biggest passion besides the music. I am an outdoor guy. I even live between lakes, forests and mountains. So whenever I can, I just grab my backpack and vanish into the wilderness for a couple of days. You can’t find me at home, in a tourbus or in a studio? Try looking somewhere in the wilderness. But maybe you wanna bring a thermal imaging camera. Stealth as stealth can be!

KUSCH: For me it’s more and more long walks in nature, minus the vanishing. Also I had the chance to follow the NFL season more closely than I had been able to recently. Plus, the lockdowns we’ve had over here allowed me to work on some old gear I still had sitting around. And while this is all nice I can’t wait to go on the road, meet people and enjoy the overall experience again. I really miss it.

95% of people said that they have changed the way they watch television. This includes people who don’t have television and use their computers to do streaming of programs and movies. Which is your favorite streaming channel?

OLLI: I am a huge movie addict. So streaming platforms became a good alternative to me. Especially since I am spending a lot of time on the road. Carrying a DVD collection wherever I go wouldn’t be realistic at all. But to be honest I don’t have a favorite channel. Each one has its strengths. And yes, I have subscribed to probably every one of the known platforms (laughs).

How can bands keep their fans if they cannot play live in front of the fans and sell merch to them at the show?

KUSCH: Well, doing an interview with UnRated sure is one excellent opportunity to reconnect.

What about Holographic concerts in our living room?

KUSCH: Do we really need less incentive to get out of the house and interact with actual human beings? Or even more technology for that matter? Take Autotune or what CGI does to movies. What was created as tools to support the arts is now dominating them. For example, given the choice between 1982’s ‚The Thing‘ and what was supposed to be its prequel from 2011 I’ll pick Carpenter’s movie any day. Same with real-life concerts in actual venues with actual people on, behind, and in front of the stage.

How do you stay healthy while touring?

FRANK: Living on a tour bus and in venues for weeks at a time is obviously very different compared to being home. You need to get ready way before you go on tour and there surely are many ways to prepare.

My personal one is I run every other day. Now once a tour has started there’s always a big party happening on the bus after the shows with great loud music and you get your booze for the night. Come to think of it, maybe this is my personal way to stay not-so healthy while touring (laughs).

Is pay-to-play still a thing? Now pay-to-play also means things like playlist on the internet?

KUSCH: Well, I don’t know about the internet but in the touring business it is. That said, in Europe, it’s more that you pay your share of production, transportation or catering costs, things you actually benefit from. So it’s not like you dole out cash just to be allowed to perform in a support slot. At least we never had to.

Any new music coming up in the new year?

FRANK: Due to the situation surrounding the pandemic everything’s in limbo. But as soon as scheduling any concerts and tours make sense again, our third album will be out right away, be it this year or early in 2022. This band is never short on inspiration, after all within the first three years of our existence we’ve released two studio albums, a live album, a live DVD, and a tour movie. So naturally, we are writing all the time, exchanging ideas. If this Covid thing lingers on any longer we may end up with a total of 500 new songs. Good luck to us trying to decide which of these will make the record (laughs).

Anything you would like to say in closing?

KUSCH: Enjoy life cause it might well be the only one you have. And stay safe and sane out there cause we want our friends and fans to be healthy, so we will get to see you on tour at some point. For those of you who haven’t listened to And The She Came go and give our music a shot, you might actually dig it. And come and see us live if you can, but make sure to stick around after the show cause we’d love to get to know you better. And bring a friend or twenty (laughs).

JI-IN: Yes, we can’t wait to get out and meet you guys, and feed off your energy on stage. In the meantime take good care of yourself everybody!

#and then she came #ji-In cho #olli singer #frank stumvoll #s.c. kuschnerus #interview

[disarmingly]

fanfic asks (part 1 is here! feel free to send the other numbers tho at this point i lost track im sorry lmfdslfjdskfdskfdlsjl)

2 [ things that motivate you ]

i think this is likely true of most people who make things for public consumption and that's honestly…when people respond to something we make? whether it's a comment or the notes on your bookmark or a message or an ask or a dm on twitter or anything just saying 'hey i read this i liked it' or something in the same vein (more or less a nice thing is a nice thing!) i touched on this with the last set in number 27's answer on the last set.... where i refer to kindnesses as a currency. to be clearer, i write fic to explore ideas for personalities i am already in love with whether characters from an era or canon images or, more likely, a hybridization of the two (plus extrapolations) and also stories/theories that appeal to me but also MEAN a lot to me and in doing so i hope will mean something to others. i write it to connect (i am a broken record but it's what it is isn't it ^^) and sort of see if the way that i think and process can in fact be translated to other people. to see that it can, here and there, is immeasurably important to me. 

i have always wanted to be one of those people who can self-motivate but i find more and more that the truth is i very much look to other peoples' approval and responses, and perhaps that will always be the case, which i suppose means i have to just keep working harder and honing the art as best i can -- give or take. i hold comments close, asks, messages, all of that. i screencap them because i'm afraid the eternal internet will fail me ^^;;; and sometimes people remove t hei r bookmarks or whatnot so like…um i'm glad i screencapped them ^^;;; and there was one twitter convo where the nice thing they said was so far back i couldn't see it anymore ;_; so lol i'm glad i screencapped that too….a-and now u all know i am crazy T////T hahikesduiojklefdsiojk OTL s-seriously though. have i said before i think sometimes people have a natural baseline? i said it in 'below zero' but outside of that i mean…so a good thing a tangible thing when i am below zero (often) ends up being…many things to me. i'm grateful even if i fail to fully harness people's generosity to the extent i ought to.

5 [ since how long do you write? ]

mmm…since i stopped drawing entirely so like hum… /squints/ /rubs chin/ /rubs head/ ahhh like i guess i really started wholly focusing and shifted from visual to verbal in my last year of middle school! ^^;;/ but i wrote fiction primarily at the time because i had a dream of writing a book that would stay with people the way my favorite books have stayed with me. weirdly i am only now able to write narrative for fanfic and otherwise all my original writing is poetry…which is significantly less relatable for people and has such an unforgiving set of standards that i mostly have lost hope for making my way in that area, though i still produce material.

9 [ do you set yourself deadlines? ]

mmm not hard deadlines. i can't trick myself that way per se. but i can trick myself by being like mini deadlines so a paragraph a morning or something of that ilk? i'm very flow-by-flow so hard deadlines are just lolololololol however, i do have friends who work very well within the stricter parameters of a due date; basically your mileage may vary, but for me it works best to say: try to have something complete by the end of a 30 day period, and then to adjust along the way i.e. i clearly won't have this done by 30 days at least get the first draft done. etc. OTL i'm so wishy washy ;_;

36 [ one-shot or multi-chaptered story? ]

NERVOUS LAUGHTER RUBS MY EYES uiojrlekfsdiok i do better when i do one-shots i am like shudders at my multi-chapter ideas but fall down lightly began more as a vignette series and oops got a narrative in real time my MISTAKE because i know everything that happens but have basically made myself so nervous about it i've been staring at the next real chapter for five thousand years. it just doesn't seem good enough ;_; lololol so for the sake of not releasing something that is a waste of time for other people to look at i….haven't. it's a verse i love and i want to complete because I KNOW HOW IT ENDS LMFALKFJD and even what happens along the way but like lololol /stares at my hands unhappily/ ljldskjfs ah well anyway though one-shot i do trust myself more with. because when it's done/posted? it's done. barring revisions ^^;; (and typos T_T;;;)

39 [ do you want to be published some day? ]

the dream ;_; ah. i don't delude myself thinking i could ever make money doing what is most important to me…poetry is not largely a money making facet of the writing industry and even the ones that are real jobs aren't very um…whatchacallit um……huh….productive money wise? not that that should be my focus but i always dreamt if i made a lot of money i could give people lots of things and stuff…which…i always wanted to do… 

._.;;; i digress. but like to get poetry published would be nice. to be accepted a little in that way would be nice. but even honestly if i started releasing it online and people liked it that would be enough for me at this point. i had a teacher who once said to me: your real strength lies in essay writing, you should change your track. and it has been hurting me ever since haha. i don't like writing essays. i HATE it. same goes for journalism. all of which i avoided despite being told 'it's what you're good at'….i …is it weird to say poetry is what i love even if i don't love my own writing? i want my writing to be better and i'll try to keep doing it regardless but that really…ah it's funny how one thing can be a shadow isn't it? long answer OTL I apologize ;_; but like…so yes. i would love it. it feels impossible but … it would be….it would be nice.

42 [ do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind? ]

i do both. it depends on the story. sometimes it is literally both for one story and sometimes i run out the gate with the exactitudes and it is what i think it will be (mostly). save me was a combination. follow was precisely as i planned it and so was sidereal. fall down lightly i know the exacts of what happens but not how i want to convey them so there's that. this time around i knew exactly. time and again i had all down in notes so i do know what happens but again not how i verbalize. call and answer was PAINSTAKINGLY planned help me lmdlskfdsj…..as was so far away. dearly beloved was a moment, begin was inspired and stream of consciousness -- as was one thing and balancing act. ;; i'm not very one or the other i suppose…. T////T

44 [ do you write linear or do you write future scenes if you feel like it? ]

like 42 i am both. it depends. i wrote save me as you read it but i literally hop around time within it so i'm not sure if question means that or if i write it all out linearly first??? in which case no??? but only because weirdly if i plan to hop around in time for a story it's best if i do so in real-time as i write it or i lose the rhythm i wanted to actualize for the story's feeling and resolution/end-point. i have notes all of the time too about things i haven't paragraphed out so like…if that is part of the answer….

47 [ how many unfinished ideas/stories are you working on at the same time? ]

o_o;;;; w-well my drafts folder is divided into two parts -- one is complete drafts that need looking at again and one is unfinished works entirely, if you want the final headcount of both it's lolololol

71

rest in pieces me….

._. nowaskmehowmanyaresugakookie lmfdslkjfs no don't. mostofthem. andsomenamkook. lolololol…….helpme…

as with the first asks, thank you for reading. thanks for talking to me and taking an interest. i feel boring and anxious and very sporadic and like too weird/???? like really awkward lame???? but i do like talking about writing...even if i feel...also rambling rambling rambling.....granted these were shorter bc i wanted to do them before i had to run ^^;;;  if any of them need elaboration i can be clearer!!! a-anyway /shoves paper bag over my own head/ …./w-waves gratefully as scurries to the train!!!!…..

also gosh i might've taken too long but …butterfly anon….your message…has been helping me survive this week…ah…i replied longer to your message in a previous post but like.../mentions again…. T_T;;; it's been really….hard…haha…so thank you t_t

#fanfic asks #asks #haku shut up #fic asks #sdkljfkldsf sdkljfdsjflds ahhhh #;; #someday i will be better #ihope

[prayforbrains-blog]

I HEARD YOU LIKE NEW FEATURES

SO I’M GONNA GIVE YOU SOME NEW FEATURES.

And when it rains it fucking pours. 

I am c r y i n g over Twitter’s vehement division on this new Twitch ‘affiliate’ program. So far these have been my favorites:

“Whelp no one’s gonna care about getting partnered now.”

“Well so much for partnerships being exclusive. My sub button doesn’t make me special anymore RIP my streaming career.” 

“OMG THIS IS GONNA HELP SO-AND-SO SO MUCH.” *same person 180s 20 minutes later* “I think the requirements for concurrent viewers should be raised to 50.” *immediately disqualifying the so-and-so originally mentioned*

“TWITCH JUST WANTS MORE MONEY. FUCK TWITCH.”

OH BOY WHERE DO WE START. 

Let’s just get down with the facts. 

What is the Twitch Affiliate Program?

The Twitch Affiliate program is simply a way for non-partnered streamers to obtain sought after features like bits, AN emote (note: singular), and that elusive purple sub button. Here’s a breakdown of existing features and how they apply to the three subsets of broadcasters:

Looks cool? Looks weird? Looks confusing?  All of the above? Honestly it doesn’t concern you that much UNLESS you are a broadcaster, however you might be concerned how your favorite channel may change if the broadcaster decides he/she desires to opt into these features (once they are accepted that is). So let’s dive right into this shit fest and start with my favorite topic that’s come into question:

#1  G R O W T H  

People who want to hustle and network and ACTUALLY have potential (i.e. personality/talent) to succeed on Twitch will succeed. Bacon Donut wrote a phenomenal article a few months ago (which I highly recommend reading) on why YOU might be the reason you’re not successful on Twitch.

“Every single excuse that you dream up that doesn’t focus inward to your own content is either wrong, or is the same obstacle that someone else managed to leap over to become successful.” - Bacon Donut

He goes on to discuss the multitude of reasons why people fail to grow and achieve their goals on the platform. I’ve been around Twitch long enough to know that every one of the topics he touches on is spot the FUCK on. Most people spend more time bitching about how ‘over-saturated’ the directory is. Let me enlighten you kiddos: EVERY INDUSTRY CAN BE OVERSATURATED AS FUCK. You have to fucking put yourself out there. You have to be entertaining or talented or have a gimmick. No amount of sleek new (formerly) exclusive features and a (singular) emote will help you if you aren’t producing consistent engaging content.

“BUT PRAY YOU DUMB BITCH YOU AREN’T PARTNERED AND YOUR STREAM ISN’T GROWING AT ALL SO YOUR OPINION IS IRRELEVANT.’

The fuck it is punk. I don’t stream because I wanna be a Twitch partner. I stream because I love video games and I enjoy interacting with people. I also have an opinion because I (along with damn near every other Tom, Dick, and Shithead on the block) am eligible for this program. I also don’t need to be a partner to give advice on how to get partnered. I’ve watched 20+ friends grow from NOTHING on Twitch to quality partnered casters. I’ve even helped some of them. Ask around, people will tell you I’m all about spreading the love, helping those I am able to help, and introducing people to new like minded individuals. 

Let’s continue...

#2  M O N E Y 

Let’s start off with the only thing you really need to know about Twitch. TWITCH IS A BUSINESS. I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, ‘WOAH PRAY FUCKING EARTH SHATTERING INFORMATION.’ but you’d be surprised how many people don’t understand this. Twitch is not here to hold your hand and walk you down the purple brick road to that shiny purple button. Twitch is here to make money just like any other business in the universe. Lemme give you a breakdown on some numbers kiddos:

1. Amazon reportedly acquired Twitch for a cool $970 million 

2. It has been suggested that the vast majority of Twitch streamers average less than 10 viewers. (Though I’m sure Twitch is highly aware of the actual number and percentage)

Let’s start with that first bit and the most glaringly-can-be-seen-from-fucking-space obvious: Amazon wants both return on investment and solid plans for future growth. They wouldn’t have acquired Twitch if they weren’t looking for more money fam. That’s just business and regardless of how much you bitch and moan about corporate greed on Twitter that won’t change. 

Second: all those (including myself) down in the bottom of the directories with less than 10 viewers all take up resources on Twitch’s end. Those broadcasters get those resources for exactly zero dollars and zero cents and let me tell you that is a fucking steal. It would be completely ridiculous for Twitch not to take a little bit of advantage from those people at all. The affiliate program will surely not hurt any of those streamers. They’ll get a cool global emote and their viewers can toss a few bits their way. C O O L . You know what Twitch gets? A few extra $$$ to keep the servers up and the lights on. 

Are you feeding some corporate fat-cat’s wallet in the process of subbing to your favorite streamer? Sure, but you already do that every time you buy a box of cereal, TK Broha. So unless you’re planning to completely remove yourself from society and live off the land (which you’ll still have to pay $$$ to the government for, effectively feeding rich+corrupt politicians) YOU CAN’T REALLY AVOID IT GOOD CHUM. Sure your intentions might be fantastic: CONGRATULATIONS Robin Hood: you’re a decent human being. but at the end of the day I know for a fact you’re still gonna go buy your fucking Honey Nut Cheerios™ and your car’s still gonna need gas because you forgot to fill it up on your way home from work yesterday broskiski. Unless you’re actually an adolescent or just have absolutely no idea how business and the economy works (in which case go take a fucking basic economics class jfc) all of this information should be understandable and acceptable in 2017.  

#3  N U M B E R S

So the most compelling commentary about the affiliate program is about the requirement numbers. According to Twitch’s press release broadcasters simply need to meet these simple requirements to be invited to the affiliate program: 

At least 500 total minutes broadcast in the last 30 days

At least 7 unique broadcast days in the last 30 days

An average of 3 concurrent viewers or more over the last 30 days

At least 50 Followers

K. Sounds legit. The biggest concern people have voiced is that the requirements are TOO LOW, more specifically the follower and concurrent viewer count. Some have stated it should be as high as 50+ concurrent viewers with 500-1000+ followers.  K. That makes total sense when the majority of new partners I’ve seen have been average between 50-100 concurrent viewers. [LET ME BE CLEAR. THIS IS NOT A DISS FOR THOSE NEW PARTNERS WHO PULL THOSE NUMBERS. THOSE NUMBERS ARE FUCKING RAD. PLEASE KEEP KICKING AS MUCH ASS AS POSSIBLE AND CREATING CONSISTENT CONTENT. I APPRECIATE THE FUCK OUT OF YOU.] I’m saying it’s pretty fucking ridiculous for that to even be considered to be the threshold for this program. Twitch is seeking to capitalize off of EVERY POSSIBLE STREAM IT CAN. Twitch doesn’t care that you feel threatened or like your ‘cool kids club’ is less cool; they just want that spicy revenue. 

‘Yeah, but how many subs is a person with 3 viewers gonna have Pray?’ 

A M A Z I N G L O G I C. Hold on to those Cheerios™ you bought TK Broha cause I’m about to rock your honey nuts to the moon and back. They could have anywhere from 0-(insert number here). Now hypothetically let’s say ALL of those 3 concurrent viewers decide to invest and subscribe/throw bits at that caster, Twitch gets it’s normal % cut. Not a lot you say? Now multiply that by every. single. streamer with that many viewers. THAT’S A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY. Or rather, that’s a lot of potential money that up until this point in time had been squandered/lost to companies like GameWisp and Streamtip.

Twitch isn’t trying to put those people out of business necessarily, but it does want to maximize profits. It makes sense that they would offer this program to as many people as possible. So keep bitching on Twitter (cause honestly it’s entertaining af), but I HIGHLY doubt those numbers will change. Sorry not sorry. 

#4  E X C L U S I V I T Y 

So that thing on the right? It’s called a cubic zirconia and it’s man made stone that resembles a diamond. It’s significantly cheaper to buy. I can walk into any Target and buy a pair of those bad boys to wear in my earholes for less than 20 bucks. Pretty neat right?  That thing on the left on the other hand is the real deal. That’s a certified diamond boiz. The price of diamonds? Start in the hundreds and start climbing faster than The Flash can run around the globe. You can tell the difference between the two pretty easily once you notice the little things right? Diamonds can cut fucking glass, CZs can’t. They’re both timeless and incredibly beautiful stones, but one outshines the other. It’s rarity makes it worth more, but they’re both used in jewelry that can be treasured forever and sometimes passed down from generation to generation. IN CASE YOU’RE CONFUSED THIS IS A METAPHOR KIDS. [met·a·phorˈmedəˌfôr,ˈmedəˌfər/nouna figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.]  My point is fairly simple. Partners will always have access to new features and cool parties before affiliates. Partners will have an easier time networking with sponsors and game devs. Partnership will still be a goal for those individuals who are passionate and want to build relationships with other brands. Just like a diamond is a status symbol in society, partnership will still be a status symbol on Twitch.  Another really important component here is: these things are only worth the value you see in them personally. You may be enamored with the idea of being a partner because you want to be a part of that cool kid’s club. That’s 100% okay. Some people aren’t interested in the status symbol. I’m sure there are more people like me out there who could fucking care less about the little checkmarks next to people’s names on social media, but for others that’s the epitome of internet fame and the ultimate goal. 

You know what this program is really going to do? It’s gonna RUDELY awaken some folks who have delusions of grandeur.   A sub button is not going to make you successful. A sub button is not going to make you famous. A sub button is not going to make you rich.  A sub button is not going to bring new users to your channel.

A sub button is just a button that the people who are already in your channel are going to choose whether or not to press. 

This is going to be a hard pill for a lot of small and medium sized casters to swallow. People are excited now, but when they don’t wake up with 1000 subs they’re gonna have to take stock of what’s really going on and why they aren’t growing. A lot of dreams are about to be brutally shattered. 

[tehyon]

Power (1.0)

The one day when everything that can go wrong has gone wrong: losing my job, boyfriend and dropping my favourite ice cream, some idiot decides to hit me with their bike. Instead of waking up to a group of doctors prodding at my broken body, I find myself surrounded by a group of six men telling me that I have to save their god damn planet. It’s not every day someone calls you ‘the chosen one’ unironically.

A/N; I have no idea what I just wrote, it’s a mess really, but it’s my first exo fic in a while, and I found it in my drafts. 

Genre; fluff, romance, fantasy, i don’t even know at this point.

one • two • three • epilogue

//////

My idiot of a boyfriend had decided that butt-dialling me whilst he was touching up my boss would be a good idea. And being the irrational underpaid law student, I had marched right in there to decorate his face with my hands. Yes, I lost my job in the process, but the look on that old hag’s face was worth the awkwardness later when I had to fill in the termination of contract form in the same office. 

I’m not exactly coming off as the nicest person here, but trust me, when an intern knocks the only good thing in your life out of your hands before you’ve even had a chance to thank the cashier I think I deserved someone to rage at.

Of course, I had chosen to get my tower of ice cream at night time like a smart line conscious person, so when I walked back out of the building, a box of stationery in hand, I wasn’t exactly the most eagle-eyed person out there. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see the crazy delivery man charging down the road at me. 

All I know is, that it hurt a lot.

Sometime later.

Perhaps it was the fact that I could feel a stick prodding my side repeatedly, or maybe the fact that someone had decided that singing a beatbox mashup of Taylor Swift loudly in my ear would be appreciated, but everything seemed to just amplify my massive headache.

I peeled my eyes open, knowing that I had to face the idiots one day or another. Although I certainly hoped that I lived long enough to tell them that it’s actually “a long list of ex-lovers”.

“So it’s gonna be forever?” The voice wailed, pitching at unbearable notes causing me to grimace slightly as my senses flooded back, “Or it’s gonna go down in flames”

I shot up with a cough, “Shut up” I grumbled, running my hands through my hair trying to think back to what had happened earlier.

An obnoxious orange motorbike came to mind, and my hands itched to introduce my house keys to the shiny glossy paint job. Knowing that that was probably not the most important thing right now, my pent-up anger lulled as I moved to glance around slightly. What had caught my eyes however, were the black irises staring back at me.

“You know, you’re mean for someone who crashed our party”

My head whipped to the direction of the voice, away from the captivating eyes, as my vision landed on another similar pair of eyes.

“I-I’m sorry?” I spluttered at this point, I was just concerned that I might be in some sort of mental asylum as the poking to my side had still not ceased.

“You just literally crashed in here, like some sort of fallen angel” The face to the eyes was jubilant, but still held a certain amount of caution, he had chuckled at the end of his statement, but just a subtle glare from the man that I first laid eyes on when I woke up told me that this wasn’t much of a laughing matter.

“For God’s sake Chanyeol stop poking her, I can hear her cussing you out” He had a handsome face – now that I’d snapped out of an eye obsessed trance – it was sharp, almost model-like, and with his height, he certainly filled the definition of ‘looming’.

Definitely a nine, would’ve been a ten if he hadn’t been so rude.

I nodded as a sign of appreciation, although still slightly confused at how he knew that I was swearing my socks off at the childlike man that had finally stopped.

“I-“

“I know you’re confused, but I’m really not in the mood to tell you what’s going on, we’re in the middle of something important, so I’m going to get Suho to sort this out”

A couple of the others around me blurred as they seemed to disappear and instead of telling me literally anything about what was going on, the man-child resumed poking me, resting his head on his free hand and smiling slightly.

“Kai’s always a bit touchy whenever he thinks one of the Electus are in the area, don’t worry, Papi will protect you” He winked as if his joke was hilarious and shook the stick slightly at my rib cage as if to tickle me.

I stared on, a smug part of me knowing that he would be severely disappointed when he finds out that I was not even the least bit ticklish.

He moved to gently attempt to tickle my sides again as I remained stoic, shock washed upon his face as he backed away landing on his backside so he mirrored my position and jabbed a finger in my direction.

“Monster! You’re not human!”

I felt my restraints weakening at his remark and I beamed at the man, knowing that this was a freakish quality that I had always been quite proud of.

“You’re not human either, you doofus” A sleek voice echoed in the forest like area as I my eyes flickered to a slicked back looking man standing before me with an outstretched hand.

“How-“ I gratefully took the hand, knowing that I had been sat for quite a while in this weird place.

“All will be explained, but please excuse one of our younger members, he’s a bit irrational”

“OK?”

He leant forward slightly, offering me his arm, which I almost clung too as I realised my legs weren’t that functional at the moment.

“My name is Suho, and I’m in charge of these kids, so please have some sympathy” He had a permanent smile etched onto his face, and I was pretty sure that this was just a manners thing, but at least it wasn’t his life goal to annoy the confused girl that fell out of the sky.

We were walking towards a clearing, where there seemed to be a house of sorts, and as we got closer, more shadows appeared near windows, and my grip on his arm tightened.

He didn’t mention anything about the death grip that I had on his arm as he led me through arched doors into what I assumed was the back of the house, letting me instead bask in the grandeur of the interior in silence.

He paused before two large office doors, and turned to face the man in the forest that had followed us in, “Tell the other’s that I think it is time for a group meeting”

His movements were swift but firm, and I soon found myself pushed into one of the six seats gathered before a mahogany desk.

“There’s going to be a lot that you’ll have to take in, but trust me when I say that we’re not insane” At this point, I wasn’t sure if his smile was legitimate or just a grimace at the stink eye I was giving him.

I knew he wasn’t going to say much until whoever else lived here also arrived, so I resorted to counting the books on the book shelf behind him.

There was always a nagging feeling in my brain questioning why I was still sitting here listening to a man that could possibly be wanting to harvest my organs. I had never drunk alcohol in my life so I’m guessing my liver would go first.

I heard a chuckled from the other side of the room, as Suho seemed to remember some sort of joke.

“Livers go for a couple thousand, not that expensive, your kidneys however…”

I was still shocked that there was a possibility that I could’ve said that aloud but was quickly interrupted as the oak doors swung open yet again, revealing a rather tall man flanked by a large entourage.

“What’s up my main bitch?”

He placed himself in the seat beside me, and threw an arm over the back of mine, ignoring the fact that I was close to peeing my pants when I caught a glance of the blood red eyes that stared back.

“One day Sehun, you’ll learn to respect your elders” The put together Suho that I had seen outside didn’t seem so put together as the noise level rose as more and more people piled in.

When the last person seemed to have perched themselves onto a seat he opened his mouth and stood up as if to make his gesture more dramatic.

“Meet the last and final Electus”

A few splutters could be heard as my shocked gaze landed on the slightly smirking man behind the desk.

“Who? Her? Are you insane Suho? We literally just got the signal, and you think it’s this nobody?”

“Excuse me-“ I started, wanting to give this man who had yet to introduce himself a piece of my mind.

“Silence”

The room hushed significantly as all eyes – mine included- turned to stare at the leader.

“Y/N is not just our average Electus, but she’s the key to our puzzle.”

“How do you know my name?” I almost cried in success, as that was one of the first sentences that they had let me finish.

“She knows nothing about us, and you think that we can make this work?”

“We’ll just have to fill her in then”

Suho had manoeuvred around his desk at that and motioned for them all to stand. They had automatically sectioned off into a few groups, and the leader like man made his way to the first one on my left.

“Sehun” He gestured to the youngest looking man in the room, with baffling looking hair, that seemed to defy the laws of gravity, and a shade of impressive grey/blonde. “He's our only defence against the advancing technology these days, of course when he isn't too busy gaming”

“Tech support” Someone coughed from the other side of the room, and I chuckled at that one, eyeing the occasional wire that seemed to peek out from Sehun’s clothing.

“M’lady” Sehun tipped an imaginary hat, as Kai snorted and smacked his friend around the head.

Amused, Suho moved in front another duo as they sidled up next to each other, mock saluting him.

“This is Baekhyun, and you’ve met Chanyeol”

“Papi” He corrected, and sent me one of the most exaggerated winks I’d ever seen.

“Useless at almost everything, but these guys always seem to find themselves helping when we need them the most”

“You know you love us” Baekhyun replied, laughing at the growing stormy look on his leader’s face.

"This is Kai, not the nicest guy around the block, but he's our one and only field agent, he's what we would say efficient at his job" The stern looking man that had woken me up simply nodded in my direction before resuming to stare intently at something on the ceiling.

“And all we have left is the brute force guy. Kind of scary when WWE season comes, but he's harmless if you get to know him”

He was small in stature, and almost cute, if not for the fact that the grip that he had on my hand was almost crushing it, "Kyungsoo's the name"

After registering the six men in the room, my brain finally relented, and I could feel myself becoming more and more tired, “And I need to know because…?” It was all great being let into this kind of spy society thing they had going on, but I needed to get home soon.

“Well one of us is your soulmate”

#exo fanfic #exo #sehun #sehun fanfic #exo scenario #sehun scenario

[mysteriouslyzealouspandalov-blog]

This mom left an abusive relationship and fell into poverty. Here's how she got out.

New Post has been published on https://relationshipguideto.com/must-see/this-mom-left-an-abusive-relationship-and-fell-into-poverty-heres-how-she-got-out/

This mom left an abusive relationship and fell into poverty. Here's how she got out.

Almost 10 years ago, Stephanie Land and her baby daughter Mia had no choice but to check into a homeless shelter.

Stephanie was fleeing an abusive relationship. She had no family to turn to, and she couldn’t afford a place of her own. For the next three months, she and Mia lived in the Port Townsend homeless shelter in Washington.

Stephanie knew she needed help — and that’s why one of the places she turned to was the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP).

Applying for SNAP benefits can be an an ordeal under the best circumstances, but it was even more challenging for Stephanie because she lacked internet access. Thankfully, her persistence paid off and she soon began receiving benefits to help her pay for food.

Photo via iStock.

Her SNAP benefits were usually $200 to $300 a month — a mere $7 to $10 a day — and it was often all she had to pay for food.

But the SNAP benefits went a long way for her family. Mia was a picky eater, so Stephanie had to get creative to make sure she was getting as much nutritious food as she could afford. Sometimes that meant adding vegetables and a homemade sauce to packages of instant ramen to get Mia to eat them.

It was a process, but ultimately, SNAP, along with other welfare benefits like health care and child care, helped them stay afloat while Stephanie looked for work.

Photo via iStock.

Unfortunately, looking for work was easier said than done during the 2008 recession.

“All the jobs that were available during normal child care hours were more professional jobs,” Stephanie recalls.

The only jobs she could get were entry-level, minimum-wage jobs that usually involved her working late hours, when affordable child care services are rarely available.

This balancing act of working low-paying jobs, caring for her daughter, and living on welfare wore on Stephanie. But she knew that college could be her ticket out of it.

The Land family in their studio apartment in low-income housing. Photo via Stephanie Land.

Stephanie applied for and received the Pell Grant and the Women’s Independence Scholarship, which helps survivors of domestic violence pay tuition. She also took out student loans.  

While these helped significantly, she had to keep working because the federal benefits she needed to survive — like food stamps — would only continue if she was working at least 20 hours a week.

As a full-time student and single mom, working that much proved near impossible. But Stephanie kept pushing forward, relying on her resourcefulness and persistence to make it to each next day.

“I learned the only person I really had to depend on is myself,” she says.

Stephanie Land. Image via Stephanie Land/Stepville.

Stephanie didn’t feel comfortable turning to friends for support during this time because she knew some of them believed that people who rely on federal benefits are lazy, entitled, and refuse to work hard.

It’s a hurtful stigma and, unfortunately, one that many believe about people who have no choice but to rely on programs like SNAP.

“Being on food stamps and on Facebook at the same time, you learn what your friends really think of people on welfare,” Stephanie explains. “You learn pretty quickly not to offer that information readily.”

While Stephanie is proof positive that this stigma’s message is false, she still felt embarrassed about needing federal assistance. In fact, it was that discomfort that made her all the more determined to change her situation.

After six years of hard work, she graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English and started making a living wage writing.

Stephanie and Mia. Photo via Stephanie Land.

She wrote about various aspects of her day-to-day life, like working as a house cleaner and being a single mom living on $6 a day.

“I found a niche that not too many people can write about from a first-person perspective,” Stephanie says.

She can  provide a window into a world that’s often just speculated over rather than clearly seen. Many people push away the idea of poverty because they want to believe it could never happen to them. Through her insightful writing, though, Stephanie has proven no one is immune.  

“While it’s terrifying to come out and openly admit those things, it was also something people needed to read about,” Stephanie says. “Especially from someone who doesn’t fit the stereotypical image of what people connect with someone living in poverty.”

When an article Stephanie wrote for Vox about cleaning houses went viral, she got a call from a well-known literary agent the same day asking to sign her. A year later, she was offered a book deal.  

Today, Stephanie lives in her first real house with her two daughters.

“It was quite a moment finally watching my girls play in a backyard,” she recalls.

But, she says, she’ll never forget those years she lived in poverty.  

Stephanie with her daughters Coraline (left) and Mia (right). Photo via Stephanie Land.

She’s written about her experience for a number of publications, including The New York Times and The Washington Post. She’s also a regular writer for the Center for Community Change, whose mission is to help improve low-income families’ lives. And she’s received a number of emails from people who were, or currently are, dealing with the issues she’s faced, thanking her for giving them a voice.

As a result, she looks at the world through a different filter — one of compassion for everyone she comes across.

“I try not to make any assumptions about other people’s lives because it’s so easy to suddenly be in that place where you have nowhere to go,” Stephanie explains. “And you never know who’s going through something like that.”

If you or someone you know is living in poverty or with food insecurity, a good first step for them to take is to call 211 or check out 211.org online. There, you can find information about the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) as well as many other federal assistance programs.

Read more: http://www.upworthy.com/

[tracyinpolaroids]

A thing I wrote on March 15, 2018. Completely forgot about this until I dug it up in my Notes. *** "You hurt yourself, and for what? What do you get out of it?" "In our time, tattoos were just something you got if you were in prison." This is how my parents view tattoos, if not just mine. They see them as painful, unnecessary, and meaningless. I got my first tattoo on March 4, 2017—what would have been my wedding day. I had made up my mind about it months prior, when the pain of the breakup was still very fresh, and the days a little surreal. I'd be going through work days like I normally would, driving to school and walking between the department and my classrooms. But on the inside, I was numb and floating, my brain sometimes operating on autopilot as my body carried me to the places that required my attendance. Focusing on tasks was a chore, which was especially problematic for me because I was a first-time thesis adviser. I was a little surprised I managed to get through my Japanese classes quite well—but I guess this is because the brain functions differently when you're trying to learn something new or processing language. I had come from Japanese class the day I got my tattoo. I went up to the shop, housed on the second floor of a bar, a little nervous but determined. It helped that the people around me were very warm and friendly and reassuring. I gripped the pillow wrapped in plastic (for hygiene purposes, I'm sure) tight when I heard the buzz of the needle and as soon as it hit skin, I let out a scream. It was like jumpstarting a car. When I first decided I'd get this done, the thought in my head was that I needed to manifest the emotional pain I felt somehow, because it was difficult just keeping it in your chest, in your heart. It was heavy and irritating. When Ana, my tattooist, started inking the stencil on my shoulder, the pain shot through me like I was struck by lightning. The pain was never more real, and it went on until finally it became like dull scratching. When it was done, I looked at my work inked for me on my shoulder blade and felt a wave of calm and a jolt of excitement at the same time. It was painful, that I do not doubt. I have a low tolerance for pain, and never liked getting shots or having blood drawn. But besides the fact that I elected to "hurt myself" in this way, it wasn't the kind of hurting that was masochistic or to numb whatever pain and heartache I was feeling. If anything it was to draw out that pain—to make it more real, more tangible that I could taste it and hit it and rip it into a million little pieces. So it was, as I deemed for myself, necessary. After getting my tattoo, I felt like I had some control over my life again, relinquishing the autopilot and actually feeling my boots push on the gas pedal of my car, my jacket hem brushing against my hand as I swung my arms while I walked from the faculty parking lot up to the department. The weight in my chest lightened significantly, and focusing was easier. It's been a little over a year since I got inked (I had another one done on my wrist a few months after), and I sometimes forget I have it. But when I come out from having a shower wrapped in nothing but a big soft towel, I catch a glimpse of it in the mirror. I stop for a minute to just look at it, run my fingers over the skin now forever black with lines and words, and thank myself for the little reminder etched on my shoulder that I could do whatever the hell I want, simply because I can. So my tattoo is hardly meaningless. It's something highly personal that I imagine people who choose to get one done put at least some thought into it. Unless they're drunk, I suppose. Some people say it's art you can carry with you all the time. It is. Some would say it's a form of expression, not too different from coloring your hair a bright shade of red. It is. Some would say...it's just cool. And it is. When I was in high school, I often juggled with the notion of getting a tattoo. It definitely had that "cool" factor which appealed to the young wannabe-rockstar that I was. But I also hated needles, so I would think twice about it. But now, as a 29-year-old with a little too many emotional struggles jammed into two years, I understand the appeal. To be brave enough to face and accept the pain, to be committed enough to have something inked onto you for the rest of your life, to be yourself enough to know that this isn't for nothing. "Isn't it difficult to hide?" "I don't have to." You don't keep art pieces locked away in storage, or wear hats every time you go out after you dye your hair a fun color. Along with the commitment to a lifelong visual expression on your skin should come the attitude of owning it—of unashamedly letting it be seen if it can be. Whether it's a testament to your resilience, a philosophy you live by, or even a lovely art piece, these are extensions of ourselves we shouldn't have to tuck away.

#tattoos #personal