#Fat people are wonderful and it is such a blessing to live in a world with such a huge range of different bodies!

[featheredadora]

#art #fat positivity #body positivity #positivity #birblr #canary #doodle #Sorry I'm a bit all over the place at the moment guys #Had to spend time with my partner's fatphobic family #And I know I'm a thin guy so I am not like directly hurt by the things they believe #But it still was just an awful experience and I'm still kinda feeling that #And it infuriates me that me standing up for what's right is always framed as me being a delicate sensitive anorexic #You should treat fat people nice because they are people and deserve basic decency #I am not being overly sensitive by not wanting to hear your fatphobic crap #You're just not nice people #/rant over #Sorry for my little outburst guys! I am usually an easy going guy #I just get really riled up about this stuff #Fat people are wonderful and it is such a blessing to live in a world with such a huge range of different bodies!

[johannestevans]

its so funny when ppl talk about men in their 40s/50s+ as like. being these horrible unattractive monsters when its like. im sorry but theyre often physically way more attractive than same age contemporaries to me but also like. you can see how much sex isn't in the equation

like ppl go "oh these gross 50yo men want to fuck young people" yeah. thank god. what a great world we live in. papaw has 30 years of sexual experience and his ED means he'll go down on you for 30 minutes before he fucks you for 40 more, his fat tits bouncing. what a blessing

like yeah ive had wonderful relationships, sexual and otherwise, with older men in my community where i've learned a lot and taught them a lot and cared and felt cared for but more importantly. the sex is so good

#musings

[ghouljams]

hi ghoul it's my birthday today!!!! Vv proud of myself as I never thought I would've made it this far and I can honestly say that one major thing that has helped me escape reality and live is reading. I was always one of those weird quite kids in school who carried around a fat ass fantasy novel and ate during lunch and tbh I didn't care about what anyone thought of me bc books were all I needed! That stayed the same as I grew up and def became much better once I discovered Tumblr and ao3 (I feel like it is such a pivotal moment in so many girls lives I honestly can't rmb what I did without this site) and then I found you and I just want to say that you so so much for your beautiful writing it has honestly saved me in so many ways and you too have just been the sweetest soul ever (I have sent a few asks the past months and all your responses have just been the most encouraging things ever) you are a blessing to this world and i hope you have only good things coming your way❤️❤️❤️

Happy birthday!!!

I carried around 3 books in my backpack during high-school, read while I walked and never bumped into anyone! People used to jump in front if me and try to trip me. We are kindred spirits.

Thank you for your kind words, I am a person who is always growing and learning. Both with my ability to be kind and my ability to write. I hope you have/had a wonderful birthday!

#ghoul speaks

[casperleghosty]

Daycare SAGAU start idea

(This Idea is now living rent free in my grey mass I call a brain, do what ever u want from this intro fanfic idk might make more, but since its 1AM here i need my sleep, see ya later :P)

  It was a sunny day in Tyvat, the land of the world's largest rpg, which for some reason decided to suck you in so you could live the rest of your now immortal life surrounded by your so-called acolytes, showering you with affection and adoration to no end.

  Not that you mind being a Gen Z teen; just being on the verge of adulthood sounded difficult enough, but now? You get to have tea with Diluc and Zhongli, who are both great company; play pranks with Itto and Venti when you don't want to attend those boring asses meetings all day since they want the so-called blessed knowledge from their grace; eat and cook with Xiangling; and more! 

  At this moment you were attending to one of those meetings at the time, but this one was different because the ones that bore you like a math book where your teacher just keeps repeating the same shite over and over are for the high-ups, let's say, such as leaders, or sometimes, when times are tough, even the archons attend to help you out. 

  But this one?

  It was a public one in which the townsfolk of the nation you are visiting come together so you can help them out, be it with little fights over who did this or that or plans to expand or better the city or village so they could live better and have a more promising next generation, it was a great opportunity for the people to be in the same place as their beloved golden sun, in the most beautiful garden of their great palace, where their god generously let them in to enjoy the scene of the wonderful smell of the vast collection of flowers and calm scenery while they wait for their turn to present their struggles to their grace.

   "Next please." One of your ladies in waiting said this while another poured some tea into your cup for you to sip on; it was a hot day, and they didn't want you to go thirsty while attending to your duties outside. 

   "Good morning, dear one blessed by the sky above, I hope you could help this servant of yours in need of thy help," said a woman dressed in a green gown with floral designs. The woman said she clasped her hands together and looked at the foot of your chair, not daring to glance at her creator without consent.

   "Good morning to you too, my child. What can I help you with, dear one?"

   "My liege, please hear mine and my village's sorrows; we've been having crop problems and are afraid we won't be able to feed ourselves; please, dear grace from above, lend us some of your merciful tears above our land, and help these servants grow and prosper in the ground you've given us." She pleaded

   You were about to respond softly when you felt a tug on your slippery robes and saw a child no older than a five-year-old. Said child looked up and said, "Please help us, mama is worried so much, now mama doesn't smile like she used to." 

   Silence

   Everything came to a halt as the mother of said child tried not to shake in so much fear; how could she have been so careless, allowing her child to come so close to you, have the audacity to even touch you, or speak to you so casually? 

   "Please forgive me for abusing your sacred boundaries our grace!" She exclaimed, "I'll take any punishment you see fit to give me for my carelessness!"

   Glancing at the child and at the mother, seeing the adult so scared for no reason made you giggle, confusing the guests and your servers alike. I mean, getting punished for a cute little kid like this, what in the world was in the heads of these people?

   Piking up the child from beneath their arms, you let the little girl sit on your lap, bob your legs up and down, making a rocking motion, the child laughing, which made your heart melt. I mean, how could you not? The kids' cheeks were so fat you just wanted to squish them!

   "So your mama is all worried she can't smile much, huh?" You asked, "We need to make her smile a lot now, don’t we?" You said, making the child's eyes light up with joy, "Can you make mama happy again?" and "Sure you can, here." You said grabbing a bit of the water that had been heated up from the tea your maids were making, making it float and evaporate into a fluffy white cloud, and giving said cloud to the child, "This is a magic cloud; it will make your mama and everyone happy for a very long time, sweetpea," you said, placing the child down and nudging her back to her mother.

   Said child hugged you, saying "thank you" into your body, making it sound a bit muffled before running to her mother's arms. "Look, mama, the cloud is so soft and fluffy!" her child said with a huge smile on her face.

   "Thank you so much, dearly beloved! Oh, thy heavens' grace are so kind!" the woman exclaimed, bowing down with tears in her eyes, and then the mother and child returned, bringing the day of this meeting to an end.

   It was a good day. There wasn't much to solve besides that problem with almost no rain in that woman's village, and after a while of replaying the moment of the child in your arms, it made you think, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have a playground in that garden? If there were any parents that had to take their children with them for those meetings , they are bound to get bored, so why not? 

   And so next morning you told your servants to build a playground for the children, one in each of the palaces you own across all of Teyvat, so that if you were visiting other nations, the kids would have endless fun no matter where they were from!

   Plus, it could be a good distraction from all the formalities because, let's be honest, these people sometimes don’t know how to relax around you.

#genshin impact #daycare #wholesome #sagau idea #idea #fic ideas #god reader

[persephinae]

When you have low grade depression you don't realize you're depressed

"Other people have it worse." "I laugh all the time! I don't fixate on suicide at all!"

But you hardly ever leave the house, and you're tired all the time. You don't have energy to go do things, just doing the bare minimum of going to work, doing your laundry, cleaning, and getting groceries is about all you can manage because those are necessary and that's all you have energy for.

So you do the bare minimum for years and you're so tired. All. The. Fucking. Time. No matter how much or how little sleep you get, it's never enough. Maybe once in a blue moon you actually feel rested and refreshed, and you wonder "is this what normal people feel all the time??? ALL THE TIME??? THEY CAN JUST DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT???"

And it's never just "teehee! I'm so sleepy! 🤭" it's a bone weary tiredness that never goes away. If you could just go into a coma for 500 years, MAYBE you'd finally feel rested an refreshed. Maybe.

Sometimes you're so tired in your soul that you can barely focus at work even though you got 8 hours of sleep.

But you go back to being tired and you're in survival mode. Other people have it worse. So you just deal and carry it. You're not depressed. You know something is wrong but you can't be depressed because you laugh a lot.

But you're so tired and you never do anything or leave the house. It's much too much effort, and you give yourself all sorts of reasons why you're justified in not doing anything. "It's been a hard week, I don't have the energy. It costs money, so I'm saving money just staying home (but you buy little treats online)."

Everything in the world is so fucked up, your friends are hurting too, other people have it worse. So you carry it and you carry it. You don't recognize the weight of what you're carrying because you've been this way for years. Fish don't have a word for water. You just carry it all. You're just trying to survive and get through the day, week, month, year.

But you're tired. And you're so fucking tired of being tired. And as a woman (speaking from my experience) you're IGNORED by doctors anyway. You go to see the many doctors over the years, crying, "there's something wrong (there's many things wrong)." But they shrug, pat you on the hand, and tell you, "It's just you. Try losing weight. $200 please."

But you can't lose weight. You have other health problems (that doctors don't give a shit about) and you're fucking TIRED. You're beating a dead parrot on the counter, telling them this parrot is dead/I'm TIRED, I don't have ENERGY to exercise. But they still shrug and tell you to lose weight. All your problems will 🌈⚡️🌟💫 ~ MAGICLY ~ 💫🌟⚡️🌈 be solved if you just fucking lost weight you fat cow! 😉 and you have all of society TELLING you that all of your problems will be solved if you lost weight. You're lazy!!! And even when you DO lose weight (because you managed to escape the source of what initially made you depressed) it's STILL not enough and they'll tell you to go lose more. You're not skinny enough.

But you are so tired. You dread each morning before work and go through the 5 stages of grief as you wake, because you hate your job and your life, but you're stuck in capitalistic hell where you have to work at jobs you hate. And if you live in america you can never afford any of your dreams because fuck you for being poor. You're fucking tired. And when you're off work, and if it was a really shitty day, you may take a nap because you're so fucking tired.

And maybe you have new, huge stressors in your life, maybe you started a new job, maybe there's a family situation, and it just piles on to your current stress. You are like a dung beetle, pushing that ball of stress as you scuttle across the desert of your life. And you carry it. Other people have it worse. You're blessed really. So what if you never go out and do anything.

So now that I've been on medication for SAD/depression I can tell you that that ever-present feeling of being bone weary fucking tired is not normal and it could be a sign of depression that you're unaware of.

The first day of being on this medication felt like a weighted blanket on my brain, ordering me, "You need to chill out now." But after the first day or 2 the side effects go away.

And you may think to yourself, "But I don't feel cured? I'm not out here jumping for joy." But you finally may have energy to tidy up your room, that you've been putting off for months because "I'll get to it later" (and later never comes). You may find yourself dusting and doing the little cleaning that you put off. Maybe you finally tackle that pile of junk mail you've been meaning to shred. You may still feel tired or sleepy but you don't feel bone crushingly tired to your soul.

So all this to say, if you've ever felt like I've felt maybe talk to your doctor about steps you can take to feel better. Decide to yourself "I'm tired of feeling tired. I want to try to get my shit together (again)."

Success may not be overnight, and you may stumble trying to find a solution and get well, but if you take those few steps (even though you've been disbelieved before), if you're willing to try, and even if you have no emotional support, then I'm proud of you. This is an important step you took for yourself and I'm really proud.

tumblr note: this is speaking from my own experience hoping to shine a light for other people with similar experience. Please speak to your doctor or therapist with any questions. 💫 Do not derail. 💫 Just make your own damn post if you feel you have to nitpick. I don't want to read it. Thank you. 🤝🫶

#mental health #depression #fuck it I'm writing this anyway #long post

[themaresnest-dumblr]

'Uh, To Steve Wright … Burn In Hell - FOREVER!' (Hang The DJ! Hang The DJ! Hang The DJ!)

Every Toy Dolls fan in the world has long waited for this day.

We don't forgive, and we don't forget.

Steve Wright was an atypical ultra-prick who believed if you weren't wearing the latest fashions and poodle haircuts you shouldn't be even allowed outside. Toadying to rich 'artists' and rich record labels, whilst using his platform on BBC Radio One (paid for by the general public via taxation) to sneer at every independent act on the block.

Lampooned by Viz Comic in Steve Wright and His Sycophantic Shite, the band The Smiths even tore the f**ker a new one on one of their biggest hits 'Panic!' when he started having a good at them largely because Steve Wright thought Morrissey was gay (a frequent running theme of this odious creep on his radio shows and TV appearences - at least until gay bashing because very 'uncool' upon the death of Freddie Mercury from AIDS).

What seemed to particularly annoy Wright and the rest of the London ivory tower set in the so-called 'affluent eighties' was acts daring to talk about like outside of tinseltown London. The world he wished would just go away - unless it was to clean his house or sell him a burger.

Much of the rest of the country, especially north of the Watford Gap, lived in poverty and squalor - the world bands like the Smiths and the Toy Dolls came from, and each in their own way sang about.

People like the Toy Dolls' 'Dougy Giro', about a young homeless man from Hendon, like so many in the north east at that time (and little has changed).

'You can't guess what life for Dougy is like, he wakes up in the street, No home, no bed, he says he's lucky That he can smile and be happy ...'

Wright's ire towards the Toy Dolls was due to their surprise Christmas 1984 double A-Side hit 'Nellie The Elephant' and especially 'Fisticuffs In Frederick Street' which lampooned Newcastle's Fosters Club - an atypical 'Meat Market' where youngsters on minimum wage wearing clothes they'd gone heavily into credit card debt for drunk overpriced 'designer' beers and cocktails because glossy magazines and celeb culture lied to them this is what they needed to do to become 'successful in life'

(Needless to say it didn't, and most who bought into that crap wound up broke and broken by their thirties).

'Fosters Club was full up to the brim. Everybody risking life and limb and just to go and pose at the disco but posing wasn't easy. and the D.J. he got queasy, blow by blow...'

The sort of lifestyle talentless pricks like Wright on fat BBC contracts cheerfully promoted as 'aspirational'.

Suffice to say, violence outside these clubs became increasingly prevailent from a heady combination of alcohol mixed with dreams vaporising in the cold realities of a nation where selfishness and shallowness had become increasingly prevailant.

Little wonder Morrissey retorted to Wright in 'Panic.'

'Burn down the disco, Hang the blessed DJ! Because the music that they constantly play, It says nothing to me about my life. Hang the blessed DJ! Because the music they constantly play ...

On the Leeds side streets that you slip down, Provincial towns you jog 'round,

"Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ!" '

And now this sevile sycophant, awash in his own self pity, has croaked it on the eve of the Toy Dolls latest world tour - bloody marvellous timing!

Good riddance, you sycophantic shite!

#steve wright #rot in hell #toy dolls #the smiths #Youtube

[girl-bateman]

Implications of Mortality (Nathan x Simon)

Read on AO3

ACT I

Nathan has never much cared for the supposed cosmic meaning of life. While others have driven themselves mad with the philosophical idea of what life really is and how best to live it, Nathan has spared himself the headache. Rather than analysing, he's tackled the issue on a more practical level; experiencing life rather than defining it. And by experiencing, he very much is referring to snorting coke off of a couple of bare tits, among other things. Nathan reasons it's a much more valuable use of his time than "thinking" or whatever it is boring people do.

Whenever Nathan does think about life, his own more specifically, it never ends well. He feels nauseous, his head filled with voices he can't recognise as his own, taunting him until he’s forced to drink himself to sleep. He has always maintained that immortality is the superior superpower, no doubt from the A-list, but sometimes he can't help but feel like it's a curse more than it is a blessing. He should do something with this, should he not? Solve world hunger or cure cancer? Do something extraordinary with all that time, with the infinity he possesses. The universe sure has a sick sense of humour, giving immortality to the one person who's sure to waste it.

Kelly is worried about him. It's been about a year since community service ended and she technically has no obligation to give a shit about him anymore. And yet, with steady intervals she makes sure to visit him, usually bringing stale sandwiches or cold french fries. It's nice in its own way, but he suspects Kelly has been noticing the way he's constantly hiding a hangover whenever she's over and he hates the idea of her pitying him.

You don't need to be a mind reader to notice the way Nathan's cheeks have sunken in, the dark bags under his eyes defining his face in a way they never used to. He barely recognises himself anymore. When he looks at himself in the mirror the creature looking back seems more helpless and tragic than Nathan cares to admit. It has these sad eyes, questioning, as if it too is wondering who is looking back. Maybe Kelly is right to worry.

At least he's not homeless anymore. He's found himself a shaggy flat in the outskirts of Thamesmead, sharing it with Greg, proud Reddit monitor and probable cyberbully, his beard perpetually greasy and his look bored. Nathan has a twisted liking for the bastard, his lack of personal hygiene and social life making Nathan out to be a functioning member of society in contrast. His radiating loser vibes are so strong they cancel out Nathan's own ones, and he couldn't be more grateful. They usually communicate in nods of acknowledgement and the occasional knock on the wall if Nathan’s being too loud with whatever girl he’s brought home. It’s not ideal but it's better than the streets, better than the community service building even if he admittedly misses it sometimes. He often thinks about those early community service showers, irregular water pressure and shit temperature but a peaceful quiet surrounding him. To be alone in a big room like that, it was freeing somehow. Very different to the claustrophobic shower in the apartment, Greg knocking on the door as soon as he thinks Nathan’s wasting the warm water.

He's on his fifth job since community service ended, sorting mail four days a week. The repetitive motions of the machines, the mail moving forward in an endless loop, is calming but it also makes Nathan want to die a little bit. Not in a tragically suicidal “too good for this world”, Virginia Wolf, makeup running down his face, sort of way. He feels more like a fat hamster pressing its skull against the bars of its cage harder and harder until it splits open like a balloon. But other than that he’s doing great, he's fine.

Nathan is lying down in his bed waiting for the three ibuprofens he just swallowed to take effect when he hears a gentle knock on the door in the hallway. He curses quietly to himself. It’s not that he doesn't want Kelly to visit, he loves her visits, but he feels like he's one second away from puking up his brains and his entire head is pounding like that fat suicidal hamster has trapped itself behind his cranium, trying to gnaw its way out to freedom. It takes another knock for Nathan to force himself out of bed, slapping himself in the face in a sad attempt to wake up. He opens the door and his artificial smile reserved for Kelly is replaced by a look of stupid surprise.

“Hello, Nathan.”

Nathan wonders if Simon's voice has always been that deep or if the boy’s gone through a second puberty. Can that even happen?

“Barry, fancy seeing you here.”

Simon smiles at that and Nathan feels that familiar sting of nostalgia. He remembers now, Simon’s always had one of those shy smiles, like he’s afraid of smiling too loudly, too dramatically. He’s dressed in a black, slim coat which Nathan thinks has the potential to be the basis for a nice flasher joke. Something, something, nice jacket, I bet you show your weiner to little kids (pause for laughter). But instead, he settles on an awkward smile, taking a step away from the door to let Simon into the apartment.

“This apartment is- it’s great that you have your own place,” Simon says once he's inside, neatly putting his shoes aside, “you should be proud.”

Nathan doesn't have the energy to give that a dignified answer so Simon continues, “I haven’t seen you in a while so I thought I’d..” he shrugs, looks away, “say hello.”

“Well…” Nathan tries to think of something clever to say but that pounding headache is making it impossible to produce a single coherent thought.

“It’s good to see you,” he settles on and he thinks it sounds a little too friendly for his liking but decides not to think about it too hard.

He leaves Simon in the hallway, escaping the awkwardness in hopes of finding something to offer from the kitchen that preferably hasn't gone out of date yet. His mission is however sidelined by the mountain of dishes that greets him by the sink. Neither he nor Greg acknowledge the dish-pile most days but suddenly, Nathan feels a wave of unfamiliar embarrassment in the presence of it so he does the sensible thing and opens the dishwasher, throwing everything inside, somehow without breaking anything.

“You want help?”

Nathan has forgotten how quiet Simon can be. Jesus, that guy is a creep sometimes.

"What have I told you about walking up on me," he scolds, slamming the dishwasher shut, effectively cleaning up the mess, or at least making it a mess for later.

He rattles through the cabinet, finding a couple of saggy bags of camomile.

"Tea?" He offers, feeling very mature with the suggestion. In this moment he’s the definition of a British gentleman, in fact, he's gonna knock Barry's fucking socks off with all his matureness.

"Sure," Simon shrugs, his socks un-knocked.

Nathan ignores the lack of praise, instead putting on the kettle, the obnoxious bubbling sound like tiny knives against his temple.

"Are you alright?" Simon asks, "you look a little pale."

Briefly, Nathan wonders if he should take another ibuprofen but decides against it. Simon looks worried as it is, no need to fuel his anxieties. Nathan guesses this is all Kelly’s doing. Evidently, she doesn't think that her constant checking-up on him is enough and now she’s forcing poor Simon to participate as well. Do I really seem that fucked up? he wonders briefly to himself.

"Just a headache, I was working late last night," Nathan lies.

Sure, if you could call doing repeated body shots and snorting coke off someone's boobs in the bathroom “work”, then Nathan certainly earned himself a promotion last night. He shivers a little as scenes from the party flash past in his mind- pulsing lights, deafening music, strangers in the dark. Why was he embarrassed in front of Simon, again? He was living the rockstar life while Simon probably spent his days jerking off under some office desk.

“Right, Kelly told me,” Simon remembers, “the second-hand store.”

“Sure.”

Nathan doesn't have the energy to correct him. The second-hand store was actually job number four in an increasing list of jobs he’s been fired from. That time it was due to a “poor sense of customer service” which was a translation for not letting every single know-it-all bastard who walked into the store have the satisfaction of completely butt-fucking him with their ridiculous demands. Nathan has learned the hard way that he did not do well in jobs where you had to talk to people, obey authority, take instructions or do anything even mildly challenging. Sadly he had the soul of a rockstar, just none of the talent to go along with it.

“Nathan?”

Simon looks concerned, he has that worried little wrinkle between his brows and Nathan can’t help but smile at its familiarity. Simon might have upgraded his hairstyle from a sad mop to a sexy mop and he’d learned that there were other clothing options than button-up shirts, but he was still the same old Simon.

“I missed you,” Nathan blurts out, then, hastily adding, “you little freak.”

He blames the headache, it's insistent pounding not doing any favours for his already distracted nature.

Simon looks a little uncomfortable at the admission, his pale cheeks turning an embarrassed shade of pink.

“You too,” he mumbles.

The water is finally done boiling and Nathan pours them some tea, praying that the cups have been cleaned at least sometime in the last decade. Simon seems to relax when he gets something to do with his hands, gently holding the sides of the cup even when he’s not drinking from it.

“You remember that girl you lost your V-card to?” Nathan reminisces fondly. He figures that's what normal people do when they meet up after not having seen each other for a year. Talk about treasured memories and whatnot.  

“What was her name again… Josy, Jessy, Jelinda-”

“Jessica?”

“Yes, sweet sweet Jessica!” Nathan confirms, “she was a little prude-ish if my memory serves me correct, but I guess that's a good thing. If she’d been a slag she would have probably shagged me instead.”

“We did it in the bathroom so at least she wasn't that much of a prude.”

“Barry!” Nathan gasps scandalously, unable to hide his proud grin, “you know you can catch some nasty stuff from those toilet seats, I hope you got tested.”

Simon gives him that shy smile again and shrugs sheepishly.

“What happened with her anyway, your toilet-fuck?”

“Jessica.”

“The virgin destroyer,” Nathan whispers dramatically.

Simon shrugs again, tapping nervously with his fingers against his teacup, “we were supposed to go on a date,” he says, “but she changed her mind, I guess.”

“Girls,” Nathan complains in lack of anything better to say, “who knows what they’re thinking.”

Simon gives him a weird look, “I don’t think that's exclusive to girls.”

“I guess it’s not.”

--

Later, once Nathan has sobered up and is sorting mail with music blaring through his headphones, he thinks of Simon. He doesn't remember asking Simon much about his life, if he still lived at home, where he was working, if he ever hung out with the rest of the gang, but now he finds himself desperately wondering.  Why had he not taken two seconds to just ask? Maybe it had been the hangover or maybe he was just a narcissistic prick. Either way, he damns his past self.

The sorting station is Nathan’s favourite. Everyone has their own little section to work on, sorting the mail according to the different postal numbers and putting them in different compartments depending on where they were to be sent next. You were technically only allowed to work with one headphone in (something about bullshit safety concerns) but during the one month that Nathan had worked there, no one had complained at his breaking of procedure. People didn't bother him much in general actually and Nathan found that he appreciated that.

He continues to think about Simon and he hates to admit it, but the weird kid really did look great. The sexy mop was working in his favour and the black coat, no matter the connotation to flashers, suited him. He looked like a detective in one of those predictable crime shows. Nathan can picture his cold eyes as he studies the latest victim lying in a pool of blood, their lips pale and eyes glazed over. He can almost hear Simon's apathetic, dark voice saying something cliche like “we were too late”, crouching down and closing the victim's eyes to honour them. He’d be a noble detective, a good guy, at least Nathan would like to think so. He knows Simon has done some less than legal stuff, but the weird kid has a good heart, if he didn't Kelly wouldn't be so protective of him.  

--

When Nathan gets home, he’s already longing for tomorrow to be over and for the weekend to start. There’s supposed to be a birthday party and Nathan doesn't exactly know who is being celebrated, he just knows there will be lots of drugs and booze and that's good enough for him.

“Nathan,” Greg says when he opens the door and it instantly puts Nathan on edge because they don't talk to each other, especially using first names.

“Your boyfriend came looking for you, left you some soup.”

Nathan feels his ears going warm and his physical reaction is even more embarrassing than the fact that he doesn't need to ask who the boyfriend in question is. There is only one person who'd be weird enough to leave him soup of all things. Unfortunately, Simon really does have a good heart and Nathan wishes he’d waste it on someone else.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Nathan mutters and walks to the kitchen in order to inspect this aforementioned soup.

It’s a brown mushroom soup decorated with fresh parsley and it's turned cold so Nathan guesses Simon must have come over just after Nathan left for work. There is a post-it note attached to the container reading:

“You seemed sick and I saw that you had no food in the fridge so I brought you some soup. Hope you feel better soon. /Simon.”

Nathan changes his mind, Simon isn't a good-hearted hero type, he is a full-blooded psychopath. What other explanation is there for such a bizarre action as bringing random soup to someone just because they look a little pale? The soup is probably poisoned or filled with the meat of his murder victims. Simon is probably Hannibal-ing him right now, that fucker.

He eats the soup anyway, and of course, it's delicious even if it's cold. He puts the container with the rest of the hidden dirty dishes and sneaks off to Greg's room. He knows there is a slight chance Greg might piss his pants at being interrupted in the middle of gaming but Nathan needs answers and his roommate is, unfortunately, the only witness to Simon's strange gesture.

"So, did he say anything? The kid who came with the soup?"

Greg doesn't look up from his computer screen but he doesn't sigh or groan out in irritation either which is a good sign.

"I don't know, mate, he didn't talk much," he says "just asked if you were home and when I said you weren't he asked if he could leave the soup in the kitchen."

"Then what?" Nathan presses on.

"Then nothing, he left," Greg shrugs, "ahhh, you bitch," he mumbles and Nathan assumes it's directed at the game and not him.

--

Two days later Nathan wakes up cold in a bed that definitely isn't his own. He’s not sure, but he suspects he has accidentally died at some time during the previous night. His limbs are uncomfortably stiff, his throat sore, and the throw up over his neck and pillow indicates that he probably suffocated choking on his own puke. He leaves before anyone forces him to clean it up.

On his way home, hands far down in his pockets to preserve some warmth in the unforgiving fall weather, he tries to remember anything from the night before. He knows the music was loud and the alcohol infinite, a small studio apartment filled with artistic hedge fund kids, many potential prey for a little drunken intimacy. Nathan also remembers being handed a pink pill and after that things turn blurry, like his memory is a roll of film someone has spilt acid over.

He smells awful and he's sure he came over to the party with more clothes than he's leaving in. If Simon comes over again, maybe he could convince him to use his invisibility to shoplift him a new jacket. “It doesn't work like that” would probably be his apathetic answer. Lame.

A shower and half a day of napping later, Greg shakes him awake.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles, trying to hide under the blanket, the harsh light from the window a rude reminder of the existence of time.

“Your boyfriend is here,” Greg says and that wakes up Nathan more than any shaking could.

“Barry?”

“No, Simon.”

“Shit,” Nathan pushes away the blanket from his body and nearly trips trying to step out of the bed, “distract him while I find some clothes.”

Greg gives him an unimpressed look, “I’m not your little maid, mate, entertain him yourself.”

Nathan groans, “if you do this little thing for me, I promise I’ll clean those stupid dishes.”

Greg, somehow, looks even more unimpressed, “you should already be doing that.”

“What do you want then?” Nathan spits, “you need me to blow you? Comb your beard? Sit in your lap and pretend to be an anime girl?”

“You could have just said please,” Greg mutters, but he walks out of the room and soon after that, Nathan hears awkward conversation coming from the kitchen. Perfect.

He hastily looks through his sad excuse of a wardrobe, picking out a couple of ripped jeans and a thin band tee, trying to channel a little bit of that rock-star essence. He double-checks himself in the mirror. Hair, beautiful. Cock, in. Fly's up.  

As soon as Greg spots him in the kitchen opening he rolls his eyes and leaves, not even properly finishing the conversation with poor Simon who is left looking a little confused. He smiles when he sees Nathan however, and Nathan thinks he might still be a little hungover because the insides of his stomach do a cartwheel.

“Are you stalking me, Barry?” he teases.

“I was in the neighbourhood,” Simon responds lamely, “you still look sick, are you feeling any better?”

Nathan sits down on the opposite side of the little table, his tall legs accidentally bumping into Simon’s knees.

“Did Kelly put you up to this, all this checking in on me?” he accuses and Simon instantly averts his gaze.

“No- well, no, but-” he stumbles, “she did tell me she was worried you weren't feeling well.”

“That bitch,” Nathan mumbles and Simon actually looks offended.

“She’s just worried,” he says defensively, “I am too,” he adds.

Nathan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly he feels less like an untouchable rock star and more like a teenage alcoholic with an endless future of no prospects.

“Did you people forget I am literally immortal,” he objects, “I could throw myself out that window and wake up the next day without a scratch.”

Nathan gestures towards the kitchen window for emphasis and Simon follows his finger, scanning over the parking lot outside. Perhaps he's picturing Nathan's lifeless body on the pavement, blood pooling below him, lips pale and eyes glazed over. We were too late.  

“But you wouldn’t, right?”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Throw yourself out the window.”

Nathan thinks he's kidding at first but is disappointed to be met with that same unfazed, apathetic look.

“Jesus, Barry,” he laughs hopelessly, “you really think I’m some tragic soul who just goes around dying for the fun of it?”

Simon doesn't answer, but his eyes move back to the window. Nathan sighs. This wasn't how he wanted things to go, not that he wanted them to go in any particular way or anything, but still.

“You don’t need to call me that anymore,” Simon says after a while and Nathan answers with a questioning hum.

“Barry,” Simon clarifies, “we’re not in community service anymore, you can call me by my real name.”

“Whatever you say, Barry.”

--

The next time Simon comes to visit, he's not alone. It’s a workday but Nathan doesn't start until 6.00 p.m. and he has spent the day numbly listening to the old records he managed to steal from the second-hand shop before he got fired. It's a confusing mix of 80’s rock and 60’s jazz, perfect for someone who’s only half-listening rather than actually enjoying the music. For once, he hasn't been drinking, but it has more to do with being too lazy to buy more alcohol and less to do with a wish for a sober and healthy lifestyle.

Nathan doesn't get any warning from Greg this time, his door is just rudely ripped open to reveal Kelly and Simon in the doorframe. Kelly doesn't waste time on pleasantries and instead just walks in like it is, and always has been, her room.

“What is wrong with you two,” Nathan protests, “I could have been wanking in here, at least knock.”

Kelly rolls her eyes and pushes Nathan’s feet aside to give herself room to sit down on the bed.

“Hi Nathan,” Simon gives him an awkward little wave before sitting down on the IKEA garden chair Nathan found in a pile of thrown away rubbish.

“I suppose you were just in the neighbourhood,” Nathan comments, giving them both a sour look that he doesn't really mean.

Simon blushes slightly but Kelly just huffs, annoyed.

"No, you dick, we came to cheer you up."

"Cheer me up?!" Nathan huffs, offended, “well I'm not in need of your services."

Simon pulls out a big chocolate bar, offering it to Nathan almost apologetically.

“We brought snacks."

"Correction- you brought a snack," Nathan mutters but accepts the chocolate anyway.

"So,"  Nathan says, taking a bite of the chocolate before passing it on to Kelly, "since you're here to cheer me up, tell me something cheery. Preferably involving nudity."

"Simon went on a date," Kelly offers and Simon blushes again.

"It's nothing serious," he dismisses but from the way he's avoiding Nathan's look, Nathan figures he's lying out of his ass.

He tries to, for once, not be a selfish arsehole and actually find joy in someone else's success, but there is nothing. It's like he's empty, devoid of anything human. That creature in the mirror is wearing his skin like an ill-fitted dress, speaking for him because it wants to practice being human. No one seems to notice, not even Nathan can tell them apart anymore.

“Well, don’t spare any details, loverboy,” he encourages.  He's almost proud of himself for sounding so much like himself.  

“Have you pissed on her tits yet?”

“Please spare some details,” Kelly half laughs, half groans, “the pissing thing is dead disgusting.”

Simon’s shy blush has now turned his entire face completely red. Nathan almost feels bad for him.

“I’m not pissing on anyone!” He reassures them, “we’ve only been on two dates.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Nathan murmurs, wiggling his eyebrows, “third date’s the sex date.”

“Shut up, Nathan,” Kelly says, giving Simon a pitying look, “he’s just being a prick, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Nathan makes a doubtful sound, earning himself a glare from Kelly.

“What,” he defends, “I just think if you don’t make a move by the third date, you send the signal that you're a pussy.”

“Dickhead,” Kelly shoves him, hard, then turns to Simon, “seriously, don’t listen to him, I don't think he’s ever even been on a real date.”

Nathan wonders who this mysterious girl is, he wants to ask but he's not sure if he’s really himself at the moment. Maybe this is what it means to be immortal, slowly having your life taken from you until you're observing every moment from the outside. Like an actor desperately wishing he could change his lines only to be spit in the eye by some sadistic director just for having an opinion. Forced to keep living but unable to take any part in it.

Kelly glances at him and Nathan reminds himself to not sound so depressed when he has mental monologues.

“She's right,” Nathan admits, “not about the dating stuff, I’ve been on plenty of dates, ask Greg, he can confirm it gets nasty in here.”

Kelly makes a grossed out sound but Nathan continues like he can't hear her.

“But you don’t have to have sweet, sexy intercourse with anyone you don't want to,” he says and he sort of feels like a lame sex ed infomercial.

Simon looks relieved however, and Kelly gives him an approving smile.

They sit like that for a while, passing the chocolate bar between themselves and talking shite. They speculate about whatever happened to Shaun, if he’s still a complete dick terrorizing teenage criminals or if he's run off to Brazil indefinitely. They argue about whether it's crazier to fuck a monkey or a grannie, Simon voting against Kelly, much to her disappointment.

“In my defence, he was really nice,” she pouts.

Kelly leaves around the time Nathan is supposed to go to work, leaving him and Simon alone in his room. Nathan knows he should do the responsible thing, tell his guests he appreciated their visit and excuse himself. But he doesn't. Instead, he gives Simon a meaningful look.

“Now that it's just us manly men in the room," he leans forward, "who is this new girl?"

Simon clears his throat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

"You're gonna laugh," he mumbles.

Nathan actually feels a little hurt by that. Once again, why he cares about Barry's loser-opinion of him is… weird. But there's no time to analyse that, instead he puts on a wounded face.

"Barry, when have I ever judged you?" he says seriously.

"Many many times," Simon answers, deadpanned.

"Well," Nathan argues, "I'm a changed man, my friend."

Simon gives him a doubtful frown but Nathan can see the gears in his head turning. Right now he's formulating whatever he's gonna say next, planning the exact word choice to best convey whatever it is he finds so hard to say.

"Let's just start with something easy. What's her name?" Nathan tries to help.

Simon hesitates a moment, then forces out a “Levi.”

“Huh,” Nathan raises an eyebrow, “your girl’s got kind of a masculine name, not judging though.”

“Nathan,” Simon says very seriously, “Levi is a man. I’m dating a man.”

Oh. Nathan feels like an idiot. To his credit though, he doesn't spew out any inappropriate comments, just makes a stupid looking o-shape with his mouth while staring at Simon with wide eyes.

“I was trying to tell you,” Simon stumbles, “I mean I was going to- I- I didn’t want you to make fun of me.”

Nathan nods. He tries to think of a funny joke but nothing pops up. Instead he feels gross, like his skin is turned inside out and everyone can see how nasty he is on the inside. He supposes this is what normal people call shame. Nathan can’t say he’s a fan.

“Considering I stuck my tongue in your throat that one time, I don’t think it’s fair to make fun of you, at least not about this,” he finally says and he can practically hear Simon exhale all that built-up anxiety.

“Besides,” he adds, “I might be an arse, allegedly , but I’m not a homophobic arse.”

Simon smiles at him and it's not one of his shy smiles, it's a proper, big one. Teeth and all.

“Thanks,” he says.

--

Nathan dreams of community service that night. They’re all there, the old gang back together, wearing their ill-fitted orange jumpsuits and wishing they could be anywhere else. They’re standing outside of the community service building and Nathan is being a prick like usual.

“Do you ever get depressed when you think about how useless your powers are?” He innocently asks Curtis whose face remains stoic, not taking the bait.

“I mean, sure, you can go back in time but not when you actually want to. It’s more inconvenient than useful actually,” he continues. He doesn't know exactly why it’s so important to get a rise from the other man, but he knows he has to. It’s a dickhead instinct he simply can’t ignore.

Kelly rolls her eyes while Alisha raises a curious eyebrow, wondering if the one-sided berating will turn into a fight. Probably hoping it will.

“It’s sort of sad,” Nathan says, faking sympathy, “you have this incredible gift but in your hands, it just becomes wasted. All that potential- for nothing…  Kind of like how you ruined the potential to be in the Olympics. Ironic, innit?”

“I’ll show you ironic,” Curtis bites out.

He pushes Nathan forward, hard, and the world turns into static. Nathan feels his body floating between time and space, the nothingness around him engulfing his very soul. The atoms in the air change and Nathan wonders briefly if this is what Curtis feels every time he goes back in time.

Light returns and the world turns back to normal, Nathan standing in the exact spot he did a couple of seconds ago. He doesn't know how he knows, (in hindsight he guesses it's just one of those dream things), but he’s sure Curtis, that bastard, has pushed him forward in time.

“Guys?” He shouts when he realises none of them are where they should be.

He's completely alone. Not a soul to be seen anywhere, the water still, untouched, and the building behind him quiet like death. Just when he begins to panic he spots a familiar, short frame, and Nathan instantly runs in his direction.

Simon is sitting with his legs in the water, looking out towards the grey apartment buildings on the other side of the lake. He ignores Nathan when he sits down beside him, his eyes fixated on that unmoving lake and those stupid blocks of cement.

“Barry,” Nathan exhales, “thank God, I was starting to think I was alone.”

Simon doesn't look at him when he answers.

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

“No worries, man. I found you, didn’t I?”

He reaches out to give the other man a friendly pat on the shoulder but freezes as he feels no resistance, his hand practically moving through air. Simon finally looks at him, his eyes big and tragic.

“I’m sorry,” he says again and Nathan finally gets it. The emptiness, the quiet, the complete lack of anything living.

“So,” he says, trying his best to sound unaffected, “we're in the future and everyone is dead. Brilliant. Love that for me.”

Simon turns back to the unmoving water and they sit still in the quiet. For a while it's almost pleasant, but then the panic creeps in and Nathan feels the longer he spends in this infinite silence, the closer this world gets to turning him into one of its quiet, unmoving pieces.

“Why can I only see you?” He finally asks, “if they’re all dead, where are they?”

“The reason you can see me and no one else is the same reason you can see anyone who’s passed on.”

“Way to be a smartass,” Nathan mutters and Simon actually laughs at that. He looks at Nathan like he knows the punchline to a joke Nathan is too stupid to get. He looks at him like can’t decide to pity him or make fun of him.  

“The people you see are those whose deaths you are responsible for.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Nathan protests.

“You don’t have to kill anyone to be responsible for their death.”

Nathan thinks back. Jamie, annoying hippie guy, sure they fit the pattern but wouldn’t that mean-

“I killed you?”

Simon smiles but it is neither shy nor big and proud. It's a sad smile that says the same thing Simon’s been repeating all throughout this stupid dream. “I’m sorry.”

“But how-” Nathan feels that panic closing in on him again, “sure, I can be an arse, but I wouldn’t do that, you’re my friend.”

He feels stupid for admitting that last fact but it’s true. He doesn't really know how it happened, their friendship, but it did, and now he's stuck with the consequences, the responsibility of it.

“No,” Nathan stands up. He can’t accept this, this impossible burden, this curse. It’s a lie, it has to be. Jamie said it wasn't his fault, didn’t he? And sure, it had felt too easy, but he had chosen to believe it, not knowing how to live with himself if he didn't. But maybe Simon is right. Maybe this is another cruel joke of the universe, to allow him the company of the dead, but only with the knowledge he is the reason for their misery. It is all his fault.

“You’re lying,” Nathan accuses, desperately clinging on to his own innocence, “you’re winding me up, this is you getting back at me for calling you a melonfucker all those times, isn’t it? I said I was sorry, what more do you want?!”

Simon smiles again, shaking his head like a parent does to a child who keeps asking braindead questions like “why is the sky blue and why won’t anyone tell me what happens when you die?”

He stands up beside Nathan, and the orange legs of his pants remain dry despite having been soaked in water mere seconds ago. Nathan wonders if it's easier being dead. You don’t have to worry about your clothes getting wet, about accidentally killing your brother, about saying the wrong things or falling for the wrong person.

“You don’t care about a single person but yourself,” Simon says simply, “you killed me with your selfishness and now you’re the only person you have left.”

Nathan doesn't know if Simon pushes him into the water or if he falls forward voluntarily, if somewhere in his mind he knows he deserves this. In the water he is back in the darkness. He can’t breathe and his body struggles to stay afloat, trying to swim back to the surface but not knowing which direction is the right one. He thinks he's sinking. Panic takes over completely as the darkness, the stillness, the quiet, captures him in its arms, possesses him completely.

Then he wakes up.

--

The next day Nathan has an early shift at work and maybe the universe has decided to be kinder to him than usual because no one seems to have made note of the fact that he didn't show up the day before. Maybe it’s one of those things where you’re silently observed on your mistakes until one day, out of the blue, you’re fired with no warning. Nathan supposes it doesn’t matter, he has an eternity to worry about boring jobs. What's the worst that could happen? He gets fired, he ends up on the street, he starves to death only to be resurrected the very next day. In the end it holds no lasting meaning, none of it does.

He keeps to himself, sorting those endless letters while blasting music in his ears and thinking about the dream. He can still see Simon before him, those tragic dead eyes, that pitying laugh. He’s not sure if he’s being stupid even considering the words of a ghost in a dream, but for some reason what Simon said has stuck with him. If Nathan can, supposedly, see dead people, why isn’t he seeing them constantly? Why has he only ever seen his little brother- the person he was supposed to protect. And that activist with the rattail who he might have let die because he momentarily forgot that he was immortal. On a technicality, ghost-Simons theory holds up and Nathan feels himself going a little crazy even considering it. God, he needs a drink.

After work he heads to the bar, hoping for some answers and to get rid of this torturous soberness. He relaxes as he sees a familiar face by the bar and Curtis gives him a lukewarm smile in return once he spots him.

“You come here for free drinks?” He asks and Nathan scoffs.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t use my friends like that,” he says, “besides, I’m economically independent now.”

Curtis rolls his eyes and gives him a free beer anyway.

“So,” he says, weirdly polite considering he never really liked Nathan, “what's new with you then?”

Curtis looks pretty much the same since Nathan last saw him. Same lanky runners-bod, same annoyed look on his face. He has a slight stubble now and a discrete silver ear piercing that matches his cross necklace. Nathan wonders if it's some sort of statement, if their little group is getting slightly gayer by the day. First Simon with his little boy-toy and now Curtis with this fierce rejection of traditional masculinity. What's next? Kelly and Alisha start a lesbian book club together while Nathan goes to watch a musical,  voluntarily .

“Not much,” Nathan responds, refraining from mentioning anything about the piercing, knowing he won't get many answers from Curtis if he’s all riled up.

“Actually, I came to ask you about something,” Nathan admits.

Curtis smirks, knowingly, “somehow I knew you didn’t just come here for a drink and a chat,” he says.

“It’s about your special…” Nathan lowers his voice to prevent any of the other drunks in the bar from hearing them, “powers.”

“Sure,” Curtis shrugs, “ask away.”

“So,” Nathan starts, “the whole rewind thing- does it work the other way around too? Have you ever been to the future or anything like that?”

Curtis gives him a weird look. He leans forward over the bar, lowering his voice as well.

“Why are you asking me about this, Nathan?”

“Can’t a fella just be a little curious?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warns.

“Alright, alright,” Nathan surrenders, “so I had this dream where you pushed me into the future, and I don’t know- I guess I wanted reassurance that it was just a dream and not some weird vision or something.”

Curtis fixates his eyes on Nathan, his dark eyes like lasers. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, mate,” Nathan says, leaning back to avoid his inquisitive eyes, “just the community centre and uh- Barry was there, but as a ghost I guess, it was sorta creepy.”

Curtis leans back too, “so this is about Simon?”

“No,” Nathan protests, “it's not about anyone. I just thought you might have known if it like… meant something.”

Nathan takes a big swig of his beer and Curtis pours up another one, "it doesn't mean anything," he says, "going to the future is impossible, at least with my powers."

He hands the beer over to Nathan who accepts it silently, setting the now empty glass to the side.

"I started running again by the way," Curtis continues. He says it like it's no big deal, like he doesn't care either way, but Nathan knows that's when you actually care the most. He wonders why he’s telling Nathan this, of all people. Maybe they don’t actually hate one another.

"I'm still on probation but I'm just doing it for fun," Curtis continues.

Nathan gives him an earnest smile, "hey, man, I'm proud of you,” he says, and, for once, he’s being genuine.

--

Nathan keeps himself moderately drunk after that, making sure he's at least intoxicated enough to avoid more weird dreams about ghost-Simon and his own inevitable, lonely future. When Nathan's drunk, he only ever has wet dreams or dreams he can't remember, neither of which he minds.

He goes to work on time and all hours he's not working he wastes his money on drugs and alcohol. It's a miracle he doesn't die again but his destructive behaviour has somehow alerted Greg who usually can't see beyond his own butthole. One day when Nathan is suffering from an especially nasty hangover, he asks him “you good, mate?” and if that's not a sign things are going downhill, Nathan doesn't know what is.

Simon tries to visit him but Nathan forces Greg to tell him he’s sick with some sort of highly contagious influenza that prohibits him from even saying hi. This earns Nathan more dish cleaning-duty as well as homemade mushroom soup. It’s not that he doesn't want to see him, of course he does. But for some reason he’s not feeling very keen to hear more about Simon and this new bloke he’s going out with. He’s gonna hear about it eventually, and he knows he won't be able to stop himself from asking about it either, his impulsive curiosity trumping his sense of self-preservation. But he truly dreads it.

Nathan isn’t homophobic, that's not what it's about. It's just that people who are in relationships, no matter gay or straight ones, are absolutely insufferable. The only thing they talk about is their partner, all the amazing things they do, and inevitably, all the shitty things they do. And as soon as things aren't going perfect they demand sympathy and advice from people like Nathan, never actually intending to take that advice to heart. It makes Nathan nauseous just thinking about, Simon taking cheesy pictures with this Levi, holding hands around town and giggling at some stupid inside joke. What kind of name is Levi anyway?

--

Two weeks pass before he gets a call from Curtis of all people.

“Come to the bar this weekend,” he says, “we were gonna meet up for drinks, you should be there too.”

Nathan thinks it over. On the one hand, it's been almost a year since he last saw the ASBO-five as a group and things might be painfully awkward, on the other hand, he feels like Curtis wouldn't call him unless he really did want him to come.

“Maybe I can swing by,” he settles on, “grace you people with my presence for a little while.”

“Sure,” Curtis says and Nathan can practically hear the eye-roll through the phone.

--

The rest of the gang is already halfway through their first drinks when Nathan arrives. He can tell even from a distance that Alisha is in the middle of a passionate retelling of something scandalous and possibly sexual. She's doing hand motions that sort of looks like she's cupping two boobs and Nathan adds this as evidence to his growing theory that their old gang is slowly getting gayer. She lights up when she spots Nathan and Nathan feels himself matching her big smile without even thinking about it. Last time they met they didn't even really say goodbye, just gave one another a nod in acknowledgement. He’s always liked her even though she's positively the most annoying person in the group (well, not counting himself of course). But they've never been friends, Alisha's made that very clear on numerous occasions, and yet here she is, smiling at him like she's actually happy to see him. She jumps off her seat and Nathan freezes as he suddenly feels himself embraced in her arms. Without thinking, he pushes her off like she's a blob of radiation, straight outta Chernobyl.

"What the-" he takes a step back to make sure her skin doesn't accidentally touch his. Nathan declaring he wants to piss on her tits or something equally embarrassing isn't exactly how he wants to start the evening.

"Nathan," she laughs, reaching out to touch his arm, "it's okay, look."

On instinct, he pulls back when he feels her fingertips against his skin but when nothing happens, no inappropriate comments, no half-hard cock in his jeans, he relaxes. Then confusion washes over him.

"What the fuck?"

--

Alisha explains it all, and despite all the detours and excessive details in her story, he thinks he's gotten the gist of it. Apparently there's some sort of shady dealer who trades in superpowers and thanks to him, Alisha is more or less normal. Well, she's clairvoyant now, and Nathan doesn't really get how that works but anything must be better than her previous powers.

"So technically we could all get new powers?" He says, an innocent idea that earns him a hard smack from Kelly who's on her second drink now and is starting to underestimate her own strength.

"You’re not trading your powers, you'd be dead in a week," she says.

"Kelly's right," Simon agrees, still on his first beer and much more sensible, "besides, we know nothing about the people on the receiving end of the trade or what they intend to do with the new powers. It could be dangerous.”

“Whatever. Whoever buys my old powers is a fucking idiot anyway,” Alisha says, emptying her beer and standing up to get another one.

Nathan follows her to the bar to get another beer, maybe a shot. The revelation that he could trade himself something else than eternal loneliness is filling him with dread and hope at the same time. Kelly and Simon are right, even Nathan can’t deny that. He’s lost count on how many times he’s died and there is no doubt that without his powers he won't last long. And yet he can't help but wonder if things would be different, better, less… this. He can’t help but wonder if he’d actually start caring about his own life, knowing he’ll lose it one day. He can’t help wondering if death might be the answer to that gaping hole inside him, if its presence might scare away the emptiness. Usually, death paralyses people, turns them into scared children, but Nathan’s never been scared of death, not even before the storm. He knows what it's like to die. He’s felt the life draining out of him, felt his cranium crush into pieces and his heart stop and he’s never been scared. Fear itself is what fascinates him more. He wonders what it would be like if he could feel true fear, if he could care more.

“Just out of curiosity, where did you find this dealer guy anyway?” Nathan asks Alisha once they're standing by the bar, out of reach of Kelly’s aggressive hands and Simon's annoyingly persistent maturity.

“You really shouldn’t, you know,” she says and Nathan suspects she too is getting a little tipsy because she's making no sense.

“I trust Kelly and Simon with my life,” she continues, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder just because she can, just because she's finally free now, “and if they say you shouldn’t trade your powers, you probably shouldn't.”

“Well,” Nathan sighs, suddenly feeling very tired, “I wish I could say the same thing but I doubt my life would be worth much.”

Alisha gives his cheek a little pat-pat, her eyes uncharacteristically sympathetic, “you’re a lot more depressing than I remember,” she states simply.

When they return to the table, Simon is talking about some Jesus freak by the community centre that has him worried, Kelly and Curtis occasionally humming along to show they’re still listening. They know just as well as Nathan that even if Simon usually is the one to save all their asses in the end, his constant worrying and excessive observations are tiring.

“Even if this guy has powers,” Curtis says, “It’s not really our problem, is it.”

“But he’s clearly scamming his followers,” Simon interjects, “he’s using his powers to manipulate people for their money.”

“Isn’t that the entire point of religion?” Kelly mutters, Curtis giving her an irritated glance. Maybe it's a touchy subject, Nathan notes.

“Who’s manipulating who?” Alisha chirps, sitting down with a smile despite the tension at the table. She leans her head against Kelly’s shoulder and Kelly instantly leans into the touch, relaxing. Apparently, they’ve grown closer without Nathan even noticing. He wonders exactly how much he’s missed in just a year.

“Nothing,” Kelly says, “Simon is just worried about some douchebag with powers.”

“But that's not really our problem anymore, is it?” Alisha raises a critical eyebrow and Curtis instantly breaks out in a rare smile.

“Exactly what I said!” he exclaims, “I’m so done with all the power-bullshit anyway.”

Simon sighs and Nathan sits down beside him, giving him a friendly pat on the back, “don’t be all depressed, Barry” he comforts, “I’m sure you’ll get to play hero again at some point.”

Simon looks up at him and Nathan can’t tell if it's a look of annoyance or gratitude. He has one of those unreadable faces, his lines of soft muscle unmoving and his grey eyes vacant. He’d make a good torture victim Nathan reflects, or a poker player. Either way, Simon’s face doesn't reveal a single secret if it doesn't want to and Nathan finds himself suddenly sick with the want to decipher it.

“What are you thinking, pretty boy?” he asks casually, ignoring Kelly’s little smirk.

Simon gives him a pointed, icy stare and Nathan is almost sure now that he is in fact annoyed and not grateful.

“If something happens to those people-” Simon pauses, moving his face closer to make sure Nathan hears every single word, “the blood will be on our hands.”

Nathan gulps audibly, moving back in his seat to find some distance between the two of them. Kelly gives him another smirk. Her know-it-all mind-reading tendencies are apparently much much more annoying when she’s drunk and Nathan has to think of something to get her off her game.

“I’m sure those people will be fine, besides, everyone knows cults are just harmless fun.”

He dismisses Simon with another friendly pat, then, turning to the rest of the gang, “hey, do you guys remember the time Kelly shagged a monkey?”

The comment has the desired effect of erupting the table into chaos, Alisha finding herself in a laughing fit while Kelly aggressively defends herself from Curtis’s sarcastic comments.

Simon watches the whole thing with even more unreadable staring.

“We can’t just be thinking of ourselves,” Simon mumbles, quiet enough for Nathan to be the only one who hears it, “we’ll kill them with our selfishness.”

Something about that phrase has Nathan on edge. He moves back in his seat, back into Simon’s personal space, the air around them narrow and tense now.

“Selfishness is how we survive,” Nathan says earnestly.

People like Simon, people who insist on practising kindness and hallelujah-peace are the same people that end up getting trampled on, end up getting used. This world is a sadistic bitch with a ten-inch strap on and she will fuck you raw. This world isn’t made for heroes.  

“And you might not believe this, Barry, but I do want you to survive this cruel world,” he says.  

“There's simply no one else who I like bullying more,” he adds when he hears how disgustingly sentimental he sounds.

Simon doesn't answer but he does give Nathan a small half-smile. Nathan finds himself staring at him, the ways his lips curl slightly, the way his eyes seem a little warmer than before. Maybe Simon’s face isn’t unreadable at all, maybe Nathan just isn't reliable in his translations. He wishes Simon would never stop smiling like that, the look suits him, makes him seem a little more human.

Shit, Nathan thinks, I need another drink. Preferably ten.

--

The next morning Nathan truly did wish he was dead, at least then he wouldn’t have to live through this torture of a hangover. He remembers bits and pieces of the night before. He remembers Alisha giving him a hug for the first time, he remembers them all talking about the dealer. Then he remembers that heated sting in his throat as he swallows drink after drink, Simon observing him with caution. Then he remembers Simon, the shade of blue in his shirt and the way he taps on the beer glass whenever he gets nervous.

He hears the door to his bedroom open and lets out a low groan.

“Fuck off, Greg,” he mutters, face down against the pillow, “I’m not in the mood for dishes right now, I’m on the verge of death if you can’t tell.”

Greg doesn't answer, instead he just walks into the room, stopping by the bed, probably to make a point. Bastard.

“Let a man sleep, will ya?”

Nathan moves to his side, forcing his face off the pillow to give Greg his best impression of a bitchy mean-girl face, hoping it will trigger flashbacks of childhood bullies and scare him off. But it’s not Greg staring down at him, instead Nathan finds himself holding his breath as a pair of cold, blue eyes locks his gaze in his.

“Morning,” Simon says, “or… well, afternoon.”

“Shit,” Nathan groans again, “what time is it? I need to-”

“I borrowed your phone and texted your work,” Simon calms him down, “said you were sick.”

Nathan gives him a puzzled look.

“I never gave you my password.”

“Actually you did,” he smiles, “Monkeyslut, I remembered.”

Nathan scoffs. This whole thing is making him out to be more nostalgic than he’s entirely comfortable with. He leans back in his bed and Simon walks over to the old garden chair. His chair, Nathan thinks.

“Why are you here anyway?” he asks, “don’t tell me we got drunk and had sex.”

Simon turns hilariously red at that and Nathan can’t help but laugh, “relax, weird-kid, I’m just pulling your balls.”

“I don’t think that's a phrase,” Simon mutters.

Nathan pushes the blanket off of him, immediately regretting it as cold air hits his skin. He tries to force himself up to a sitting position but feels dizzy, like his body is not his own, like he truly is on the verge of death.

“Don’t-” Simon warns him, suddenly by his side at the bed, putting the blanket over him again.

“You don’t need to baby me,” Nathan protests but his voice exudes all but confidence and health. He sounds just as pathetic as he feels.

“Actually I do,” Simon says sternly, “your pulse is weak and you’re pale which are both signs of alcohol poisoning,” he explains.

Nathan can’t help but laugh again, “alcohol poisoning?” he giggles, “Jesus, I really have become my dad.”

Simon doesn't answer that, just gives him that same pitying look as in the dream. He disappears out of the room only to come back with a glass of water and an ibuprofen. He kneels down by the bed and Nathan allows Simon to help him up to a sitting position. A part of him rejects this, rejects Simon's hands at his side, steadying him. Rejects the water he offers, the way he carefully lifts the glass to Nathan's dry lips. A part of him would rather die than let Simon take care of him like this.

Nathan tries to take the glass in his own hand but he feels his heart stop as his cold hand meets Simon's warmth. Simon looks at him, apologetic, awkward,  and lets go of the glass, moves his hand away from Nathan’s. But Nathan doesn't move a muscle. It’s like something has reset within him and he can’t tell if he's dying or if, for the first time in forever, he actually feels alive. His whole world is spinning, that depressed hamster in his brain having taken coke or something, dancing around like a maniac. There is no fucking way his pulse is weak, he thinks, his chest is beating like an angry warrior drum before battle.

The glass slips out of Nathan's grip and drops to the floor, the water splashing out over the wooden panels, staining Simon’s cotton pants.

“Shit,” Nathan mumbles, but he’s not sure if he’s referring to the broken glass or his heart that has suddenly decided to feel alive again. What a traitorous thing.

“Don’t get up,” Simon warns. He crouches down and carefully picks up each piece of glass off the floor, placing them delicately in his own hand, like he’s afraid of breaking them even more.

“So…” Nathan tries to think of something clever and distracting to say before the atmosphere in the room gets even more tense, “did anything fun happen yesterday, I don’t exactly remember much.”

Simon doesn't look up, “you called Curtis’s earring gay,” he says.

“Oh,” Nathan wants to go back in time and punch his drunk self, “it might not have come across that way, but I definitely meant it as a compliment.”

Simon still doesn't look up, wiping the floor with the tip of his finger to make sure there are no small shards of glass that he’s missing.

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it as a compliment though,” Nathan continues, “but that says more about him than about me.”

Simon ignores him and Nathan takes the opportunity to keep his stupid mouth running.  

“You should know I’m really into all that activism stuff,” he says, ”I’m an ally, really.”

“ You’re an ally?” Simon lifts a doubtful eyebrow his way and Nathan tries giving him an earnest smile back.

“Sure I am,” he says, “that’s what they call me- the gays I mean. A fierce ally of the community.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Well, maybe not,” Nathan admits, “but I’m not some bigot. I think it’s cool that you’re all gay and stuff now. Gay-Barry is great, go Gay-Barry.”

“I’m not gay,” Simon says and Nathan wonders if it's the hangover making him confused or if Simon is picking a bad day to try out his comedy skills.

“Well,” Nathan says, “don’t tell your boyfriend that.”

Simon actually rolls his eyes and a part of Nathan is delighted. He’s missed this, having someone to annoy on a regular basis. He’s missed annoying Simon specifically, getting under that hard exterior and finding a sensitive spot to poke.

“I like both men and women,” Simon explains, “I’m bisexual, Nathan. As an ally, you should probably know what that is.”

“I know what it is,” Nathan huffs, offended, “I read books.”

Simon gets back up from the floor, putting the little shards of glass in a neat pile on the desk. It glimmers in the light coming in from the window, leaving reflections against the surface of the table.

“Did you always know?” Nathan asks, his eyes following the lines of the broken glass, avoiding the strange way Simon looks at him.  

“In a way I did,” he finally says, “but I just assumed everyone felt that way, that they just didn’t talk about it.”

“Makes sense,” Nathan mumbles to himself.

Suddenly he feels tired again, his eyelids heavy and his heartbeat back to alcohol poisoning levels of sedation. He looks back at Simon and freezes up as he sees the red, thin streak of blood running down his left hand. Simon follows his gaze and for a moment he just looks at it, lets it bleed down his wrist, a small drop of it landing on the floor. Then he looks up again, his eyes unreadable and stuck on Nathan.

--

When Curtis calls him, Nathan almost doesn't answer. Usually he doesn't mind Curtis’s rants about what a prick he is or how he owes him money for free beer, but he still feels like shit. His muscles feel sore and awkward and his throat is dry no matter how much water Simon brings him.

“Nathan,” Curtis says when Nathan finally picks up, “I did it.”

He sounds rushed, like he’s just been running.

“I went forward in time-” he explains, taking shallow breaths between each word.

“I thought you said it was impossible.”

“I lied, obviously.”

Nathan’s almost impressed, he should probably be offended or hurt, but something about Curtis lyingto  right to his face is a little exciting. People usually don’t care enough to lie to him, they usually just tell him to fuck off.

“Alright, well, apology accepted,” Nathan says even though Curtis probably wasn't intending to say sorry in the first place.

“Now tell me what you saw.”

Nathan can hear Curtis take a deep breath on the other side and he feels a pang of fear in the back of his mind. The image of an empty community service building, the still water, the quiet, it still haunts him. If that future truly exists then maybe Simon’s accusation rings true, maybe he really is cursed.

“It’s a little hard to make sense of,” Curtis stalls, “I don’t know where exactly I ended up, It’s not like I have much control over it.”

“Did you see anyone?” Nathan presses on. He needs to know he’s not the only one left.

“Yes, Nathan, everyone was there. You, Kelly, Alisha, Simon,” he says, “it was snowing outside I think.”

“Jesus,” Curtis mumbles, “I think I’m still high.”

“Focus,” Nathan says. He’s definitely gonna make a note of that “high” comment but now is not the time. Now he needs to know what actually happened, what Curtis saw.

“Right,” Curtis snaps himself out of his daze, “you were talking to Kelly and- we were at Kelly’s place! We were drinking mulled wine and that stupid Christmas song was playing and I think your nose was bleeding.”

Nathan can practically hear the cogs in Curtis’s brain turn, the way he’s trying to recall every single detail as vividly as possible. “She said something to you, but I couldn’t hear any of it, I was standing too far away. Alisha was telling me something about a modelling job and she was really excited-”

“What about Simon?” Nathan interrupts.

Curtis sighs again, “Simon was just sitting there I think, why does it matter anyway?”

“I guess it doesn't.”

--

Simon has visited almost every day since that day at the bar. He’s convinced Nathan is still at the risk of falling ill and Nathan doesn't have the heart to tell him otherwise. He likes having him there, likes when he talks about his favourite movies and the strange customers he meets at the pharmacy he works at.

Sometimes he sleeps over, not that Nathan ever outright asks him to. But he has this strategy of distracting Simon long enough with food and idle small talk to the point where it's too late for him to go home. Then he casually suggests that Simon use the spare mattress in the closet and sleep in his room. Just for tonight, just because it's easy, simple, uncomplicated. He hopes Simon doesn't think about it too hard.

They talk about everything and nothing. The strange stories of the past, possible undiscovered superpowers that they’ll have to deal with in the future. They talk about the horrid pranks Nathan used to pull at church while his parents still had hope he’d be the perfect altar boy. They talk about Matt, Simon’s old bully, buying haemorrhoid cream at the pharmacy and his horrified face as he meets Simon at the register. They talk about their families, all their failures, all the ways they’ve fucked the both of them up. Simon’s parents never cared about the bullying, instead insisting that Simon wasn't doing enough to fit in, that just by being himself he was practically inviting people to treat him poorly. They were never on his side, Nathan realises, and for a brief moment he contemplates doing something irrational like shitting in their bed or burning down their house. No wonder Simon is so fucked up.

Simon asks him about the divorce, when it happened, if it broke Nathan’s heart, and Nathan finds himself not being able to give a satisfying answer. He’s never fit in with that image of the sorrowful child, grieving the loss of what he once knew to be family. Nathan doesn't remember much of how it happened, he just knows he was relieved. His mom and dad had never been a good match and the more they tried to be, the more they drove each other insane. The more they drove Nathan further apart from both of them.

The only thing they never talk about is that dream and Nathan never shares his suspicion that he might be the reason for both his brother's as well as Simon's eventual downfall. They don’t talk about Levi either, but it’s obvious him and Simon are still going steady. Nathan can see his stupid name on the display when Simon’s phone buzzes with a text or call and sometimes he’s even horrified to find a hickey or two on Simon’s pale neck. Apparently, Simon doesn't need his help in the intimacy department, or maybe being gay is just easier. Either way, he's relieved Simon never mentions Levi, it makes his existence exponentially easier to forget.

Greg has made it very clear he likes having Simon over, “he’s the only reason anything gets cleaned here,” he reasons, “besides, he actually knows something about video games unlike you.”

He even offers Simon naan bread when he orders home Indian food and Nathan would be much more irritated by that if Simon didn't always split it with him. But he does, and usually they end up watching some stupid reality TV show, cooped up on the sofa while talking shite about all the contestants. Nathan does most of the shite-talking but finds himself immensely proud whenever Simon too gets in a sarcastic comment or mean spirited observation.

Nathan doesn't drink anymore. Well, he hasn't since that horrid hangover at least. Simon’s made sure to get rid of all his bottles at home and he’s pretty sure he’s convinced the rest of the gang to meet up somewhere else than a bar so as to not “trigger” Nathan. At least Nathan thinks that's why the next time all of them meet up, it's at a cafe, talking over a couple of coffees like they are in an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. or something. Secretly he thinks it's ridiculous, Simon is treating him like an alcoholic in recovery, with delicate yet firm care. But if Nathans supposed alcoholism is the only reason he’s hanging around, Nathan won’t do anything to break the delusion. In fact, he’ll refrain from drinking if that convinces Simon he’s doing good, that he’s making progress just by staying at his side, just by being his friend. And as much as Nathan loves drinking, he finds he craves it less and less the more he’s around Simon. It’s only at work where he misses that steady buzz alcohol brings, that loosening of the harsh edges of the world. That escape.

--

Tonight the universe is working alongside Nathan for once. The wind outside is scratching and the air is almost cold enough to turn the pouring rain into sharp pieces of ice. It’s not a weather you want to walk through without the protection of thick gloves and a sturdy umbrella. Nathan doesn't hesitate a second to use it to his advantage.

“Don’t be daft, Barry,” he says, “if you go home now the wind will blow you away like a little leaf, just stay here for the night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Nathan smiles, unable to hide how delighted he is at his own conniving ways. He gets what he wants and appears as a hero on top of it all. Damn, he’s good.

Simon sighs, “Wednesdays are my early shifts,” he says, “I don’t know if I’ll have time to get home and change.”

Nathan rolls his eyes, walking past Simon over to his closet, “just borrow something,” he says.

Nathan looks through his sparse collection of clothes, trying to find anything that might be at least half-decent in Simon’s mind. He fishes out a white cotton shirt reserved for funerals and weddings and tosses it to Simon.

“Try it on.”

Simon obliges, taking off his knitted sweater and letting it fall to the floor. Nathan steals a quick glance and makes note of the way Simon's abs are softly defined and how his happy trail is slightly darker than his natural hair. He has a V-line thing going on and Nathan is infinitely jealous. He’s always been on the more lanky side and he suspects even if he had the dedication to drag himself to a gym on a regular basis, he’d still remain bony looking.

Simon pulls the shirt on and closes each button carefully. It's small over the chest while the arms are too long, Simon having to fold them to get them to fit perfectly.

"It works," he assesses, buttoning it up again to change back into his own shirt.

Nathan looks away this time, letting Simon have his privacy like the true, good friend he is.

"Obviously, it looks better on me," Nathan lies, "but you pull it off."

He can't see it, but he imagines a small smile on the other man's face, secretly amused by Nathan's Nathan-ness.

Nathan has known for a while now that Simon fancies him.

Maybe he's not head over heels and maybe he doesn't realise it himself yet, but there's something there. Something almost solid enough for Nathan to reach out and touch. It amuses him. Nathan has always loved it when other people crush on him. They're so cute, fumbling around with their words and blushing every ten minutes. It fills him with confidence like nothing else, the power to make someone weak in the knees with just a look or fill them with overflowing jealousy when he gets bored and wants a reaction. Nathan loves to push people's buttons and someone with a crush has a whole new set of buttons to push. They're filled with spots of vulnerability that are just waiting to be exploited. Besides, Simon’s not too bad looking even if he's undeniably still a weirdo, and his crush is harmless so far. Nothing wrong with having a little fun.

He groans loudly, stretching his arms as far up as he reaches, making sure his t-shirt rises up on his stomach, teasing Simon with the exposed skin. He grins as Simon's eyes follow the movement of his body, not so discreetly checking him out. This is his favourite game, a game he'll never grow tired of.

The sound of Simon's phone interrupts Nathan's plans of slow seduction and Simon practically jumps at the sound. Lost in thoughts, are we? Nathan thinks to himself smugly.

"Hi, Levi," Simon answers the phone and Nathan's confidence instantly falters.

Maybe he’s wrong, clouded by narcissism and that constant need to fill the boredom. Simon doesn't have a crush on him, Simon is in a happy healthy relationship and the only reason he stays is because of some warped sense of obligation and the fact that he might be the only truly decent person left on the planet.

--

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

Nathan gives Curtis a big, toothy grin, “Oh, come on. I know Barry has this idea that my drinking is somehow excessive,” he says, “but you know what a drama queen he is.”    

Curtis huffs and turns his back on Nathan in favour of cleaning off the liquor bottles on the shelf behind him. He’s precise and efficient and Nathan wonders exactly how many times he’s done that, how long this took to become second nature.

“I just came to talk,” Nathan reassures him, “I’m not planning on having any fun.”

“Last time you were here you puked all over the bathroom,” Curtis says, still turned away, “so excuse me for not being all that fucking excited to see you.”

He crouches down and fishes out a coke bottle from the minifridge that he places in front of Nathan with a pointed glare. Reluctantly, Nathan opens it and takes a sip. Better than nothing, he thinks.

“So-” he says, skipping the small talk since Curtis doesn't seem to be much in the mood, “you never told me how you took that little trip to the future.”

Curtis sighs and Nathan almost thinks he’s gonna go back to cleaning liquor bottles. But he doesn't, instead he pours himself a glass of beer.

“Remember that time we all took E and our powers got completely fucked?”

The night his brother died.

“I remember,” Nathan says.

“Well,” Curtis continues, “I sort of went forward in time.”

Nathan considers it, taking another sip of that carbonated sugar. It’s actually growing on him. Maybe he can go through life without ever drinking again.

“That’s just ridiculously unfair,” he finally decides, “you get to take a vacation to the future while I just turn… normal.”

“It’s not like the future is that special anyway.”

Their conversation is cut short by a customer, a regular it seems because Curtis doesn't even ask what he wants, just pours up a big beer. The customer gives a half-hearted nod of appreciation in response.

“Can you do it again?” Nathan asks as soon as the regular has left the two of them alone again.

Curtis gives him another irritated groan, “is it really that important to you?” he asks, “I thought you were like a cat, never looking back, never thinking about tomorrow.”

“I’m like a cat?”

“That’s what I said. You have no concept of time.”

Curtis finishes his glass of beer and Nathan figures he should finish his coke too. Their conversation is nearing an end and Nathan hasn't made any progress with what he came here for.

“Come on, big man,” he pleads, trying to turn on that natural charm of his, giving Curtis his best attempt at puppy dog eyes, “I have this funky feeling in my balls that something’s gonna go wrong.”

Curtis rolls his eyes, “are you a medium now too?”

“Can’t you do me this little favour?”

Curtis considers it for a moment before answering.

“Fine,” he decides, “If- and only if- I go forward in time again, you’ll be the first one I tell.”

Good enough, Nathan supposes.

--

Nathan has another nightmare, this time, however, he isn’t alone when he wakes up.

“You’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nathan wakes up in a confused daze. He doesn't even realise that Simon’s holding him, let alone talking to him.

“Nathan,” he says in a hushed plea, “you’re okay, please wake up.”

Nathan’s still shaking and his breathing is rushed and desperate. He can’t remember the dream anymore, but has a sense it might have ended with him not breathing one way or the other. Maybe he ended up under water again or maybe it’s one of his incessant “falling off the community centre building and getting impaled on a fence” dreams that his subconscious seems to be so fond of.

“Simon?” he whispers when he has come to his senses, catching his breath.

Slowly, his eyes adjust to the darkness and he can make out the outline of Simon’s figure leaning over him, his hands clasping at Nathan’s shoulders to shake him awake. His look is scared and Nathan wonders what exactly he could have said or done to elicit such a reaction. Maybe Simon really is a drama queen or maybe Nathan is more haunted than he realises.

“What happened?” He asks.

Simon’s grip around him loosens and he moves away, sitting down by the end of the bed to give Nathan some space. Nathan wishes he could tell him he doesn't want any space. He wants Simon to stay close, wants his hands gripping at his shoulders even if it's hard enough to hurt. He wants Simon to ground him, to make him feel real in the still darkness that surrounds them both.

“You started screaming my name,” Simon whispers and there’s a clear note of hesitance in his voice.

“You sounded scared so I tried to wake you up,” he continues.

“Shit,” Nathan mumbles.

He forces his body upright, scooting himself down next to Simon on the bed.

“Sorry about that.”

He forces a smile but Simon doesn't look reassured in the least. There's a worried line between his eyebrows and he’s staring Nathan down like he expects him to talk, tell him what happened, tell him the truth. But Nathan doesn't remember his own nightmare and he doesn't know the truth well enough to tell it. They’ve always had a complicated relationship, Nathan and truth. Something true can turn untrue in mere seconds and sometimes you don’t even know the difference between the two.

Is he scared? Is he miserable? Is he in love? How is he supposed to know? Is one thing truer than the next or can all things be true and false at the same time? He knows he’s a liar but sometimes he worries he can’t tell where the truth ends and the lies start. If he’s begun lying to himself without even realising.

“I’m worried about you,” Simon admits and the pity in his eyes makes Nathan sick.

“Worried?” Nathan scoffs, his voice weak and unsure and his head still trying to adjust itself to reality, “is that why you’re over all the time? Because you wanna play hero, because you wanna save me?”

Realistically, he knows he shouldn't ask, self-preservation and all that, but in his dazed state, he can’t help it. In the shielding darkness he knows Simon can’t see the genuine worry on his face. He doesn't know that he holds Nathan’s heart in his hand with that question, that he can squeeze the life out of him like a little grape with just one word.

“I don’t need to be saved, Barry,” he continues, anger starting to build up, “I don’t need you to wake me up from nightmares or fetch me fucking water when I have a hangover, I can manage on my own. I don’t need you to be here.”

“Is that what you think?”

Nathan finally looks up at Simon, meets his eyes through the thick darkness and holds it steady. Despite everything, he wants to take this rejection with some sort of dignity.

“I’m not here because I pity you,” Simon says, his voice clear and unwavering, “I just wanna be your friend.”

Maybe Nathan has finally learned how to read Simon because despite the darkness, he can map out every emotion in the other man’s face. The line of worry between his eyebrows, the sincerity in his eyes, the short, anxious, inhale of breath. Simon is afraid too, he realises. He wants to be his friend, implying he doesn't know they already are. After everything they’ve been through he still doesn't know, he still isn't sure.

Nathan feels himself soften, letting his head rest against the wall, exposing his neck to the cool, night air. He exhales and closes his eyes because he can't focus for the life of him while looking at Simon.

“Okay,” he says simply.

They stay like that for a while, quiet in the darkness. The only thing Nathan can make out in the silence is Simon's steady breathing and his own heartbeat, still a little jumpy after the dream.

He opens his eyes again and finds that Simon is already looking at him. Nathan responds with an unwavering look of his own, staring Simon down, wanting answers to questions he can't articulate yet.

Simon smiles at him, that small, shy smile, and suddenly it all feels so simple. When Nathan leans over to kiss Simon he doesn't even think about it, he simply does it because he wants to. Because there's nothing else he’d rather do, no one else he’d rather kiss.

For a moment, Nathan kisses Simon. For a moment, that quiet darkness feels so loud and radiating and the cold air in the room turns hot at the heat of their lips. For a moment, Nathan is content, free.

For a moment Simon kisses him back. Then he doesn't.

“Nathan,” he breathes, pulling back.

The moment is gone, abruptly so, and Nathan exhales sharply at the loss of contact. He can still feel heat and wetness on his lips, the ghost of Simon lingering on, the taste of his mouth haunting him. Nathan tries to look at the other man but Simon turns away, and moves off the bed swiftly, like if he stays for even one more second he’ll catch on fire.

“I need to sleep,” he mumbles, laying back down on the mattress, positioning himself as far away from Nathan as possible, “early shift.”

His back is towards Nathan and he can’t see his face, can’t even get a clue of what he’s thinking, how much he's freaking out on a scale of one to ten.

They lay there for what feels like hours. Quiet, pretending to sleep while listening to the sound of each other's shallow breathing.

At some point, Nathan watches the snow cry down the sky, furiously throwing itself against his window. The first snow of the year, he thinks. The beginning of winter.

#its finally out !!!!!! #idk if tumblr will allow me to actually post this much text without crashing #and to think this is just chapter one.. JESUS #nathan young #nathan x simon #simon bellamy #simon x nathan #nimon #misfits #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #robert sheehan #Iwan Rheon

[childofchrist1983]

And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of fat things, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wines on the lees well refined. And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And it shall be said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation. For in this mountain shall the hand of the Lord rest, and Moab shall be trodden down under him, even as straw is trodden down for the dunghill. - Isaiah 25:6-10 KJV

This begs the question – Do we cry out for God's help and mercy?

It's hard to ask for help when we live in such a do-it-yourself world. We seem to have bought into the idea that we can do it all and do it without help. Just look at all the books on the subject! But there are situations when we have to admit that we need help. The older I get, the more I realize this. The more I recognize the need for God and others. The more I recognize the need for forgiveness as sins of the past come more to the forefront of memory.

We all cry out to God when people we love are ill or in trouble, when we lose a family member or friend, but do we ask for healing of resentments, of past hurts? Do we reach out to God even in the day to day needs we experience? Are we aware of the times in our lives that God has been merciful towards us? God is not doing this because we are faithful to Him, but because HE is faithful to us!

God's mercy is not earned, it is a free gift. When we cry out for God's help, we sometimes we are directed to someone within the community for the help we need. How often we don't even recognize that God has answered our prayer! I know that my morning prayer often begins with a thank you for another day and a plea for help to get though it! God cares about us so much more than we can ever imagine. It's not only okay to ask Him for help, but also what God wants us to do, and who wants to disappoint God?

We must give God thanks for His mercy and faithfulness to us. How often we forget and take your gifts for granted! May He forgive us when we grow forgetful and forlorn and give us the grace and the courage to reach out to Him for mercy, for help in our need, and for forgiveness for all the times we have not been faithful to Him. And may we never forget to thank and praise Him always, through good times and the bad. For God Almighty and Lord Jesus, He is our strength and shield and salvation - Our everything! And we must always thank Him for always loving us and being there for us, for everything He has done and continues to do!

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time daily to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful Lord, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in the Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for May 19, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 16:31(KJV): 31 The hoary head is a crown of glory if it is found in the way of righteousness. Proverbs 16:31(Amp): 31 The hoary (gray) head is a crown of beauty and glory, if it is found in the way of righteousness -- of spiritual and moral rectitude in every area and relation.

Thought for the Day

As people age, they become more experienced. This experience can lead to wisdom, but it is not a guarantee of it. Only those committed to God possess this glorious crown. A righteous elder possesses a wisdom that younger men do not have. His wisdom is noble, beautiful, and evident. "The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the gray head" (Proverbs 20:29).

Older men and women who know Christ do not have to face the sunset of their lives with dread, since God's Word contains great promises for them. One of those promises is that their lives shall be fruitful. It is not God's will that they should waste away in their latter years. "The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those that be planted in the house of the LORD shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing" (Psalm 92:12-14).

Another wonderful promise for older people who may feel weak is found in Isaiah: "He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint" (Isaiah 40:29-31).

What a wonderful promise: to run without weariness and walk without fainting! Moses' life was an example of how God fulfilled this promise; his latter years were blessed with good health and vitality. "And Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died: his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated" (Deuteronomy 34:7).

God desires that we live long and productive lives, leaving a godly inheritance to those who follow us. Our latter years should be "golden." We should be healthy and strong, able to do the will of God until we have completed His purpose for us. When our assignment is complete, it will be time for us to leave this earth. The devil is the one who wants to cut our lives short. There are many promises in the Word of God concerning long life: "He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation" (Psalm 91:15-16). "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom" (Psalm 90:12).

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for the many wonderful promises for all of Your children. I do thank you for the promise of long life, not only for me but for all of my family members. I claim Psalm 91 over our lives. Thank you for watching over us all the time. Lord, now that I am older and have had many experiences, help me to be gracious in sharing the things that I have learned over the years. Help me to also keep my mouth shut when I should and allow others to learn from You. Thank you for helping me to grow old graciously. Lord, bless all of Your older saints who are still serving You around the world. Strengthen and protect them. I ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ, Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Friday, May 19, 2023, Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA, https://www.facebook.com/StevenParkerMillerQ Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956, Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, https://twitter.com/StevenPMiller6 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeperwatchman, https://www.tumblr.com/gatekeeper-watchman, https://www.pinterest.com/GatekeeperWatchman1/ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981

[suicideandcheese]

Attitudes, Amiss

You ever wonder why we die? Your ever try? There's this chance to quit. I can't quite dismiss it. I think Maybe it's for me, mostly it's not. You got shit to give, I tell myself. People to protect, rights to fight for. Don't leave them hanging, you know. Hang yourself too soon, you fucken hangover. Don't even bliss out when the world remains. All of this is pain. All I feel, all I fucken feel is pain. And I will tomorrow into the next, and bless this Shit, I want more because it's god, damned, deep. If I could sleep. The way your mysteries unravel, Creator, create. Me unto this. I'm happy to sigh. Some day I'm ready to die. Every day, all day, most Nights, yours truly is a disgrace, my grace. I wish to hell I could be better, I'm just this, some Man. Simple, drunk, desirous of everything, deadly In capacity, endearing to those I love, everyone, if They let me. In heaven, hah, heaven, is grossly mis- Understood. What do you do there but contentedness? I want my misery and I want to redeem it and I want to Fucking install it into the void and call it a goddamn hush. There's this planet I live on, occurringly, its oceans, its mist, its airs, its tits of war and cunts of religion. We are Better than all of it, but to be better means to try, try, try. We only try to be what we are, no more, no less, even less. How blessed. We go on like definite attitudes into the abyss. Eat your chicken wings, order them entitled, tip your server Nothing. Call it a happy day. You fat motherfucker, greasy And just another. You're just another. Complacent. Fucked.

#poetry #poem #poets #writing #free verse #creative writing #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #poets and writers #tears in my eyes #just a heartbeat #no one #nowhere #nohow #spilled ink #spilled words #my words #my poetry #fucking hell #how's the despair?

[spaghetti-doodles]

Friendly reminders:

Friendly reminder that feeling your emotions doesn't mean you are weak.

Friendly reminder that the one and only person you could ever owe anything to is yourself.

Friendly reminder that you are a human and should be listened to.

Friendly reminder that your feelings are just as important as anyone else's.

Friendly reminder you aren't, and never will be, a burden. If we called dams burdens we wouldn't have towns, cities, or flourishing forests. You are a blessing.

Friendly reminder that you do not have to "deserve" love. Love is something that is a given. A relationship that makes you feel like love and kindness has to be earned, is a relationship that was built on conditions that will never help or support you ever.

Friendly reminder that it's okay to question your feelings.

Friendly reminder that you don't have to be "important" or influential to matter. You are here, you are living, and you matter.

Friendly reminder to drink water and take care of your needs. Work, other people, school, or whatever outside distractions there are, can wait. Take care of yourself. Your body is the most important thing you have. Take care of it.

Friendly reminder loving yourself doesn't make you a narcissist. Knowing your worth and telling others it's not okay to hurt you doesn't make you a narcissist. You are not a narcissist. You are a person and being treated as such is the bare minimum.

Friendly reminder you are not ugly, you are not "fat", you aren't gross, you aren't "too skinny", you aren't "too hairy". You look the way you look and you wouldn't be yourself if you looked like anyone else.

Friendly reminder that needing help doesn't make you weak, not knowing something doesn't make you stupid.

Friendly reminder that asking for help with anything will absolutely never make you annoying. A person being upset at someone for needing help is like someone yelling at a fish for being caught in a trap. If you are asking for help that means that you need it. That is valid and anyone who tells you otherwise isn't someone worth your time.

Friendly reminder that you are wonderful and a being that beat the odds of 1 and 60 billion just by existing on this planet, here, right now, with over 7.837 billion other people who are nothing like you. You are a miracle that beat probability twice with nothing but the power of the fantastic and passionate stardust you are made of. All of that without even trying. I know you are trying SO hard right now, whether you think so or not. I know for an absolute fact that with all your power and love, you can be happy, and you can be the change you want to see in the world. You can and you will. I promise

#long post #friendly reminder #tumblr #mental health #know your worth #self worth

[lizzygrantarchives]

Flush the Fashion, June 16, 2011

Lana's strange combination of dreamy old style vocals mashed with low-fi arrangements and lush production fuses together in a beautiful but slightly haunting way. We followed the trail of broken hearts to her front door.

Lana Del Rey aka Lizzy Grant is currently putting the finishing touches to her as yet untitled new record. American born, she grew up in Lake Placid, New York before relocating to her current home in London.

Lana’s strange combination of dreamy old style vocals mashed with low-fi arrangements and lush production fuses together in a beautiful but slightly haunting way. To me it’s what a musical version of ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’ meets Larry Clark’s ‘Kids’ would sound like.

She has movie star looks and loves Italian landscapes, big churches and roller coasters and if her new record is only half as good as the ‘Video Games’ single then it will be one worth looking out for. We followed the trail of broken hearts to her front door.

How long have you been writing songs?

For a very long time – since I was 11. I was also the leader of my church choir from when I was 11 onward.

I heard Video Games described as ‘Hollywood Sad Core’, what is the rest of the record like?

The concept of almost every song on the record is a dark love story seen through hopeful eyes. Lyrically its also about the way my life’s been for the past few years – from making my first record with famed producer David while living in a trailer park in New Jersey.

It’s also about my troubled love affairs.

Sonically, the record is a perfect mix of Old Hollywood glamour and pop production. Most songs are laced with lush Sinatra string sections. But the bones of the songs are based in fat beats.

Think Nina Simone singing a Cat Power song over Lil Wayne’s track. It’s sick.

Who are you working with on the record?

So many people have been involved in making this record – notably Liam Howe, Chris Braide, Emile Hayney, Justin Parker.

How involved musically are you in the studio?

I am the dominating factor in the studio – I’m very particular and I know exactly what I want. I am a writer first and a singer second. I always have a vision for the final outcome and for what I want sonically. I write the lyrics and melodies to most everything with the exception of certain songs and verses. What is most helpful to me in the studio is a talented composer or a sick producer.

Do you have a title for the record yet?

I have four titles that are always in rotation in my mind:

1. G.B.A (God Bless America) 2. Do U Luv Me Yet? 3. The Best of Lana Del Rey 4. The World is Ours

Do you have any plans to tour once the record has been released?

Yes of course. It will be good to be back on the stage. We have big plans for touring Europe and a wonderful company we’ll be working with. The single is so very dark and has been resonating with a bigger audience in Eastern Europe than anywhere else.

What is your favorite film noir movie(s)?

Sunset Blvd or The Big Sleep.

Where is the most beautiful place in Italy?

Venice, of course … but nowhere’s as beautiful as New York or Hollywood!

Originally published on flushthefashion.com with the headline Lana Del Rey – Hollywood Sadcore.

#2011 #Flush the Fashion #Pete Graham

[healthyandslim]

Unlock the Secret to Effortless Weight Loss: The Ultimate Guide Revealed!

Discover effective strategies and tips for achieving your weight loss goals. Learn how to make sustainable lifestyle changes and kickstart your journey towards a healthier you!

Introduction

Embarking on a weight loss journey can often feel like navigating through a labyrinthine maze, filled with fad diets, conflicting advice, and the constant struggle to resist the temptation of that extra slice of cake. But fear not, fellow traveler! In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve deep into the realm of weight loss, uncovering tried-and-true strategies, busting common myths, and providing you with the tools and knowledge to embark on a successful transformation journey.

Understanding the Fundamentals of Weight Loss

Demystifying the Science Behind Weight Loss

Ever wondered why shedding those stubborn pounds can feel like an uphill battle? It all boils down to simple science. When we consume more calories than our bodies expend, the excess energy gets stored as fat, leading to weight gain. Conversely, when we create a calorie deficit by burning more calories than we consume, our bodies tap into those fat reserves for fuel, resulting in weight loss.

If you want to lose weight very fast. click here.

Unraveling the Mystery of Metabolism

Ah, metabolism - the holy grail of weight loss enthusiasts everywhere. But what exactly is metabolism, and how does it impact our ability to lose weight? Put simply, metabolism refers to the processes by which our bodies convert food into energy. While some people are blessed with a speedy metabolism that allows them to burn calories at lightning speed, others may find themselves saddled with a sluggish metabolism that seems to thwart their weight loss efforts at every turn.

Practical Strategies for Sustainable Weight Loss

Embracing a Balanced Diet

When it comes to weight loss, the age-old adage "you are what you eat" holds true. While crash diets and extreme eating plans may promise rapid results, they often leave us feeling deprived, hungry, and ultimately, doomed to failure. Instead, focus on nourishing your body with a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains. Not only will this approach provide you with the essential nutrients your body needs to thrive, but it will also help you feel satisfied and energized throughout the day.

If you want to lose weight very fast. click here.

Harnessing the Power of Exercise

While diet plays a crucial role in weight loss, exercise is equally important for achieving long-term success. Not only does regular physical activity help burn calories and build muscle, but it also offers a myriad of additional health benefits, from improving cardiovascular health to boosting mood and reducing stress. Whether you prefer hitting the gym, going for a jog in the great outdoors, or dancing up a storm in your living room, finding activities that you enjoy and incorporating them into your routine is key to staying motivated and committed to your weight loss goals.

Mastering the Mindset for Success

Perhaps the most overlooked yet crucial aspect of weight loss is mindset. In a world filled with quick fixes and instant gratification, it's easy to become discouraged when progress seems slow or setbacks occur. However, by cultivating a positive mindset and adopting a long-term perspective, you can overcome obstacles with resilience and determination. Celebrate your successes, no matter how small, and learn from your mistakes along the way. Remember, sustainable weight loss is not a sprint but a marathon, and with patience, persistence, and a healthy dose of self-compassion, you can achieve lasting results.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Is it possible to lose weight without exercising? Absolutely! While exercise certainly enhances weight loss efforts, it's not the only factor at play. By making smart dietary choices and creating a calorie deficit through portion control and mindful eating, you can still achieve your weight loss goals sans sweat sessions.

Are all calories created equal when it comes to weight loss? Not necessarily. While the basic principle of weight loss revolves around creating a calorie deficit, the quality of those calories also matters. Foods that are high in nutrients and fiber will keep you feeling fuller for longer, making it easier to stick to your calorie goals and resist temptation.

How can I stay motivated on my weight loss journey? Finding motivation can be challenging, especially when progress seems slow or setbacks occur. Surround yourself with a supportive community, set realistic goals, and reward yourself for milestones along the way. Remember, every step forward, no matter how small, is progress worth celebrating.

Conclusion

In the pursuit of weight loss, there are no shortcuts or quick fixes. Instead, success lies in adopting a holistic approach that encompasses healthy eating, regular exercise, and a positive mindset. By understanding the fundamentals of weight loss, embracing sustainable strategies, and staying committed to your goals, you can embark on a journey towards a happier, healthier you. So, lace up those sneakers, stock up on fruits and veggies, and get ready to conquer the challenges ahead. The path to weight loss may be challenging, but with perseverance and determination, the destination is well worth the effort.

If you want to lose weight very fast. click here.

Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links.

#weight loss #lose weight fast #lose weight tips #lose weight motivation #lose weight without exercise #lose weight at home

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Besides our internationally popular chilli crab, the dish also comes in black pepper and it's equally as delicious. Singaporeans love our black pepper sauce, so when I discovered that a noodle stall I patronise serves hei hu jiao ji shou gong mian (black pepper chicken handmade noodles), I had to order it. The cook shaved off noodles from a dough stick using a knife, added chicken cubes and veggies and voila, a messy affair that tasted utterly divine! The noodles were smooth yet chewy and evenly coated in sauce - my word, it was delicious.

I don't eat a lot of cheese due to high saturated fat levels but out of compassion and sympathy for Palestinians as famine sets in in Gaza, I had a simple breakfast of milk crackers and cheese over the weekend. The following news contains disturbing footage of an emaciated infant, its breathing shallow and weak. Already, children are dying from dehydration and malnutrition in the war-torn area. This makes me wonder, on top of genocide, is there ethnic cleansing going on? As the saying goes, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck......

Ireland has been outspoken about their support for Palestinians, thus, my weekly groceries included Gouda imported from them. I intend to have simple breakfasts of cheese and milk crackers from time to time to remind myself of the suffering in Palestine. Tempting as it is to rant about inflation and falling living standards, the destitution in the war-torn area is a stark reminder of how blessed we are. Cheese and crackers might be a simple meal to me, but to Palestinians, they may very well be luxury. In other parts of the world, people are still losing their homes or evicted from rented property.

Unlike some wealthy nations which withhold funding to UNRWA at a time when starvation is rife in Palestine, Singapore and Malaysia are doing their utmost to help. Several rounds of donations have been made by both countries, even as their citizens face elevated prices back home. If we can afford to eat, we can try to alleviate the suffering in Gaza in any way we can. Whether it's raising awareness, donating, or letting their voices be heard, every bit helps. It may not be much, but at the very least, some power is restored there using solar panels with our country's help.

I won't forget the devastation in Palestine for a very long time and, should there be retaliation against countries which have perpetuated this war through their supply of weapons to Israel, I can't guarantee that I'll condemn it. If even I, a non-Muslim, feel this way, who's to say Muslims all over the world don't? It took me awhile to condemn Israel's genocide in Gaza because my country's ties with them go back a long way. It's come to the point where I cannot excuse the atrocities committed against Palestinians any longer. 下次见!

#Youtube

[fortitudina]

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Evanora Melchoir NICKNAME: Eva, Eve, Evan, Nora, Norrie AGE: 19 BIRTH DATE: August 4th 2004 GENDER: Female SPECIES: Human ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic ?? SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual ?? RELIGION: Christian SPOKEN LANGUAGE: English and some basic Spanish CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Student apartment in LA OCCUPATION: Student ~ English Literature

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS:       • Annabeth Melchoir ( Mother )       • Jeremiah Melchoir ( Father ) SIBLINGS:       • ~ SIGNIFICANT OTHER:       • ~ CHILDREN:       • ~ FRIENDS:     • ~ OTHER CONNECTIONS:      • ~

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOUR: Blue HAIR COLOUR: Blonde HEIGHT: 5ft 5 inches BODY BUILD: Average build. Not muscular but not fat nor skinny. TATTOOS + PIERCINGS: Pierced ears. Small tattoo on her inner wrist. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: She has a scar on her upper left arm from one of the bouts of bullying she endured in high school that ended up with her against the bleachers with force, cutting her arm open. 

POWERS & ABILITIES

POWERS:      • ~ ABILITIES:      • She can recite several biblical passages from memory.       • She’s a skilled writer, though she far from thinks that she is.      • She’s quite the dancer, though she keeps that to herself. WEAKNESSES:      • Her parents      • Bullies      • Strawberries ( deathly allergic to them )

PHOBIAS & DISORDERS

PHOBIAS: Arachnaphobia MENTAL DISORDERS: ~ WHEN WAS THIS DIAGNOSED?: ~

PERSONALITY

PERSONALITY TYPE: ISFJ - The Defender MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good INTELLIGENCE: Very intelligent LIKES: Books, Walking, music DISLIKES: Strawberries ( because she’s allergic ), insects, overbearing people DISPOSITION: She is always a cheerful character, despite the endless years of bullying and the incessant need for her parents to attend church. She often finds her joy in the books that she reads, immersing herself into their worlds to escape her own. Her parents haven’t always liked that she reads as much as she does and the things that she does, saying that they are very much against the teachings of the church and the bible, but she continued to read them anyway because they brought and still bring about a joy to her.  She’s incredibly introverted, though she is good at masking it when in a group of people and will engage in conversation as much as possible, at least until she can escape and leave, that is. The point that she does leave, she quickly retreats to her room and hides herself in her books and her music, drowning out everything around her.  EXTRAS: ~

BIOGRAPHY

They say that a Miracle only happens once in someone’s life but how true is that exactly? The basis of a miracle is a blessing; a gift sent from a higher power to those deemed worthy of it. In Evanora’s parents’ case, that higher power was God. They had struggled for many years, believing that they were not fit to be parents. Now, Annabeth and Jeremiah were model citizens. Their faith in their church was unparamount. Little did they know that they had in fact walked with and sat beside various angels during sermons and masses. Akrasiel had been their first - that comes as no true surprise though, given his own devotion to churches. Then came Ramiel and Gabriel. Each of them had heard the prayers and their own verbal cries whilst in church to be given the gift of a child and, after a long time, Gabriel was the one sent to bring them the news. Nine months later, the Melchoir’s were blessed with a healthy baby girl. In honour to thank God for their miracle, they named her Evanora, meaning Miracle; Gift from God. 

Evanora was doted on, not only by her parents but by their church too. Everyone believed that God had done something wonderful in blessing the Melchoir’s with her. But all of this did little in the way of favour for Evanora as she got older and older. School was always hard. Other kids would laugh and pick on her because of her family’s devotion to the church and because she was this “gift from God”. She had very little in the way of friends, but she did not mind that much. 

She went through Elementary and Middle school with her head down, focusing on her studies as much as possible. High school, however, was when things were noticed more. Evanora still attended church with her parents whenever they went ~ which was a lot. They often attended communion too. Despite several of the others in her class also going to church with their parents, they never took it as seriously as what Evanora’s family took it and would often turn it into jokes for school days. Evanora struggled more during her high school years as a result of it all. Whilst she was pretty, she was never skinny like the cheerleaders, nor was she popular. She kept her head in a book as much as possible and if she was not reading or studying, she was writing. She had aspirations to become an author some day. She just needed to make it through the torture of her school years first. 

She graduated High School thankfully an quickly took herself out of there and away from her hometown. Her parents were not fond of her going away to college or to her choice of location for college, given what they’d heard about the place, however, they were visited by the angels once again, reassuring them that their daughter would be okay in the county; that they would be there to protect and guide Evanora through her time there. So, the Melchoirs agreed to let Evanora go to Los Angeles to study English Literature at UCLA and drove her there for the start of her semester. They struggled to leave her again but they had the reassurance that their miracle would be okay. Now Evanora is hoping for her own small miracle to happen; finally free of her parents’ suffocating grasp, she longs to be herself more and be free from the cage that she’d been kept in for so long. 

#* EVANORA { BIOGRAPHY } #long post tw

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

9.5.23 Tuesday

4:27 am

I'm home, still have windblow trap angels...

Whew! Not that confident on this job but I hope they will give a consideration of taking time or as time goes by... But this is really a challenge for me...

Well, the learning documents are somehow will flow in circular pattern meaning they made it difficult and a lil complicated... It seems created by a set of lawyers...

I feel panicky and I still need a back-up...This is a challenge for me now coz I needed money.

Champi was somehow arrogant as well as the new girl named Ana but they are nice but a lil arrogant... But Champi was a bit arrogant awhile ago for saying that " not all people are fast learners and not all are having fast brain nerves"... For me you don't have to verbalize it... It sounds kinda airy.... It wasn't good to hear but as educated person you're not going to add some comment to make a fire...

I'm there to work, I'm ohkay with everyone of wave 468 but my friend is Mia...

You can't please everyone to accept you but be a mature living being there to work...

I have windblow trap angels... Hoping to relax my mind and absorb everything coz we can't access the prodouct documents only inside the work location unlike in pharmaceuticals you can have a copy of the entire medicines or list of medicines that you have to memorize as well...

I still feel fat,old and wrinkled....I need to keep this job in Iqor... I hope I can do my abs later...

Coach Gian will be our main coach all through out, I'm cool of it and just chill coz he is calm and nice...

I need to familiarize the different cases of navigating tools...

5:25 pm

There is more later....Goodnight angels...

10:26 am

Still having windblow trap? Trap?

Cooking porridge for our Neko the rottweiler... I need ingredients and I wanna cry... Uncle DD is not yet giving his assistance on Neko...

Let'z go back to what happened last night... I don't wanna appear arrogant but it is the way of people in Manila, I was once a medical representative I passed the exams it was really difficult and hard those days... I was with Pan Pharma it was a "french company", the daughter's owner of that company was so nice from Ateneo and we were mostly from De La Salle...

During my time in Pan Pharma I was with different workmates like an older man who was starting again that time that he was our supervisor but of course since he was older than us, we never commented but he was on the field for so many years but he had a hard time on the paper exams... But on the field he was really a skillful medrep...

There was a PT graduate as well, I was 24 that time and that PT graduate was around 35 years old in our time as med rep, that woman had a hard time to blend with us coz she was older than us already... But me as a younger employee I never commented a negative thing even the other younger women even the other medreps... It is really a matured world angels...

As a medrep I was stand alone but I had a good relationship with everyone but the nature of the job was hellish...You have to go on your own, by yourself only, handle your area on your own... We were somehow friends but on selling and advertising the medicine, you're the only one who can save your ass but I was babyish those days... There are so many medreps in the Philippines...

The exams in Pharmaceutical is fatal hahaha and now I wonder why I resigned??? Yeah! I was a child back then... I got a job,I could easily go in then resigned then I got a job, I could go in again again then I resigned...

In this field in call center it is somehow difficult for me but it is a challenge and a personal journey... I told you angels this is my present blessing and it is the thorn on the roses that makes me bleed but I love to beat it...

I just wonder who made those documents it seems a killer? But who will they kill? A 21? Or me? Hahaha I don't know...

There is a video on TV that a woman is advertising the company,the surname is "Navarro"... I wonder if they have link on tv...

2:47 pm

It is so relaxing angels to do my abs and sweat out... It removed my down emotions...

Punch on my tummy,I'm in Iqor ( naisisikmura ) but hoping for a genuine intention... If they don't like me or anyone or someone, just be professional... I badly need money and I need to keep this job in Iqor for a long while...

I wanna settle up with someone I find amusing like the foreigner on TV in Iqor if not then I need to keep on working...

Marriage is different,it is a very sensitive topic.

2:52 pm

I'm really into flattening my tummy...

About that particular documents in Iqor that COR or change of responsibility about the deceased on 21 means death??? Who made that documents???

#Youtube