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#and it seems 2020 just gets worse and worse day by day
flammaelunae · 2 months
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me 2020 - 2023, mostly low on money: I pay so much for this health insurance and I never even use it, I see the point of it in a social state but it sucks sometimes
me from the middle of 2023 on: *needs to visit an orthopedist, gets into a car accident and an ambulance is called, gets driven into a hospital, visits the same orthopedist six months later bc the problem re-occured, starts psychotherapy*
that insurance is for sure of use now, but I wish it wasn’t 👍🏻🥲
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mako-ink · 5 months
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I caught a cold + had a bunch of midterms and stuff to make up from health issues so I’ve been quite “unproductive” with art when right now I’d rather be drawing much more bc I was able to get back on top of my work after my hospital visit a couple weeks ago, but god loves to spit in my face every time I either recover or have free time so! I will be resting for a bit further, hopefully I’ll feel better soon and actually have some stuff to post before Halloween comes.
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vettelsdarling · 6 months
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Darling, thank you for the AMAZING writing for my last request. <3 I am here with…HAMILTON! Here’s the prompt: 5+1: 5 times Lewis calls Y/N by a pet name and one time Y/N finds one for Lewis. I definitely think Lewis would shower his words of endearment and I am imagining a shy, blushing Y/N? Perhaps Y/N wants to find the perfect word/nickname to call her special person. Let your creativity run wild! I leave the rest up to you because I love your writings (obviously). Have fun!
𝐏𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬
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Lissie note… I am so glad you like my stuff<3 Thank you for this request!!! I’ve never really written anything like it before, but it’s an interesting prompt and I’m willing to give it a try!
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Things to note
This is set in the 2020 season
Lewis and reader have been dating for a year and a half before that
Reader is an accountant
Tiffany appreciation
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Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Tiniest bit of angst. Blink and you might miss it
Word Count: 4.2k+
Playlist recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒
Taglist: @drugged-kitkat, @allwaysalleyway
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You were walking home from your 9 to 5 job the day you met him. He’d been exploring the city he was to race in that coming weekend. With your face buried in your phone, aggressively replying to unanswered emails— you accidentally sealed your fate with the asphalt, tripping and falling onto the road. Luckily, it wasn’t an active one. He’d seen you scramble to scrape all your things together and rushed over to help you. Never had you seen such generosity from anyone before. You were used to people minding their own business if you fell or if you dropped something.
“You didn’t have to,” you’d said. He had a number of things in his arms that had spilled out of your bag… including feminine products. He hadn’t seemed to care though. He’d happily helped you load your things back to where they’d belonged.
“Of course I did.” You had managed to collect yourself before falling into conversation with him.
“You’re not from here, are you? I know most people in this town…” He was a new face. Not somebody who you’d seen before.
“Guilty as charged. I’m here for work.”
“What do you do?” It was forward and he had been taken aback but ultimately came up with something to string you along to.
“I’m an engineer… of sorts. You?” ‘Engineer’ made sense to you, as his style was very out there and the designer watches were more than your yearly salary.
“I’m just an accountant.” In stark contrast to him, you had on a white blouse and a grayscale checkered pencil skirt. Your ordinary uniform. Freedom was something you had to give up when you came in for work.
“I see… you work near here?” He had just been following you, not really paying any attention to where your feet had been taking you.
“Yeah, I do. About five minutes from here. Is your workplace near here or are you working from your house or hotel?” Your intention hadn’t been to pry, but the genuine curiosity drove you to ask him anyway.
“I guess it’s near? I can’t really say…  if I’m being honest.” That was obviously not the best answer. He had every opportunity to tell you a white lie, but he slipped up somehow. Did it even matter though? He wasn’t going to see you again… was he?
Days turned into weeks. He had given you his number after getting you home safely that day. You hadn’t been in contact with him until he finally sent you a simple text: “Hey, it’s Lewis.” It had sent you spiralling. You hadn’t been sure whether to pursue the connection or let it slip. For better or worse though, you had replied with a short quip. Not intricate enough to suggest something, but not doing a full swing in the other direction either.
It was, however, enough to spark something between the two of you. A blossoming bud that turned into a bountiful garden. That was you and Lewis Hamilton.
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1. Trophy wife
The two of you had been dating for a few years. He eventually cracked, and told you about his actual job on the second date. Though his true identity was a Google search away, it came as a shock to you. Never had you ever believed him to be famous. He was so down-to-earth and humble.
Over the course of your years of dating, he had tried to make you quit your job. Mostly because he wanted to support you, but also because he wanted to spend more time with you. Every waking moment he wanted to spend in your presence. You refused and turned down every offer he gave you. Dating a celebrity was already more than enough for you to handle. You wanted normalcy in your life. Even if that came in the shape of hell sent bosses who cared very little about your well-being.
“You know I can cover you. If that won’t sell you, then Roscoe must. You could take care of him whilst I’m gone.” It was another day of his notorious begging for him to take care of you. It was a sweet sentiment, but even living with him was too much.
“I’m already taking care of him. Lewis, you can’t just make me a trophy wife. That’s not who I am. I want to work,” you said begrudgingly and seated yourself by the kitchen island.
“Trophy wife? Please. You will never be some sort of arm candy for me to show off. I love you. I just want you to take a rest, love.” Lewis decided to deploy a deadly weapon. The pet name. If there was one weakness you had— it was whenever he referred to you with a pet name. It made you all weak in the knees and your feet would feel like jelly. Forget about cloud nine, you were swimming in warmth.
“That’s not fair, Lew. You can’t just do that to me.” You scrunched your nose at him and checked your phone for incoming notifications from your workplace text chain. Or so you thought it looked like. In reality, you were hiding your face from him. It was redder than the apple in the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.
“Hmm, you know, I’m not so sure what you mean by that, my love.” Oh, how you wished he would stop. It was hard to resist giving in. Especially when he paired it with such a precious smile. Who’d be able to peel their eyes from that?!
“Look, we aren’t talking about this right now. I’ll be on my way now,” you scoffed and left, leaving your lover with the last laugh. Once again, you let him have his victory.
2. Flatscreen
A few months passed before he tried his luck again. With a new offer. Lewis tried to reason with you, but just like always— you simply would not have it.
“No. Never in a million years,” you snapped and closed the fridge a little too aggressively, remembering to mutter a quiet “sorry”. The Brit even got up early that morning to make you breakfast in bed— just for good measure. If you were in a great mood, surely you’d be more agreeable. Yet… he was utterly wrong. You were headstrong and did not agree one bit.
“You need it, sweets.” Again with the pet names. That was the final nail in the coffin for his begging.
“You can’t just expect me to splurge on a flatscreen simply to watch you race on more pixels! I can watch you perfectly fine on our current TV, thank you very much.” You poured him a glass of orange juice and scooped some protein powder in it as well. He drank it all in one go.
“Splurge? You won’t need to. I’ll buy it for you, okay?” He crossed his arms confidently and made sure to smirk like he always did whenever he tried to prove something.
“Okay? What do you mean ‘okay’?! You will not buy me a brand new flatscreen, Lewis.” Your face was flushed and your frustration was only piling up.
“You can’t tempt me with those things you call me. That won’t work.” Who were you kidding? You lived for his little pet names and those brief moments he’d hold you in his arms while the two of you stared into the early morning view.
“Whatever you say, sugar.” Oh, how you wish you threw the juice in his face instead of offering it to him.
3. Restaurant
You were standing next to Tiffany in the Mercedes garage. Both of you were wearing large headphones whilst watching the screens showing your boyfriends. It was hard not to make noise whenever Lewis overtook someone, but you were just able to contain yourself.
Tiffany was surprisingly calm and collected, but wasn’t afraid to groan and sigh if Valterri slipped up. You weren’t the type to show much of anything unless it regarded Lewis. It was something that you’d grown up with. A habit of sorts.
“How long have you been with Lewis by now?” Tiffany asked with a slight tug of her lip.
“A few years now… I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of each other.” You said that as if he didn’t bug you with his endless blabbering about wanting to spoil you and give you every black card he owned. 
“That is just too sweet! I can only wish that Valterri and I will last as long. I certainly love him.” In a way, you envied her position. She was a professional athlete, much like her partner, whilst you were stuck counting numbers behind a desk all day. She was gorgeous too… it was as if a strike of adoration hit you whenever she passed you in the paddock.
“Yeah… Lewis is something else.” You watched him speed past the camera on the screen. A smile spread across your face, knowing he was doing his best.
Lewis managed to secure a pole position, giving you a kiss as he saw you in the crowd with all of the Mercedes crew. Your heart swelled at the amount of attention he gave you rather than his engineers. Especially knowing he was dead serious about his career and his coworkers.
The podium celebration was magnificent. He sprayed the champagne as if he’d won the lottery. Butterflies formed in your stomach at his pure glee. He was adorable.
There was an after-party, but Lewis had other plans in mind. He wanted to take you out for the night. Even though you didn’t mind partying, there was something in him that held him back from letting you do so. It felt morally wrong of him to drag you along to his work retreats.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” Your face was pressed up against the car window. His hand was on your thigh, gently caressing it. You could almost feel yourself dozing off.
“You’ll see when we get there, honey.” That one was fairly new. It felt more domestic too. That was probably why your cheeks were hotter than an iron.
“You’re crazy,” you said with a chuckle.
“Crazy about you.”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll admit that was pretty lame.”
“Yeah, it was.” The two of you had a small laugh about it before turning some music on. The two of you had made a shared playlist. One that consisted mainly of your favourites. Since you had far too many, they outnumbered your boyfriend’s.
The ride was long, but the destination made it worth it. He’d driven you to a cliffside restaurant. It was quaint and cosy and had balcony seats. You could see the ocean and its waves cascading onto each other in a synchronized manner. It was beautiful. Lewis was a romantic. Not exactly what someone would expect at first glance, but he truly cared deeply for you and your needs. It was almost impossible to say no to him.
“Lewis… Thank you for this.”
“No, honey, thank you. I won today because you were here with me. It’s the first race you’ve come to in a while now.” The man was perfect.
“Yeah, and I’m sorry I haven’t been able to attend that many. My job won’t allow me and—”
“Hey- no- none of that. Stop making yourself the guilty party here. You’re doing what you love and you should not be worrying about me. I see you whenever I’m home and that’s enough for me.” Your fingers interlocked with his as he leaned in to peck your lips. The support he gave you couldn’t amount to anything you’d ever received from anyone. Even your own family.
“Thank you.”
“Anything for you.”
4. Bath
You were dead. Completely drained from your job. It felt like your body was that of a gigantic slug. You couldn’t move a single limb. Your brain had already checked out, so you were pretty much stuck. Being too tired to move, you decided to take a rest on the couch that you’d collapsed onto upon entering your shared home.
Your boss was a nightmare. He overworked everyone to the bone, and if you happened to pass into overtime, he refused to pay you for your extra hours. Was it fair? No. Was there anything you could do about it? Also no. You had to endure him for as long as possible. At least until you could find yourself a different company to work at. Quitting had been on your mind for some time, but with Lewis travelling all the time— you felt that you couldn’t just stay home all day. You still wanted to occupy yourself with a job.
The faint sound of Roscoe’s pattering paws could be heard inching closer. You didn’t mind looking after him. He was the sweetest and didn’t require much of you.
“I’ll take you out in 5,” you mumbled somewhat incoherently to the dog. He had politely plopped himself in front of the couch, staring at you with those adorable eyes. Your hand reached out to scratch him, as it would give you more time to stall and relax.
The more you contemplated whether or not to quit, the more you started leaning towards a self-destructive mindset. You wanted to work. You had to. It didn’t feel right for you to leech off of your boyfriend. That was simply not an option for you.
“I’m home!” You heard a strong voice boom throughout the house. It was Lewis, who had been out for most of the day. He was usually stuck in a billion meetings and was often hard to reach. You didn’t care about that though. You were just proud of him for working so hard. It made you feel guilty for not working nearly as hard as him.
“Hey, there you are. You don’t look well, are you ill?” He crouched down next to Roscoe to meet your face. Your eyes were closed due to the weight of your eyelids, but you lightly shook your head.
“I’m just really tired. Sorry, I didn’t take Roscoe out for his evening walk… I’m a bad dog mum.” Lewis chuckled lightly at the term you used to describe yourself. ‘Dog mum’.
“No need to worry about that. Your well-being comes first. How about I draw you a bath? I’ll take Roscoe out whilst you soak up some relaxing aromas.” If there was a ‘Boyfriend of the Year’ award, surely Lewis would win. He cared about the little things. The things you hadn’t even thought about.
“Thanks, Lew… you’re too good to me.”
“Nonsense. You deserve to be treated like royalty.” He stroked your cheek, causing your lips to tug upwards.
“I’ve been thinking about quitting.” You announced it out of the blue, but Lewis seemed unphased. Your eyes finally had some strength to stay open, so you looked straight into his. A mix of elation and calmness. That was your Lewis.
“That’s great. You shouldn’t work with a boss who doesn’t appreciate your efforts. Trust me, I would know. I’m lucky to have Toto, but I can’t even imagine working with some of the other team principals.” You knew about Williams’ fall from grace after the daughter of the former team principal stepped in.
“I don’t know though… I don’t want to stay home all day long and do nothing. I have to work, you know?” You had to face the music. There was no way you could quit and still be able to work. Accounting wasn’t special in Monaco. You were likely not someone a lot of companies were looking for.
“It doesn’t matter to me. I can take care of you, angel.”He really deployed your kryptonite. The name made your heart flutter as if the two of you were back in your honeymoon phase. It wasn’t fair.
“That’s a dirty trick, Lew. I’m not going to quit until I find a job I can replace my current one with. I’m sorry. It may not matter to you, but it matters to me.” Lewis got up and stretched before walking towards one of the many bathrooms,
“I’ll prepare a bath for you.”
5. New job
It had been a few months since you last brought up your work situation to Lewis. You had decided to continue until you’d eventually short-circuit. All that mattered was that you were a working girlfriend instead of a stay-at-home one. You didn’t have anything against that lifestyle in particular. It just wasn’t for you.
This day was special. You were cooking a vegan curry when Lewis came out of the shower to help you chop vegetables. It was a celebratory dish, as you had just been fired. Apparently, you had been doing ‘the bare minimum’ and that simply wasn’t good enough. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been devastating to be fired, but you were elated. It sure as hell was better than quitting.
“What’s got you in such a giddy mood?” Lewis came up behind you and hugged your waist. Your body leaned into his and it was as if you were floating on clouds. Fluffy clouds of love.
“I was fired.” He pulled away from you and got the cutting board out.
“This is great news! We should eat out tomorrow to celebrate.” He started chopping up some potatoes to dump in the pot.
“I was thinking this could be a celebration. Just you, me, and Roscoe. We could throw on a good movie and all.” Lewis didn’t oppose that idea. He smiled and nodded, continuing his feat with the veggies.
Then it hit you. You’d be jobless. You hadn’t found a job to replace the old one with. A pang of guilt hit you like a freight train. You somehow managed to overlook the fact all day. Your breathing became hard and heavy. You had to take a break.
“Woah woah woah, what’s wrong?” You saw Lewis with the kitchen knife and apron. His image was getting blurry from tears you simply couldn’t hold back.
“I thought we were celebrating? What’s going on? Are you okay?” He put down the knife, undid his apron, and pulled you out of the kitchen. Luckily nothing was boiling. 
“I just… I’m jobless,” you sniffled through your tears. The salty liquid coated your lips, and you could taste the despair. You slowly sank down onto the floor with him following suit.
“Well, that was the point,” said Lewis. You found it oddly comforting, but guilt still clung to every part of you. Like poison, you didn’t have the antidote for.
“I don’t want to burden you like that.” You were able to speak clearer after Lewis rubbed your back for support.
“You could never be a burden to me, okay? You are the reason I’m still standing here today with win after win. You motivate me to keep being strong and keep aiming for higher heights. How could you ever be a burden to me?” His words were like a warm hug. Your tensed muscles relaxed a little bit.
“I don’t know… I’ve never not worked before. I don’t exactly come from wealth,” you sighed. As much as it was about burdening your boyfriend— it was about your own values. Coming from what most would consider ‘middle class’, you always had to work harder than your peers. Monaco didn’t have time to wait around for you, so you always tried so desperately to catch up. It felt embarrassing. Your home country was just as forward and busy. There was never time for you. Working hard was a lifestyle that you had to pull off.
“Do you think I came from wealth? I didn’t. I worked my ass off to get here, and now that I have the means to spoil you. I want you to feel that you can take a rest, okay?” His reasoning was flawed to you. There was something about it that just couldn’t sway you.
“Lewis, I can’t be your trophy wife. I can’t.” You shook your head and swallowed hard.
“You won’t be. Think of this as your new job. You’ll have the responsibility to take care of Roscoe and keep the house clean and habitable. Is that not considered work?” There was no other offer on the table and there was no other option. The only way for you was that.
“Basically a housewife.”
“Darling, please.” Your stomach did cartwheels and the butterflies tumbled around in there.
“It’s okay. I’ll just have to make do,” you sighed and rested your face in your hands.
“Hey, at least you’ll be able to come to more of my races— if not all.” Wow, what a consolation… but he wasn’t exactly wrong.
“You know what? I have to make a call. I’ll be right back.” Lewis got up and made his way to the guest room for privacy. Meanwhile, you stared into the white ceiling. You felt so tiny. As if you were just a small speck of dust. An inconvenience. Muffled sounds were coming from the room Lewis had gone into. You could tell that it was about his job. Something that you already missed. Your boss was terrible, but at least you had something to do every day. At least he let you have 10-minute lunch breaks. Which, in retrospect, was far from enough time.
It took a while, but Lewis finally came back. His face looked as if he couldn’t contain himself. He seemed excited?
“Guess what.” He crouched down to meet your eyes.
“What?”
“You have a job.” He smiled and reached for your hand, helping you stand by supporting your waist.
“No need to rub in my new position as a housewife. I get it, Lew.”
“No. I pulled a few strings, and you’re going to be in the accounting department on my team.” Your eyes flew open in shock.
“What? Wait what?!”
“You get to work from home too, so it’s sort of like a compromise. You’ll be able to come to my races and you’ll be working like any other person. Your pay is higher than your last job too.” It was all too much, but you couldn’t turn it down after he’d just done something so grand for you. It’d be rude.
“Lewis, I genuinely don’t even know what to say. I mean, this is just amazing.” Your tears were all dried up on your face, and your eyes were gorgeous from them.
“You didn’t have to do this for me, you know?”
“I’ve told you so many times now; that I would do anything for you, darling.” Lewis was truly out of this world. His generosity and humbleness were his character. That was him. That was all yours.
+1. Handsome
The time had come for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix to commence. Lewis was in the running position to bring home yet another championship. He had been dominating all season, so there wasn’t really a question of whether or not he’d win. That fate was sealed. It was just a matter of if he could snatch the last win of the season. You certainly didn’t doubt his skills paired with his car. He was basically unstoppable.
“You did great in the qualifying sessions, I’m sure you’ll do great now. You’re starting from pole position. You’ve got this in the bag, I’d say so.” You smiled as he got into his race suit.
“I have no doubts. I’ve got my lucky charm with me.” He looked at you with a silly smile plastered onto his face. Cute.
“I believe in you, handsome,” you cooed and winked at him before walking away, leaving him with the effects of having been called a pet name, when he’s usually the one to get the fun out of you. He felt his chest tighten and tingle. Perhaps the race would be in his favour after that one.
You were seated next to Tiffany again. The two of you were too focused on the race to have an actual conversation. You were completely immersed in your boyfriend, hoping that he’d not only win but also stay safe. You were convinced he wouldn’t do anything reckless though. That wasn’t like him.
He didn’t win, but at the very least he scored a podium finish. You were still proud of him. He was the 2020 world champion.
The crowd surge towards the podium stand nearly crushed you several times, but you were able to get in front of everyone else to receive a heartwarming kiss from your lover.
“You did so well out there, baby, I’m so proud!” His heart nearly stopped when you called him that. You pulled him in for a hug, before letting the engineers embrace him. The smile on his face was immaculate, and you couldn’t wait for the ceremony where he’d rightfully receive his trophy. You had been to the same ceremony a year prior, but something felt much more special about this year. Both you and Lewis had grown so much over the span of it, it didn’t feel real, but at the same time— you couldn’t remember how it felt before.
Safe to say, you were definitely going to stick around for a long time. Losing his lucky charm would be detrimental after all.
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𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…
𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥���𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)
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walkawaytall · 2 months
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I really wish there was more interest in how to handle ADHD other than just addressing the symptoms that affect the people around us.
Like, the best pharmaceutical treatment we have right now is stimulants, and I agree that being on stimulants 24 hours a day, 365 days a year is probably not good for your body. Hell, I’m on a less-than-ideal dose of my medication from a concentration perspective because the ideal dose had my resting heart rate sitting at a cool 115BPM. I know taking med holidays is important. I know all of this.
But because ADHD isn’t just an attention problem (or may not actually be an attention problem at all at its core), it sucks that the only time period medical professionals seem to be concerned about treating are the “important” times: the length of a school or workday. Forget the fact that ADHD affects executive function, forget the fact that people with ADHD often experience chronic and unending anxiety and/or depression as a result of the ADHD, forget that there are important times that have nothing to do with an 8-hour school or work day, forget the rejection sensitivity dysphoria, the sensory issues that make things like clothing, food, and group situations a nightmare to try to navigate, the household stuff that has to be taken care of outside of the 8-hour school or work day. It feels like none of that matters because it doesn’t affect a group of fifteen or more people.
On top of ADHD, I have been plagued with anxiety-related issues for the majority of my life. I likely have a form of OCD and I have a history with a restrictive eating disorder; both of those conditions are very closely associated with high levels of anxiety. I’ve been on anxiety medications before. I was first given an as-needed medication that took the edge off but also made everything feel a little fuzzy, like there was a pane of glass between me and the rest of the world; I was put on an SSRI that somehow made my OCD-related intrusive thoughts about 50x worse than usual and had me wondering at one point if I should be hospitalized; and I’m currently on buspirone, which is doing what it’s supposed to do without the side effects of the others thankfully. But nothing, and I mean nothing, has reduced my anxiety as much as my ADHD medication.
Two hours after my first stimulant dosage, I just suddenly didn’t feel on-edge any more. I estimate that being on ADHD medication has reduced my anxiety by about 70% (buspirone’s for the other 30%). I started taking it in the summer of 2020 and I remember, in 2021, when I saw my boss in person for the first time since lockdown, he remarked on how much more confident I seemed, how I was more likely to speak up in meetings, etc. And I was like…yeah, man, it’s a wonder what not feeling anxious every second of every day will do for someone.
ADHD affects so much more of my life than just attention and anxiety, too. I have sensory issues with mine, which is pretty common, and they make eating — an already sometimes-complicated task due to the ED history — difficult at times because, while I can eat foods that I don’t particularly like, if something is what I call “the bad texture”, I will gag no matter how hard I work to overcome it (believe me, I’ve tried). And my brain sometimes decides that foods that were previously fine are now “the bad texture” and they may or may not shift back to being okay eventually; I don’t know.
The sensory issues affect me socially. My therapist and I have recently come to the conclusion that I’m probably not actually an introvert, but if I’m around larger groups, that means noise and movement and probably being touched, and too much of that causes my brain to either freak out or shut down. I used to always say, “I love people, but when I’m done, I’m done.” And that was likely because the overstimulation was building and building in the background, and at a certain point, my brain would just be like, “We gotta get outta here.” I was Queen of Irish Goodbyes for a very long time because of this.
And the executive dysfunction affects…well..everything? Not just work, not just school (but also those because if my environment is chaotic, my brain feels chaotic, and it is difficult to maintain a non-chaotic environment if you keep getting stuck on order of operations when picking up a room).
I’m not saying that I want to be on longer-lasting stimulants or that I want to be on the higher dose that I know helps my concentration more, cardiovascular system by damned. What I’m saying is, I wish treatment research had been more holistic rather than just figuring out what would give teachers and managers an easier time despite what the person with ADHD might be dealing with as soon as their meds wear off.
Maybe current research is working on it; I don’t know. I just know that, the older I get, the more frustrated I am with my brain and the more apparent the deficiencies I used to be able to counteract with pre-chronic-illness energy and crushing perfectionism become, and I wish there was an answer to this that actually helped me most of the time rather than forcing me to pick which parts of my day/week is “important” and making sure I’m medicated for those parts.
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principaliteas · 3 months
Text
On July 1, 2005, as I was getting into a taxi leaving my family’s home in Gaza City and heading to the United States as a 15-year-old exchange student, I poked my head out of the car’s window and told my dad to keep my room nice for when I came back. He replied, “Inshallah, it’ll be better than when you left it.”
I’ve never been back to Gaza. My dad, a former United Nations physician in the Jabalia refugee camp, died in 2020; the medical care that might have saved his life was not available in Gaza. In October, an Israeli air strike destroyed my family’s home. Last month, a different air strike destroyed the building in Rafah that housed much of my mother’s family, killing dozens, and wiping out what was effectively my second home.
The Israeli military operation launched in response to Hamas’s horrific October 7 attacks has done far more than degrade the group’s fighting capability. It has killed thousands of people, leveled entire neighborhoods, destroyed cities, decimated civilian infrastructure, and rendered large parts of Gaza uninhabitable. Innocent civilians in the Strip, including the surviving members of my own family, are suffering cruelly. A man-made famine is now unfolding, as hunger and lack of drinking water drive the desperate pursuit of survival. The conduct of the operation has repeatedly been criticized by leading experts in counterinsurgency, who argue that the well-being of the civilian population should always be front and center when fighting an asymmetric adversary. Instead, the ferocity of the Israeli bombardment and the killing of numerous civilians by Israel Defense Forces ground troops is convincing more Palestinians to view vengeance and violence as legitimate responses to Israel’s atrocities.
It pains me greatly that Gaza is exponentially worse off now than it was when I said goodbye to my father in 2005. Instead of coming back to a prosperous territory that is part of a Palestinian state, I live with the knowledge that my childhood homes are gone, half my family is dead, my people are displaced, and a just peace seems more elusive than ever. Yet it is precisely out of this desperate reality that my hope emerges for Palestinians and Israelis to embrace a fundamentally different path forward.
I left Gaza one month before the withdrawal of Israeli settlers, which many believed would usher in a new era of stability and peace. While I was an exchange student in the U.S., Hamas embarked on a massive campaign to convince Palestinian voters that its religious piety and armed resistance agenda were the perfect antidotes to the Palestinian Authority’s corruption and the Israeli occupation of the West Bank. The group claimed that its rocket and mortar attacks, infiltrations, use of tunnels, and deployment of IEDs against Israeli targets were responsible for pushing Israel out of Gaza. Hamas’s political rivals and opponents warned that if the group came to power, it would deliver only endless violence, wars, the delegitimization of the Palestinian national project, and the weakening of the Palestinian cause internationally and diplomatically. Figures within the PA warned the Bush administration against pushing for quick elections, predicting a Hamas victory.
I attempted to return to Gaza in June of 2006 but got stuck in Egypt when Hamas’s abduction of the Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit led to the closure of the Rafah crossing. Then Hezbollah’s summer attack resulted in a 33-day war between Lebanon and Israel. Months later, and with support from American friends, I returned to the U.S., where I applied for political asylum. My participation in the exchange program, which was sponsored by the U.S. State Department, made me a target for Hamas, amid its escalating civil war with the PA’s forces. My asylum interview took place on June 14, 2007, the very day that Hamas violently ejected the PA from Gaza and seized full control of the coastal enclave. Hamas swiftly set up a network of patrons, affiliates, beneficiaries, and unlikely allies to cement its control of Gaza and sever the Strip’s political ties to the West Bank.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been one of the chief beneficiaries of Hamas’s control over Gaza. He has found the group useful in his project of undermining Palestinian aspirations for statehood and dividing Palestinian leadership. Israel imposed a choking blockade on Gaza, at times calculating the minimum daily calories for civilians while, at others, using moderately less stringent controls. Permitting Hamas to dominate the society, economy, and politics of Gaza served the Machiavellian objectives of dark forces in Israeli politics. The Netanyahu government sought to contain and manage Gaza rather than pursue lasting solutions, allowing Qatar to send cash to the Hamas government, while failing to act on clear indications of Hamas’s growing military capabilities. Netanyahu thought he could make peace with many Arab nations, which share Israel’s fear of Iran, while entirely bypassing the Palestinian issue. October 7 demonstrated the folly of that approach.
The PA also grossly mismanaged its conflict with Hamas. It failed to outmaneuver the Islamist group, opting for maximalist positions that unnecessarily prolonged and entrenched Hamas’s rule. I received a vivid illustration of the failures of its approach in 2015, when I launched an advocacy organization to back the creation of a UN-administered airfield in the Gaza Strip. The plan would have prevented Hamas from having any control over the airfield, and would have fulfilled Israel’s legitimate security needs. The airfield offered the PA a golden opportunity to reestablish itself in Gaza through an infrastructure project that would have addressed a crucial issue facing Gazans: the lack of freedom of movement.
Officials within the Israeli government and military, the UN, NGOs, the U.S. government, and even Hamas all expressed their interest in the plan through intermediaries. Surprisingly, the primary opposition I encountered was from PA officials. They regularly displayed a lack of interest in Gaza, describing Gazans as unsophisticated and backward. The PA was so entrenched in its dislike for Hamas and its dismissal of the interests of Gazans that it wasn’t willing to consider any practical steps toward reestablishing itself and sidelining the group in Gaza.
During the most promising years of the Oslo Peace Accords, the Palestine Liberation Organization, Fatah, and the Palestinian Authority courageously acknowledged the need for peaceful coexistence with Israel as a Jewish nation. Hamas, however, not only eroded Israeli support for the peace process with its suicide bombings and violence during the 1990s and the early years of the Second Intifada; it also made belief in the peace process seem toxic, unpopular, treacherous, and cowardly among Palestinians. Through its horrendous yet skillfully executed violence, Hamas instead injected new life into the resistance narrative, which promoted a perpetual armed struggle to liberate all of Palestine.
Hamas regularly pointed to the failure of the peace process to roll back the occupation or to stop the expansion of settlements in order to argue that peace would never succeed. In fact, the peace process was imperfect yet viable, and was gradually on its way to ending the occupation, reversing settlement activity, and ultimately providing Palestinians with a path toward statehood and sovereignty.
Hamas deliberately sought to sabotage the peace process, weaken the PA, and undermine the pro-peace camp within Israel. Hamas, and to a lesser extent Palestinian Islamic Jihad, acted at exactly the same time that right-wing forces within Israel, often incited by Netanyahu and Kahanist extremists, were seeking to prevent Israel from offering any meaningful concessions to the Palestinians. Through its destructive actions, Hamas not only destroyed hopes for peace, but cynically empowered anti-Palestinian factions within Israel, whose ascent to political power would further harm the Palestinian people.
The former Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat sought to contain Hamas’s influence, jailing the group’s leaders and sending Palestinian security forces to arrest its members. Hamas, however, was able to use its popular support to pressure Arafat into hardening his negotiating positions and rejecting otherwise pragmatic proposals, such as 2000 Camp David Accords and the 2001 Taba Summit. Hamas has repeatedly disregarded the well-being of its people, and provoked ferocious retaliatory actions from Israel. The group that trumpets its resistance has, in practice, produced the death of many of its people, the loss of more land to subjugation, and the dehumanization of Palestinians.
Through its control of Gaza and unwillingness to operate under unified Palestinian leadership, Hamas wasted nearly two decades in building up a resistance citadel in the Strip. This directly weakened the PA and allowed Israeli settlements and occupation in the West Bank to grow and fester. The Palestinian people were rightfully resentful and angry at Israel’s violence and disregard for their lives, their lands, and their dignity. Scenes of horrendous violence and provocations, including in Jerusalem and at the al-Aqsa Mosque, inflamed tensions and made people desperate for an option that would allow them to hit back at Israeli injustices.
To many Palestinians, Hamas became an appealing alternative to the incapable, lethargic, and, at times, corrupt PA that was unable to defend its people against Israeli aggression. Before October 7, Israeli troops seldom operated inside Gaza; many Palestinians believed that Hamas’s armed resistance had successfully deterred Israel’s military from staging a ground invasion. In the same years, IDF troops were regularly raiding the West Bank, encountering little opposition. That contrast is one reason Hamas, its resistance, and its October 7 attack are especially popular among Palestinians in the West Bank.
Although the West Bank suffers from the consequences of settler violence, checkpoints, and military occupation, its people enjoy a significantly better quality of life than the besieged residents of Gaza. The West Bank offers exponentially easier travel to the outside world, drastically broader economic opportunities, substantially more infrastructure, and social freedoms and liberty from Islamist rules. In other words, Palestinians in the West Bank have not yet had to experience the consequences of living under Hamas’s rule.
October 7 was the deadliest attack in Israel’s history, and the single deadliest day that Jews have experienced since the Holocaust. The shock of this event has pushed some Israelis to seek revenge, inflict violence, or vent their rage against Gazans. Many Palestinians feel their own rage against Israel and what the Zionist project has come to symbolize, after facing 75 years of violence, occupation, and displacement.
The only way forward for both peoples is to make the difficult yet courageous decision to acknowledge their traumas and mutual humanity while recognizing that their fates, safety, and well-being are inextricably interconnected.
That starts with a just and equitable framework for the Palestinians to obtain political rights and the freedom of self-determination. Additionally—and the recent horrors in Gaza will delay this—the Palestinian people must come to terms with the futility of the armed resistance that has been sold to them by bad-faith actors like Hamas and its regional backers, and reckon with the limits of what can be obtained.
Resistance to occupation is a legitimate right, but it does not offer a blank check to commit violence against innocent people. There is a difference between what is effective and moral, and what is misguided and suicidal.
The past few weeks have been some of the most challenging in my life. I’ve tried to publish and share Gazan perspectives in media outlets and on social media, but I’ve found it difficult to navigate the vitriol and hate that I often receive in response. Despite creating a successful life for myself in the U.S., I will always have an unbreakable connection to Gaza through my family and community, who are experiencing unimaginable suffering. People on both sides of the conflict use things they like about what I write to bolster their entrenched narratives. The minute I offer analyses that challenge their own assertions and perspectives, however, they turn dismissive, and many resort to personal attacks in attempts to delegitimize and silence me.
Nevertheless, I’ve promised myself to stay true to my commitment to peace, coexistence, and the rejection of violence and hatred. In the face of dehumanization, this is, in fact, the only agency that I retain, and my only chance to make a difference.
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vodika-vibes · 2 months
Note
Hi Vodika 🥰
I'm back with a second ask for your follower celebration!
Could I get a Wolffe x Fem!Reader with a narcissus and pansy bouquet? Where the reader ends up in the hospital and Wolffe confesses his love for her when he visits and realizes how much she means to him?
Please and thank you 💚😘💚
@the-bad-batch-baroness
Accidents Happen
Summary: You've been crushing on Wolffe for, what seems like, forever. But you're convinced that he'll never feel the same. However, when you're injured at work, things change.
Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader
Word Count: 2020
Prompts: Narcissus - unrequited love, Pansy - you occupy my thoughts
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: You did say that Wolffe was on your brain! So I hope this story makes you happy! And here's your personal divider that I made for you. As a note This is Wolffe's message, and This is the reader's messaging.
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Early mornings are the worst, you think as your alarm goes off at 5 am.
You lay in bed for a moment, listening to your alarm scream at you from across the room, before you sigh and swing your legs out of the bed and push to your feet. 
Early mornings where you actually have to do work the whole day are even worse. You blearily cross the room and hit the button on top of your clock, before you flip the lightswitch, making it impossible for you to go back to sleep.
And then you cross back to your bed, and grab your comm from its charger.
Several messages from your friends from the night before. Several more from your boss from last night and early this morning. A handful of emails that need to be deleted or responded to in kind.
You sigh heavily, and open the app for your work. You quickly log in for the day, before you go back to your emails. You absently answer several work emails as you pad through the apartment into your kitchen.
You set your comm down on the counter, still scanning your emails, and you grab your electric kettle to fill it with water. You set it back on it’s stand and flick the power switch, before you grab your comm again and turn to leave the room.
You start to reply to an email when the dark blue bubble of your instant messenger pops up on the screen.
You up?
Your heart speeds up and your face heats when you see the simple words sent to you by Wolffe. Your crush on him is, frankly, embarrassing. 
Tragically. Morning Wolffe. What’s up?
Comet has been harassing me to remind you about the book. The one with the birds.
You stare at the screen blankly for a moment, You mean The Raven Emperor series?
How should I know? Probably.
You giggle, Wolffe, there aren’t any actual birds in that book.
I really don’t care, sarad.
Well, someone’s grumpy this morning.
You’d be grumpy too if your twin brother stole all of your caf.
What, the GAR doesn’t give you a caf supply.
The GAR wouldn’t give us armor if we didn’t need it to win the war.
You can hear him rolling his eyes across the text message, and it’s kind of impressive. 
Anyway
Me and the boys are going to 79s this evening
Coming?
I wish.
I have a building that I need to appraise, and it’s something like 200 apartment buildings. 
I’m going to be busy until midnight
🥺
Ah.
Well, next time then.
You wait a moment for Wolffe to say something else, but he went offline soon after.
I want to go on a date with you. Your finger hovers over the send button, before you sigh and shake your head, deleting the message. 
Wolffe would never be interested in you. Not like that.
You just have to be happy with his friendship.
And here you thought ‘love unrequited’ was just something in the trashy romance novels you read in secret.
You allow yourself to wallow for a whole 30 seconds, and then you remember that you still have to shower and eat breakfast, and you toss your comm on your bed as you hurry into the fresher.
The chat with Wolffe means that you don’t have time for a proper breakfast, especially if you give yourself time enough to shower properly, but you think it was worth it. He’s Wolffe, after all.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re scrambling out of your fresher, pulling your wet hair into a messy knot at the back of your head, and you hurry back into the kitchen. 
In your rush you accidentally pour some hot water over your thumb as you fill your travel mug with the water, and you release a pained hiss. “I don’t have time for this,” You say to the empty apartment. You eye the blister critically, and decide that it’s not worth the hassle of treating it
Quickly, but carefully, you finish putting your breakfast together, and you hurry out the front door.
Your boss wants you at the complex by 6 am.
And luckily, you make it. By the skin of your teeth, maybe, but you’re still on time.
“You’re almost late,” the stern looking older man scolds.
“The keyword there being almost,” You counter, as you look up at the building, “This is the Meridian Complex?”
“Yep.”
“You spent how much on this?”
“2.5 Million Credits,” He sounds proud about it.
“This is a death trap.” You point out, cringing as a fake shutter falls off a window three stories up.
“It just needs a little work.” Your boss says, and then he pauses, “You are up to date on your vaccines, right?”
“Ha. You’re hilarious.” You pull your datapad out of your car, and glance at the information on the screen, “You have the keys?”
“Yup, all of the door codes are set to 00000.”
“Noted.” You make a note on the datapad, “After you.”
Half an hour later, you realize that your conservative estimation of this taking until midnight was far, far too generous. This is going to take days.
You look around at the rotting floorboards, and at the graffiti and holes on the walls, and you sigh. At least the paycheck is going to be really nice.
“Hey! I think I found a half decent apartment!” Your boss calls from down the stairs, “Second floor, 209. We can use this as a staging room.”
“Coming!” You shake your head at the sheer mess, and half wonder if you could message Wolffe and ask for the Wolfpack to help. You laugh softly at the idea, the boys would be more than happy to help, you’re sure, but it’s not realistic.
You start up the stairs.
But, if he was willing to help, you could spend more time with Wolffe, which would be a win.
A weird noise makes you slow to a stop, and you pause, tilting your head to listen better.
“What are you doing?” Your boss asks from the top of the stairs.
“...I heard something-” You trail off as there’s a cracking noise under your feet.
Your boss’ face goes gray. “Hurry!”
You go to take one more step, when the cracking noise returns. And when you put your foot down on the stair…it keeps going.
You don’t even have time to scream as the staircase collapses under you.
The last thing you see as you topple backwards is your boss’ horrified face, and you hear a shout of your name.
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Wolffe is not having a super day.
On top of the fact that Fox stole all of the Caf and the fact that he’s been confined in his office doing paperwork all morning, the fact that the Wolfpack’s pretty sarad won’t be joining them at 79s tonight just shoved him into an awful mood.
Nights out are always better when she’s with them.
He glowers at the various documents that need his signatures. He should be grateful. He’s not Marshal Commander. He’s seen the amount of work that Cody, Fox, and Bly have on a daily basis.
He’s lucky that he is only a commander and he only has this much work to do.
…yeah, nope. That didn’t help.
He rests his head on his hand as he taps his stylus against the table. “When Alpha said that a command position was worth it, he was a filthy liar.” Wolffe announces to the room at large.
He should make Comet do this paperwork in exchange for the free time he’ll need to read that book series he’s going to borrow-
Wolffe’s thought process is cut off when his office door slides open and Comet bursts in, “Commander!”
“What is it?”
“Sarad is in the hospital.”
Wolffe’s heart drops into his stomach. He drops all of his work and grabs his helmet, “Which hospital?”
“Coruscant General. Sir, where-?”
“I’m going to go check on her, of course.” He pushes past Comet, “You’re in charge until I get back.”
“Yes, sir.” Comet pauses, “Let us know how she is?”
“I will,”
The trip to Coruscant General doesn’t take long, Wolffe is able to walk the distance. And, as luck has it, no one stops him when he enters the hospital properly.
“Can I help you sir?” The nurse at reception asks.
“I hope so,” Wolffe replies, before he offers her name, “I was told that she’s here.”
The woman nods, “Are you the husband?”
Wolffe pauses for half a second, “Yes, that's right.” He lies.
She nods again, “On the fifth floor, room 517.”
“Thank you.” He marches over to the lift, and presses the button for the fifth floor. Wolffe’s mind is whirling. How was she hurt? How badly? Does he need to set up a guard rotation for her?
Did someone attack her? Does he need to get the guard involved?
The lift comes to a stop and he steps out, and heads to the nurses station. He offers her name once more, and again, lies about being her husband, and he’s pointed in the right direction.
The door is shut, and Wolffe lightly knocks on the door. He doesn’t get a response, but he pushes the door open anyway.
“Sarad?” The lights are dimmed, but not so much that he’s not able to see her.
She looks…bad.
Covered in bruises and bandages. Various machines attached to her, monitoring her heart rate and blood pressure and giving her IV medication.
“Oh, cyare.” Wolffe walks over to her, and looks her over. Every inch of her is covered in angry looking bruises or cuts. “What happened?” Gently, very gently, he brushes a strand of hair out of her face.
A lot of the tension he hadn’t realized that he was carrying drains from his body now that he’s sure that she’s not dying or dead.
It’s kind of funny, in a way.
Sure, he’s always known that his sarad was important to him. He’s not been blind to the fact that she’s always on his mind and that he never isn’t thinking about her. But he didn’t know just how important until this very moment.
Wolffe’s fingers linger on her cheek, and he’s startled when he hears a soft moan from her. “Sarad?”
Hazy eyes peer up at him, confused, “‘lffe?”
“Yeah,” He smiles at her, “It’s me. How are you feeling?”
“...wh’re?”
“You’re at Coruscant General, you were hurt, do you remember?”
Her fingers flex, and Wolffe takes her hand in his free hand, “Stairs,” She mumbles, some of the haze leaving her voice, “The stairs collapsed-”
“Unlucky,” Wolffe says quietly, as he sets his helmet on the side table and then sits in a seat, “How are you feeling?”
She’s quiet as she considers his question, “...fuzzy.” She finally says.
He chuckles, “I’m not surprised, by the look of it, you’re on some good pain medicine.”
“Wolffe?”
“Hm?”
“Why are you in the hospital? Are you hurt?” She asks, her brow furrowed as she tries to puzzle it out.
“Come on, Sarad. You know the hospital doesn’t treat clones.” Wolffe brushes his fingers across her lips, “I’m here for you, of course.” He pauses, “I also let everyone believe that I’m your husband. Sorry.”
She hums, “I don’t mind.”
“That I lied?”
“Being your wife.” She clarifies, “Sounds like fun. Let’s do that.”
Wolffe laughs, “I think we’re skipping a couple of steps, Sarad.”
She hums again, her eyes fluttering closed, “Don’ care. Love Wolffe.” She mumbles.
His breath catches in his throat for a moment. And then a wide grin crosses his face. “Are you still awake, cyare?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I love you.” He whispers into her ear, and then he presses a light kiss to her temple, “You’re not going to remember this when you sober up, and that’s okay. I’ll just tell you again and again, as many times as you need.”
She smiles at him, the drugs hitting her hard again, “Stay?”
“For as long as you want me, sarad. Promise.”
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pspkisser · 6 months
Text
⚙️ This laptop was saved from obsolescence! [10 mins of read]
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Hello!! i am making this post here to raise awareness for PC and laptop upgrades, and how it should motivate you to do that same thing to preserve yours for longer or to give it the power you need! this will feature my history with mine, as well as the steps i took to be able to make him breathe life better! this is the story of his journey, and how it went to this current day.
his name is samuel, he is an asus fx570u and i bought him back in september of 2018 after i turned 13! he was brand new during that time and priced at 800 euros, offering only 6 gb of memory and an HDD as his specs. however he does have an 8th gen core i5 as his cpu and a geforce 1050 ti for his gpu. for something marketed as a gaming pc, it's pretty low and it wouldn't allow him to run fast enough, especially for highly demanding software and causing some compatibility issues. it wasn't severe, but as i was stuck with an hdd, that meant operating systems would run pretty slow on it, also leading to long software loading times. this is made worse by the fact that its bundled system, windows 10, isn't designed to work efficiently on hdd in the first place, but at least that means i have my hands on a windows key to be able to use some windows exclusive programs..
i mainly used him to be able to use advanced video editing software and customize the games i have on it for my own taste, because back then i loved making youtube videos and it was a passion i've had for years until i've partially retired from it. i rarely bought games on it and instead opted for free-to-plays, and overall had a good time with him.
unfortunately within only 3 months, his HDD broke down and i sent him to technicians for them to replace it with another one. it was a minor accident i've had but it formatted all my data, even though it didn't matter much since i uploaded most of it to the internet. i just had to be gentle with him by trying to not moving him around too much to stop that issue from persisting... but it was still low-end in terms of system performance. i finally used him for 1 year straight before moving on to a tower pc, feeling tired about his slowness and believing i couldn't do much about it.
i used that other (unnamed) pc for almost a year, starting from 2020! they seemed to work better since it had windows 7, but embarrassingly enough that version itself stopped receiving official security updates months before i started using it, even though i was careful while accessing the internet with it. its performances were also low, but didn't really matter much since i didn't take so much advantage from the power of samuel. suddenly, i had the foolish idea of installing windows 8.1 on the latter to try to deal with the performance issues on 10, but it led to even more compatibility issues since the drivers i used were meant to be for 10 only. only by early 2021, i got win10 back on him and started using him again to get more power again.
so the low-end performance persisted for very long. back then i never knew how to upgrade pcs, so i was only used to replacing devices with others which wasn't cost-efficient. after realizing i used windows for well over 10 years, i had the idea of switching to a mac and as a result, for xmas 2021 i got myself a cute yellow silicon imac, who goes by the name of sarah! but switching to macos posed new serious challenges, such as getting used to the lack of windows compatibility and the missing features that i was used to for a long time. most of the creativity i did with her was drawings with firealpaca and krita, and cgi with blender, which wasn't really much. still, she is pretty glossy and also powerful for many of the tasks i'm performing with her. originally i also intended to sell samuel, but that never happened (i low regret that decision so much i swear).
in late 2022, samuel's performance apparently had had a big hit... he now takes approximately 20 seconds to open any program and it seemed to me like something was wrong with him. at that time i also gained interest in linux since it's a libre OS capable of much more flexibility, essentially allowing it to revive old PCs. i finally decided to get linux mint to work on him via a dual boot with win11 (what was i thinking when i "upgraded" him from 10?). the performance seemed a little better from then, but programs still took very long to open. for that reason, he had often been collecting dust as he finally became unusable.
finally we've reached 2023. this is the year i decided to take on tearing down devices to learn how to examine problems inside of them. after checking samuel's performance again, i noticed that his HDD was having extremely low writing and reading speeds compared to my tower, which made me feel disappointed. but that's when i finally decided i could be able to replace his hard disk with an ssd, a new generation which is more durable, faster, quieter and energy-efficient...
but i still had a good wait until it was possible. suddenly with my money, i found an ssd which only costed €30, and it made me happy that this would be a quick way of healing up samuel! so i rushed to get it, and finally opened him to prepare everything... unfortunately, his keyboard has to be lifted up in the process, and there are flex cables connected between it and the motherboard. but taking out the hard disk thankfully only requires a few steps; removing some screws, then inserting the SSD inside of it. after that i quickly put linux mint back into him. SO SPLENDID...
for only the price of a high budget indie game, now he can open programs very fast, close to how fast sarah can do, and just about any task works perfectly well on him with way less bugs! thanks to that fast upgrade he's become viable for daily drives again, even though i don't have other desks suitable for pcs which makes me less motivated to use him. really wish id be able to since the architecture he has (x64) means he has a lot more software he's able to handle natively...
but then, i hadn't upgraded his ram. i said before that he only had 6 gb of it, and that meant he could only work with a few programs before becoming bloated. and as i like doing power tasks on him, that obviously causes problems. so one day, i went to a pc part store out of curiosity, and became shocked when i found small ram carts that could be compatible with my laptop. after some talk with the seller, i bought 2 ddr4 carts each containing 8 gb and clocked at 2666 mhz, more than double of what i used to have. after that it was time to take on a challenge to be able to insert them myself.
when the seller asked me if i needed assistance to have the carts inserted into my laptop, i giggled internally because of my past stories with learning how to open devices and trying to troubleshoot or modify them internally. i obviously declined it which saved me money, but also meant i had to do it all myself. after an hour of painful manipulations which required me to take out the entire motherboard from samuel, while that next step was also difficult i was finally able to insert the carts into it, before placing all his components back into place. and after such a long time of waiting...
i've finally done it!
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Samuel is feeling very well right now!! despite his cpu and gpu dating from over 5 years, now he can do even more tasks at a time, while also being able to read them faster, a massive improvement compared to when it was stuck with an hdd and only 6 gb of ram. i'm guessing those low specs were for the purpose of saving manufacturing costs, but until you'd find use for the components that you'd remove, they'd end up becoming waste. and with a free os like linux mint, it adds up to an even more optimized experience than windows 10, which comes with so many unwanted stuff and can't be customized very well.
have you had a similar story to mine? did that pose you challenges? i took over 40 minutes to write this entire piece of text, but it should at least be very well detailed! on the best case scenario i hope it would inspire others to do some research on upgrading PCs to preserve their lives and especially save costs. Thank you for reading the entirety of it, don't hesitate reblogging it if you think it would interest your own audience! peace for all of you 💙
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strangebiology · 3 months
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How Funding Affected my Journalism Jobs
The different places I’ve worked as a journalist, and in related fields, have all had different funding. Here are my experiences at different places–and it seems to me that grant-funded stuff is the best. 
Internship at Nat Geo
Grants sponsored both of the other interns, but not me. Nat Geo makes a lot of its money through things like books at TV.
Mine was low-paid, but probably normal for an internship in 2016? LOVED the experience. Freelance at Nat Geo afterward was MUCH better paid. $14/hour part-time. IDK how much the grant-funded interns made. 2016.
Fellowship at PBS Newshour
A grant from the National Science Foundation funded me, but PBS is state-sponsored media. Interestingly, that’s a huge red flag in China and Russia, but I found the US-funded Public Broadcasting Service very fair to its subjects. Good experience, but even worse pay, at $13/hour full-time. 2016-2017
Job at Newsweek 
Their funding is from clicks. This place was crazy bad and paid garbage. Everyone hated it and almost everyone quit, unless they were being fired for making a living wage. Some people even got fired for accurately reporting on the company itself on assignment from their editors–there was no obscuring it, that was cited as their reason for termitation. Newsweek is Hellfire and damnation. I suspect the nonsense demand for 5 stories/day/person and silly demand that we make them go viral stemmed from the following: the fact that the company primarily made its money from clicks and higher-ups didn’t appear to care about the long-term reputation of the company or its reporters, and perhaps an ego-fueled refusal to try to understand what actually got clicks. $39k/year. 2017-2018
Freelance at VOX 
Funded by clicks/ads and grants at the time, but halfway through they started a contribution campaign. The difference I noticed between VOX and Newsweek was that VOX practices were smarter and they actually paid attention to analytics and sane business practices. Also, it's much easier to qualify for and get grants if you're actually doing good journalism, so I don't believe that Newsweek's policy of "lots of garbage" was actually business-savvy in any way.
Vox was a good experience, even though I wasn’t working as a journalist, but doing SEO/social media for journalists. $35/hour, then $50/hour part-time. Then I was laid off due to the pandemic. 2019-2020
Freelance at Alzheimer's Association 
Remote, not really journalism, but I liked it anyway. Nonprofit, so, funded by donations and grants. $65/hour part-time. 2021
Job at Bay Nature
My job was entirely funded by a grant. Odd situation–I got the grant and I could bring it to any legit journalism employer. Bay Nature was supposed to contribute 40% of my salary but flexibility happened and they just paid health insurance and such. They got basically no money at all from clicks, like, pennies a year. Not much from subscriptions. They have fundraisers, and at the time, there were 3 writers/editors and 2 fundraisers on staff. Later they hired another writer whose entire salary was paid by a philanthropist, and then I’m told they got another salary funded by a UC Berkeley journalism grant program. So, like half of their editorial staff was grant-funded.
Great experience, but low pay for the Bay Area. $50k/year, all from Poynter-Koch, 2021-2022.
Freelance at Politifact
A nonprofit and they probably get lots of grants. My particular position was also funded by a grant entirely. Loved it. $250/article fact check. 2022. 
Book
REALLY love it. $50k is from MIT Press, which is a not-for-profit, and it gets some grants and endowments. Then I got $56k from a grant from the Sloan Foundation on top. 
Future? 
I also got $500 (plus gas and hotels) to attend a day of learning with a program called Investing in Wyoming’s Creative Economy, and that means I’m one of 100 people eligible to apply for 10 $25k grants for future projects. The idea is to support creatives to stay in Wyoming and have sustainable businesses here. Maybe do some art that will bring in tourists. 
_____________________
Note that a grant sort of does, and sort of doesn’t, mean free money. It means money to support a project that usually has to have a mission and a public good, like educating the public. You don’t pay these back, and the org giving the grants doesn’t require a percentage of the profits or anything. But, for instance, the $50k grant from Poynter-Koch was more like a gift to Bay Nature, so they could pay me, and I worked for a year to actually have the funds. 
However, I’m not yet convinced that there is any objectively good funding model to ensure the most fair and accurate journalism. In theory, the capitalistic ones would be the best, but the public desire to read inflammatory stories about how their political enemies are evil, or a different generation is full of idiots, adversely affected the accuracy of headlines at Newsweek IMO.
You might think that the worst funding source would be Poynter-Koch, which is a program run by Poynter and funded by the Charles Koch Institute. But neither Poynter nor Koch even asked me to tell them what I was writing, let alone try to stop me from writing it. (Poynter hosted mentor-led auxiliary groups to talk about our careers/lives and such, so the topics of our articles came up sometimes if we chose to share that.) 
Anyway, I’m thinking of writing an article on how funding models affect journalism, for better and worse. There are some high-profile examples of grant funding causing harm. But for now, the above is my experience–pretty much all good, except not enough funding sometimes. 
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marshallpupfan · 4 months
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I'm about to make yet another lengthy post... easily my longest yet. This time, it's not about the movies or any issues I have with PAW Patrol in its current state. No, it's instead about a problem I've been dealing with... except said problem is less a what and more of a who. I'm sure some of you already know about this, but for those of you that don't, let me tell you about a person who's been a thorn in my side for three years now.
Back in October of 2020, I encountered a user who seemed to be doing the whole Daily Marshall Pics as me. However, I soon discovered they weren't just doing the same thing... they were actually using the exact screenshot I posted, the exact same hashtag, and quite often, the exact same text. They did this for every daily I posted... or just any picture, really. As soon as I'd post something, they'd immediately take it and repost it onto their account. At the time, I didn't know what to do, or if I could do anything.
Cut to around December of the same year, and I decided to make a new winter-themed avatar and banner for my Twitter account. Less than a day later, that user seen I did that and... no joke... took both and applied them to his own account. Suddenly, with him posting the exact same content with the exact same avatar and banner, his account looked exactly like mine. Some people even admitted they thought he WAS me, and a few were starting to get seriously confused. At this point, I started referring to him as my copycat, since anything I'd do or post, he'd do or post it, too.
However, this time, I confronted the user and asked him why he took my new avatar and banner. He claimed he liked them so much, he had to use them. I asked him not to, telling him that I put a lot of work into making something unique for myself, and of course, he got mad... and then, in the same reply, asked me to make something for him. Just to be nice, I made him a banner... to which he offered no gratitude.
He wouldn't change the avatar, so I created myself a new one. Not even a day later, the exact moment he seen it, he took that avatar and applied it to his account, too. Yet again, I confronted him, demanding to know why he'd do that, as well as why he didn't even thank me for making that banner I made for him. He responded by claiming that I "made him cry"... and then quickly asked me to make him an avatar, too. I ignored his request.
Near the middle of December, a pal here on Tumblr messaged me about a concern he had. He made a text post about his plans to start his own daily pics, and that user on Twitter, now on Tumblr, copied and pasted his exact post onto his own account. If he copied all of my posts, he was surely going to do the same to my pal, too. We knew we had to put a stop to this, so we came up with a solution...
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On December 18, 2020, I posted my first Daily, with text indicating it was mine. We were both curious to see how that copycat would react once he seen it.
He... didn't take it well.
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This was actually his fifth message; he left four other ones, mere minutes apart from each other. When I didn't reply back after ten minutes (yes, ten minutes), he said this to me. Once I seen this, I blocked him, as anyone honestly would. He quickly followed me with some alternate account of his, but I found out it was him and blocked it, too. Afterwards, I figured this was going to be end of it; just another rude, childish person on Twitter, blocked and out of my life...
...right?
Nope. Ever since that day, he's been absolutely furious with me. Even to this day, he's refuses to let it go, and his copycat tendencies and attitude has only grown worse. Ah, but let's not get ahead of ourselves... no, there's more to the story. A lot more...
To say the least, when he left that message above and found out I blocked him, he started bad-mouthing me to many other people. Just about everyone took my side, and much to my surprise, Twitter banned him. At first, that seemed like the end of it again... but nope, he simply created another account not even a half-hour later... and he went back to using my avatar and banner again, because of course.
Less than a month later, another account started following me, this time themed around Chase. Suspiciously, I was one of the first it followed... and one of the first replies they left on my tweets?
"Can you remove your watermarks?"
Gee, I wonder who this might be? I ignored the message, and their third reply was... well, I'm sure you can guess it wasn't friendly.
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I blocked this account, too. Again, I hoped this would be the end of it, but of course, it wasn't. You see, the one thing I learned about this user is that he's incredibly lazy. He doesn't want to do things in Photoshop or go hunting for pictures, so he just wants to take everything from me... and the official PAW Patrol account (he constantly reposts their content, too). When I stopped him from doing that, he became hostile. When I refused to remove my watermark, it just made things worse.
I don't have a picture of this, but a few days later, he created yet another account. This time, he pretended to be the "second official PAW Patrol account", using the actual PAW Patrol account's avatar and banner at the time (themed after Moto Pups, if I recall correctly). Naturally, I'm the first one he went to, and he left a reply on my latest daily about how I'm going to get into "trouble" if I don't stop being mean. I tore into him for this, telling him that no one will take his side, Twitter will just ban his account again, and to leave me alone.
He deleted the account less than a day later.
Things remained quiet for some time... or so I thought. From what others told me, he kept trying to get everyone to turn on me, usually by sending private messages to many users in the hopes of getting them to see me as some sort of bully. His plan failed, as nothing ever came out of it. Maybe it has to do with the fact I like trying to be positive and encouraging, and many of my followers have seen that over the years... whereas he's screamed at people for simply putting stickers on their Nintendo Switch. No, seriously... he has.
He kept trying, of course... often asking other users to tell me how "sorry" he was, despite the fact he kept leaving me nasty remarks the very same day. In fact, at one point, the Nick Jr. Twitter account made a post about asking their followers to post pics of their pets, I did so, Nick Jr. replied to me, and he found out and replied to them by saying "DON'T TALK TO HIM HE'S A BULLY HE'S MEAN TO ME!!!!" Needless to say, they ignored him, too.
This continued for a while, and over the following months, new accounts would pop up every now and then, usually based on certain PAW Patrol characters. They were all ran by him, and of course, I was always the first person he came to... and he'd always ask me to create a new avatar and banner for that account, and then he'd get mad when I either said no or ignored him. After so many accounts, I got tired of constantly blocking him, so when he popped up with yet another Marshall-themed account, I decided to just mute it and let him do or say whatever he wanted.
...He didn't take kindly to that, either. A few months later, he exploded into a fit of rage, claiming that I was being a bully by ignoring him. Let me repeat that; by ignoring him, I was being a bully. Oh, for Pete's sake...
A few folks took his side, but once I explained to them what was going on, most of them understood and apologized (trust me, I harbor no ill will against these folks). Once I made another tweet about the situation, I blocked that user yet again, noticing that he was continuing to badmouth me. I think he ended up deleting his account, telling everyone that's what I apparently wanted (I never once said any such thing, but whatever). I crossed my fingers and prayed that this would finally be the end of it all... but of course, it wasn't.
After a while, he came back with yet another account, only this time, he got a little less lazy. He finally decided to learn how to use a photo editing program... and how did he use his new-found skills? Why, to copy me again, of course!
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Indeed, his dailies started to look exactly like mine. And yes, once he discovered the name of the font style I was using, he started using that, too. And it's not just a coincidence that he used the same pic...
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As I soon realized, if he knew the exact episode I got my daily from, he'd use the same one. He did this at any opportunity he could, even when I posted a daily based on the first theatrical film.
At this point, some of you probably asking... why? Why's he doing this? Why go to such lengths to copy me? The answer is... I really don't know. He just really wants to be me, I guess.
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Anyway, around the beginning of 2022, I created a new template for my Daily Marshall Pics. I'm still using that template now. Of course, when he found out, he got upset and started screaming at me again to make one for him (using another newly-created alternate account to get around me blocking him... which I promptly blocked).
What followed over the next year was the situation getting worse and worse. If I did anything of note, he'd create new accounts to voice his displeasure. If he got banned, he'd create a new account and head straight for me. There was a point where I blocked him, he created a new account, I blocked him, he created a new account... and we did this for eight accounts within a single day. I'm dead serious. Of course, his copycat tendencies just got worse, as his new-found skills in editing started leading him to do stuff like this...
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Yup, he started covering my watermark with his own to make it seem like he was the one who made the picture. Oh, and it didn't just stop at pictures... nope, he did it with videos, too.
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Actually, Twitter banned him for this one... and yes, he created a new account immediately afterwards again, and continued doing and posting the exact same things like it never happened. And I'm the first person he tried following, of course. But hey, at least his dailies don't look like mine anymore, right?
Sigh...
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And no, it didn't even stop there. He tried to copy my banner, too.
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Yes, his avatar shares similarities with mine, too. Funnily enough, a few users came to my defense and tried to get him to change his Daily template to something different so it would no longer look like mine. Surprisingly, he did change it, and I even gave my approval. I was cool with his new template...
...but I guess it didn't get him the attention he wanted, because he went right back to using something that looks exactly like mine again. He's still using it now, much to my annoyance.
The sad thing is, even if I change my template to something else, he'll just inevitably copy it. If I change my avatar and/or banner, he'll copy them, too. If I do anything, he'll copy it. If my followers come to my defense, report him, and he gets banned... he'll just create another account and continue doing the exact same thing anyway.
Oh, and he once made the claim that he's only doing this because he "doesn't know how to". Yes, he said that. He apparently doesn't know how, yet he sure knows how to cover my watermark with his own... and create a template that looks like mine. Yup, he's a dirty liar, too.
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(Back in 2020, I did try to answer a few of his questions, including what editor I use. Once I told him it costs money, he went silent.)
As a reminder, this has been going on for three years.
I've tried ignoring the user, and it does no good. I've confronted him, and it does no good. I've asked him to stop, and it does no good. I've defended myself, and he acts like he's the victim. I ask him to let his anger go and stop, and he tells me I'm the one who needs to let it go and stop. Others have defended me, and he just whines and claims I'm a bully. And all of this is because I blocked him for leaving a rude reply when he lost his patience after ten minutes.
(By the way, someone confronted him about the whole ten minutes thing. He said it didn't matter, that I should've responded right away. I guess I'm supposed to stop everything I'm doing to reply to him...?)
To tell you all the truth, I've tried to be patient. I've tried to be nice... but after three years, I'm sick of it. This person is psychotic. Even when I block him, he keeps a tight eye on everything I do. He's become so obsessed with me, to the point that he's basically a stalker now. He wants to be me, yet he doesn't possess my skills, and that jealousy has turned to sheer bitterness. And whenever someone takes my side, he becomes aggressive, often creating even more alternate accounts to show he's not happy.
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And yet, he thinks he's the victim. He's said before he wants me to stop talking about him, yet he continues taking or copying things from me. And again, when I ask him to stop, he refuses. At this point, I suppose he's only doing this now because he feels justified in doing so. I guess he thinks I need to pay for... what, not replying back after ten minutes? For wanting to be credited for my work when I make unique content and post them on my account? For trying to stop him from lazily reposting the things I post for his own gain?
When I started these MarshallPupFan accounts, I thought I was going to post some pics of a cute, cartoon puppy, make people laugh and smile with some videos, and have a fun time. I never expected I'd run into someone so... crazy. Honestly, I don't even care that he's posting daily pics of Marshall. I've seen others do the same, and I've even liked, replied and followed some of them. I enjoy inspiring others to be creative and share their love for their favorite characters... but why use my exact template? Why try to look exactly like me? Why not try to develop an identity for himself, so his account offers something unique? Instead, he constantly wants to bounce off of me, pretend to be me... and when I or anyone else intervenes, he becomes aggressive.
It's pathetic... and it'll probably go on for another year.
I recently created a new avatar for myself. I put a lot of work into making it something truly unique...but I don't know if I want to put it out there, since the moment I do, he'll inevitably copy it. I also updated the visuals for my Episode Updates pics... and as soon as I reveal it, it's only a matter of time before he copies it, too. And of course, if I or anyone else confronts him, he'll whine and get mad... and continue doing what he's always done anyway.
Truth be told, there are so many other examples of his terrible behavior I could post here... such as when he began hounding me on Youtube and screaming at me whenever he seen a comment I left on other PAW Patrol-themed accounts (to the point the owner of the channel had to intervene and tell him to stop... to which he replied "stop what?"). I have so many more stories to tell, but this post is turning out long enough, and I think I've stressed the point quite well.
It sucks that people like him have to exist, and it's so sad that he refuses to let go of a three year grudge, now going onto four. All I know is that it's getting to the point where I'm tired of it. I'm tired of seeing him use my Daily template, tired of him acting like an absolute crybaby when I defend myself, tired of... well, the whole thing. At this point, maybe I need to start fighting back more, because ignoring him sure isn't getting the job done.
If he's going to insist on using my template, then maybe I shouldn't take it so lightly anymore... 🤔
---
Oh, one last thing. You want to see something funny? He has no problem taking stuff from me, but when someone does that to him... that's just wrong! Maybe someone needs to give him a dose of his own medicine more often... perhaps then he'd show more respect to others.
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reflective-leaf · 6 months
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The Climate Movement Needs Your Creativity, Not Your Guilt
(This is an annotated transcript of the TEDx talk I gave in April 2023. It’s 10 minutes long. I’d suggest watching it first and then coming here for supporting materials.)
youtube
Does climate action feel impossible?
When I was a kid, I was interested in everything. I’d need about 10 careers to do it all. So I got out my green and blue markers and made a calendar to keep track of which job I’d have on which day of the week. On Monday, I’d be a scientist, on Tuesday, a painter. Friday — some kind of explorer, because I loved nature documentaries. I related to how animals seemed fascinated by whatever was right in front of them.
Every documentary ended with a reminder that these animals needed our help, and all the ways they were threatened by human activity. I couldn’t believe no one had managed to do something about this. But I figured I would know how when I grew up.
So, though I kept changing my mind about what I would be, the one constant was that it would have something to do with climate and conservation.
Years later, I was working as an engineer and plugging away at my art and writing. I didn’t tell anyone about my master plan to connect it all to climate, but I hadn’t forgotten it. I kept looking for ways to make my engineering work overlap with climate science or renewables.
Still, I avoided climate news. I didn’t need to hear over and over that climate change REALLY WAS real to motivate me to take action. I didn’t need to see a picture of an animal choking on plastic; I already had the master plan. Meanwhile, I kept circling climate action from a distance without taking the plunge.
But that changed in 2020. The United Nations issued a report giving us a deadline of 2030 to make steep emissions cuts.
Taking action couldn’t stay theoretical and future tense any longer. So I dove into the research to catch up on what I had missed. And I started — tentatively — talking to people about climate change and my intentions.
And I got wave after wave of bad news. It wasn’t just the tight deadlines, scale of changes needed, and years of deadlock.
It was also the confusing responses I was getting in my conversations about climate change. I’d bring up something I found fascinating, people’s faces would drop. The’d say “Yeah… I should be doing more.” And the conversation stopped there.
We’d all finally grown up! and I was ready to jump into the master plan, but I hadn’t factored in when I was 10 that no one would want to jump with me.
And it was 2020, and the air in California was full of wildfire smoke — a constant reminder of what was at stake.
Defeatism had hijacked the climate conversation and it was everywhere.
Eventually, the gloom shifted just enough for me to start wondering. Maybe we were all so bummed because we couldn’t see through the haze. We’ve all been peppered with directives — reduce, reuse, recycle. Drive less. Fly less. Turn off lights. Don’t buy plastic.
And we try, pushing against a system that wasn’t set up for any of that. But we don’t have a clear picture of how this helps.
We may have a vague idea of our individual reductions adding up to collective reductions — but then, every single one of us would have to cut our individual emissions by over half, and then to zero. We can’t imagine the effort it would take to scale up our reductions by that much. And convincing every single human to do the same? Impossible.
This picture doesn’t add up because it requires us all to be perfect. And worse, it makes us feel like we are failing, every single day.
But let me paint you a different picture. If change could only happen with 100% participation and perfection, change would never happen. But I think we can all agree that sometimes change does happen, even positive change. So — how?
For one thing, you can move society in a positive direction without being perfect. Think of it like electric current. We are the electrons.
When we imagine current flowing through a wire, we might imagine an orderly stream of electrons all moving in the same direction.
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But actually, even before the current starts, the electrons are moving — randomly, at high speeds, in all directions.
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And when we apply a voltage to create current, it still looks like they’re moving at random, except there’s a change you can only see when you look at the wire as a whole.
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Each electron shifts its velocity a tiny bit, all in the same direction. You don’t need perfect electrons to create current.
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Society is a bit more complicated than electric current. Still, it doesn’t matter that we aren’t each moving in a perfectly sustainable direction as long as our changes line up. And more importantly, pick up speed.
So what’s the voltage that directs us? I called it “the system,” and what I mean is the way all the organizations that touch our lives are set up — what they prioritize and where they get their materials.
We are constantly pushing against the system while trying to influence “our” consumption. What if we tried influencing the system instead?
So how do systems change? I found the answer in one of my math textbooks. Transformation builds under the surface as ideas brew, minds change, and small clusters of supporters gather — all while progress appears to be slow or non-existent, until suddenly, the support reaches a critical mass, and the system transforms rapidly in an emergent process.
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Nearly every social movement that succeeded followed this pattern of slow, then all at once. To get to that point, a certain percentage of people need to participate (estimated variously as 3.5%, to 25%), but importantly, it’s not 100%.
So don’t think of the climate movement as something you’re guilted into. You can choose to be one of the 25% who become early adopters of change.
And you don’t have to worry about the people you can’t convince. They will change when the system changes because that comes first.
Changing the system requires creativity. The first act of creativity is to imagine the possible paths to transformation.
The second act of creativity is to imagine where you can fit into that picture. Old ideas need to be replaced by new ones — about everything from technology to our day-to-day lives. The new ideas spread through you.
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To make that happen, ask yourself these three questions.
One. What is a movement you want to throw your weight behind? Pick a trend or organization that’s already building, and that you can help accelerate. You can be another piece of its critical mass.
Two. What’s a practical obstacle that’s been keeping you from participating? Anything from not knowing what a word means, to having trouble deciding where to volunteer.
If you have this obstacle, others do too. So brainstorming a solution will help more than just you. That obstacle doesn’t stand a chance against your formidable skills at creative problem solving!
Question Three. What social circles that you’re already a part of, can you share your solutions and experiences with? Sharing in the circles where you can be heard is how your solutions amplify and ripple outward.
We’re facing unprecedented challenges, so our imaginations need to be nimble — zipping like a hummingbird — from the big picture, to our immediate surroundings. From where we’re starting from — to where we want to get to.
We can’t be nimble like this if we’re stuck in guilt and perfectionism, and gazing endlessly within our own homes and wallets at all the things we’re doing wrong.
No movement in history has been made up of perfect people, so stop worrying about the ways you’re not perfect. Perfect people are not required.
Instead, think of all the ways your creativity could accelerate us in the right direction.
If you haven’t already, check out the recording of my TEDx talk! And you can hit ‘like’ on the video if you want to help get the YouTube algorithm to distribute it.
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beardedmrbean · 10 months
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Lawmakers in California are hoping to push through controversial legislation that would ban retail staff from stopping thieves stealing from their stores.
Senate Bill 553, which was submitted by Senator Dave Cortese, has been passed by the State Senate and will now progress to policy committees in the State Assembly. Cortese hopes the proposed law will prevent workplace violence and protect staff from being forced by their employers to step-in during robberies. But some store bosses are furious about the plans, with the California Retailers Association mocking the move as an open invitation for thieves "to come in and steal."
The political wrangling in California comes just weeks after Home Depot security guard Blake Mohs, 26, was shot to death during an attempted robbery in Pleasanton, California. Other cities in the state are also facing their own problems as they attempt to deal with lawlessness.
San Francisco has been gripped by a crimewave that has seen Whole Foods close its downtown location after just a year of business, with bosses saying they were unable to "ensure the safety" of their staff in the city. Nordstrom followed suit by leaving the city this month, but many smaller businesses have had no choice but to remain, despite attacks on their premises.
The proposed new laws come as stores have blamed shoplifting for hitting their businesses, with Target issuing a statement in November blaming "organized retail crime" for an eye-watering $400 million loss in its profits in 2022.
Cortese, a Democrat representing Santa Clara County, told Fox 2/KTVU: "More recently, we've seen another spike in retail violence; [At] Safeways, Home Depots, it just seems to be happening every other day... What we're saying in the bill is it's not ok for employers to take a rank-and-file worker, somebody whose job is really something else... and say, 'Hey, you know, if there's an intruder we're going to deputize you to intervene.' People get hurt and often killed that way."
A statement issued by Cortese's office noted that assaults in stores rose during the pandemic, citing 2022 analysis by the New York Times, which found that assaults in grocery stores increased by 63 percent from 2018 to 2020, and assaults in convenience stores grew by 75 percent. The statement added that workplace violence is the second leading cause of fatal occupational injury.
The Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) estimates that workplace violence affects nearly 2 million workers each year, with female staff suffering from higher rates of nonfatal injuries than their male counterparts.
A retail security survey published in 2022 by the National Retail Federal (NRF) also suggested the issue may be getting worse. The annual survey of the retail industry's loss prevention professionals found that "retail shrink is an almost $100 billion problem."
According to the survey, retailers blamed "external theft" for the greatest portion of "shrink" at 37 percent, while 28.5 percent was deemed to be the result of "employee/internal theft." The difference was made up by various factors, including processing and control failures. The survey found that 37.9 percent of respondents replied that no associates were allowed to apprehend shoplifters in their organizations.
The California bill, if enacted in law, would require employers to provide active-shooter training to workers, keep a log of any violent incidents, and allow companies to apply for workplace violence restraining orders.
But Rachel Michelin, president of the California Retailers Association, told Fox 2/KTVU: "This bill goes way too far, number one, where I think it will open the doors even wider for people to come in and steal from our stores."
And she added that most stores already prevent ordinary workers from confronting shoplifters, saying that most hire employees specifically trained in theft prevention for that purpose. "It [the bill] says no employee can approach someone who's shoplifting, so even if someone is trained on how to deter someone from doing that, now they're not allowed to approach someone. So what does that mean? We are opening up the doors to allow people to just walk into stores, steal, and walk out."
Newsweek is attempting to seek clarification on how the law applies to staff such as trained security guards.
Newsweek has also reached out to Senator Cortese and the California Retailers Association for further information and comment. Several large retailers, including Target and Walmart, have also been approached for comment about the proposed law.
The bill is currently subject to adjustments as it progresses through the State Assembly's policy committees.
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Note
What got you into rainworld?
OHHOHHHOHOHOHOHO
It's been 2020, middle of autumn, i tired from playing same 3 games on repeat (hollow knight, sundered and undertale (? i'm not sure)) and looked in my steam library, in search for something i haven't played. I had i think 3 games i bought and never played, and Rain World was one of them. I had no fucking clue what is this game, i didn't even remember how i got it (i got it same year spring with 80% off, as my purchase history says). So i downloaded it and jumped right into, without watching any trailers or rewievs.
It was... something. I didn't expect anything, but i was surprised anyway. I had no idea you could pick different character, i didn't know you supposed to play as white slugcat, so i started as Monk.
First thing that surprised me is how HEAVY slugcat felt. Compare to Hollow Kinght where you can jump 10 times your height... yeahh. And second thing - controls, which i changed immediately, because i ain't playing on arrows! ALSO at the beginning i had a thought for a moment that maybe i'll get some upgrades, but even then i felt like it's not gonna happen
And after that i lost track of time. And when i woke up, it was 5 am and i was in shoreline. Then i was stuck in the first room of subterranean with centipedes killing me all the fucking time and i thought that i can't go back through the gates lol
I also remember miros birds breaking my overseer in meme crypts and how i thought that it was gone forever
This is my very first rain world screenshot (i didn't understand what to do with this flower and overseer seemed to point on it (at least it what i thought)
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under cut there's a tonn of screenshots and some of messeges with my friend while i was playing. I had a friend, who helped me in the beginning. They played just a bit, but knew a lot about the game
october 10, 2020
Elsa Fogen 22:57 : Oh you can store food for the next day to spend all the time for exploration, neat Elsa Fogen 23:02 : So i was grabbed by that thing, that pretended to be a pole, but i managed to escape and it grabbed a lizard instead october 11, 2020 Elsa Fogen 6:57 : Fuuck, it's 5 am and i've been playing Rain all this time [Friend name here] 6:29 : How did you... Elsa Fogen 6:29 : I'm in the location with green wamter Elsa Fogen 6:31 : I was fucking flooded 3 times Elsa Fogen 16:13 : I'm fucking tired of these monkies They don't let me go through Fuckers
october 12, 2020
Elsa Fogen 18:11 : AAAAAAAAAAAHH FUCKING ELECTRICAL CENTIPEDES, I HATE YOU SO MUCH Elsa Fogen 18:14 : just fucking look how many times i died in the same room because of these fucking creatures
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[Friend name here] 18:15 : Oh. Which location this is? Elsa Fogen 18:24 : trins where [Friend name here] 18:25 : no fucking way... Wait. WHY ARE YOU GOING THERE IT'S TOO EARLY Or wait. You have already been at Five Pebbles?!?! Elsa Fogen 18:27 : where???? I can't go back anyway......... [Friend name here] 18:27 : fuck... it's too early to go there/ Too early. Why can't you return? Elsa Fogen 18:33 : door was closed................... okay i get it all over again [Friend name here] 18:34 : nononno NO NO NO!!!! WAIT FUCK STOP WAIT WAAAAAAAIT DON'T RESTART LOTUS MOTHERFUCKER (lotus was kinda my roleplay nickname lol) DON'T YOU DARE Elsa Fogen 18:37 : wha how then [Friend name here] 18:34 : You talking about gates with karma? Elsa Fogen 18:38 : yes [Friend name here] 18:38 : Fuf... there... look. So you went through. You sleep one time. And you can go once again. Elsa Fogen 18:38 : 🤔
-----
Elsa Fogen 18:53 : Should i look for this thing?
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Elsa Fogen 19:54 : What should i do here?
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[Friend name here] 20:03 : GO TO SLEEP THEN YOU GO THROUGH HORRIBLE LOCATION TO THE WORSE Don't touch the flies Elsa Fogen 20:23 : And what if i touched them Elsa Fogen 21:43 : Damn it's so dark here
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Elsa Fogen 21:54 : Damn there creepy creatures mechanical Elsa Fogen 22:40 : FUCK I SAW AN ART WHERE BROKEN VESSEL HAD THIS FUCKING BLACK-BLUE THING IN THE HEAD
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[Friend name here] 23:01 : btw, you're ahead of me xD I just... i need to recover my nerves Elsa Fogen 23:05 : btw this thing that leads you can it be killed? [Friend name here] 23:05 : Yes. Elsa Fogen 23:05 : Fuck) I think mine was killed Elsa Fogen 23:10 : So what should i do if my thing was killed...... Elsa Fogen 23:15 : Are these things dangerous?
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Elsa Fogen 23:24 : What a creepy fuckig thing
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but it's neat i love their design so much i saw same things in the location with pile of monkies these fucking things annlyed me so much there was a lake and two of these fuckers lived there Elsa Fogen 23:56 : Fuck, can i kill this thing? It's sitting there and that's it............
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[Friend name here] 23:56 : You can but.... MANY SPEARS. VERY MUCH. Elsa Fogen 23:59 : OMG OVERSEER, MY SUNSHINE
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october 13, 2020
Elsa Fogen 00:00 : OH YES I MADE IT TO THE NEST [shelter] And i understood why the fuck these things for [grapple worms] Elsa Fogen 00:23 : THERE'S 3 OF THEM
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Elsa Fogen 00:28 : That's what i call TOTAL FUCK UP
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Elsa Fogen 00:31 : i lived Elsa Fogen 00:31 : is that a fucking infection
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Elsa Fogen 01:03 : i n f e c t i o n
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Elsa Fogen 01:23 : fUCK
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Elsa Fogen 01:28 : ....how many spears i need to kill this you say?
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[Friend name here] 01:28 : More than 10. :) Elsa Fogen 01:29 : too loose a concept "more than 10" more than 10 can be and 11 and 100 well, two already there ahaha....... [Friend name here] 01:28 : Well.... Hm...... Not 11... Well maybe 20 or more. Elsa Fogen 01:30 : now this sounds as threat of avengers level [Friend name here] 01:30 : One moment. I'll look up their hp. Ha.... Ha.... 200 hp.... Elsa Fogen 01:34 : ................... and how much damage spear does?? [Friend name here] 01:36 : ... [RW wiki screenshot saying how much damage deals every slugcat per spear throw] Elsa Fogen 01:34 : *HYSTERICAL LAUGH* okay i died already around ten times BY JUST FALLING IN THE FUCKING PIT
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Elsa Fogen 01:34 : infected snot
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Elsa Fogen 01:34 : f UCK i found the door, but it needs the highest karma AND I'M WITH THE LOWEST BECAUSE OF ALL THOSE DEATHS FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK Elsa Fogen 02:19 : FINALLY FINALLY YES I WENT FURTHER OH MY FUCKING GOD I'M SO TIRED OF THIS PIT Elsa Fogen 02:21 : WAIT WHAT WHERE DID I FLY
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IS IT BECAUSE I ATE TOO MUCH INFECTION? [Friend name here] 02:22 : Well it's... It's... If short, there's troubles with gravitation and... THERE'S MANY DADDY LONG LEGS ON THE WAY But first you have to bring around 4 flies to Moon)))) YES YES YOU'LL HAVE TO GO BACK BRING 2 FOR NOW There will be more further Elsa Fogen 02:25 : ah. these?
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Elsa Fogen 21:11 : fuck this shit....
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[Friend name here] 21:12 : ))))))) YOU'LL HAVE TO))))) Elsa Fogen 21:12 : no i'm leaving ahupzhvalvva [Friend name here] 21:12 : YEEEEES)))) YOU NEED THIS TO COMPLETE THE GAME By the way Moon quest is not necessary Elsa Fogen 21:14 : thank god
october 16, 2020
Elsa Fogen 20:59 : these fucking tentacles discourage all desire to play rain 🙁
Finding and translating all this takes fucking forever and after this point i moved to another chat and i don't know which one so let me know if you want to see more of this!!!!!!
LIKE REBLOG AND SUBSCRIBE FOR PART 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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yamcha-thelonewolf · 5 months
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💥THE GANG IS BACK!
At least... Apparently DBS gave him his chance.
DRAGON BALL SUPER
Chapter 56: Warriors of Earth Assemble
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Even the title is stunning. I mean... the gang is back! The original Dragon Ball isn't dead. But now look at him... In truth, he never stopped getting excited about fighting. Here he's the only one who seems purely motivated. A little reckless, but still cute. That's our good ol' Yamcha.
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...how dare you, fool?! I mean, he's one of the very first Earth Heroes! No kidding!
Let him prove it.
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Agent Yamcha? Well... It sounds really good. Finally someone who respects his role in this story! I mean... He was Lord Yamcha, the fearsome bandit of the Diablo Desert, one of the best students of Master Roshi, then King Kai, a memorable fighter of the Tenkaichi Tournaments, a loyal friend, a human who has crossed his own nature! I guess "agent Yamcha" is just the minimum... But we make do!
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Well well well... Welcome back, Yamcha! You really seem to have remembered who you really are and you can be! You're let it get you down too many times for no reason and this has been your greatest weakness. The only one.
Take your revenge!
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This is really touching. He never denied his most famous technique... The one and only Rōgafūfūken! Just look at his fingers put like a wolf fang. I can hear his unmistakable howl!
After all, generally he never denied himself. And his long hair too. I'm so glad they've come back. This is a really important point about his personality. Bulma tried to fix him in many things... Sometimes she has helped him, but other times she has only damaged him. I think Yamcha is slowly retracing his steps to create a better version of himself. Not just a parody.
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Oh please... It had been a long time since I had seen him so proud of himself. Look at that cocky pose! Damn, how cute...
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Got a real taste. He just realized he can still help and now no one can stop him. Well, sort of. The rest of the chapter doesn't show anything relevant about him. Except for a small part.
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We can see Yamcha, but also Tenshinhan, Kurillin and even Chiaotzu, helping Goku with their energy. Like the old days. It's amazing they included them.
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Okay, this one hurts a little. It's comforting that Toriyama didn't forget this detail... Yamcha's only wish has always been to get married. Since 1985, when he first appeared. Considering that this line dates back to 2020... It's been a long time, hasn't it? Back then he was a shy 16-year-old boy with many expextations for his future... Now he's a man, he lost so much, but his need for love never changed. So... Does he really have to ask Shenron as he wanted to do so many years ago?! Or worse, wait 1200 years...
Come on, Akira! He doesn't need the dragon balls!
Give him his real chance.
Guys... I would say that all of this is an incredible goal for Yamcha's fans.
He still exists.
He can still make a difference, even a tiny one.
He still can!
GOOD JOB, Yamcha-san! ✌️
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plasticflwrs · 2 months
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⠀⠀   ⠀┈─ NOTHING NEW ⠀⠀/ ⠀⠀ an oliver song story ( 2022 ).
RACH. I wrote it when I was 19, and I've written a lot of other things since, and it's just... what if... what if that was the one... what if that was the one, best thing I'll ever do and I spend the rest of my life just getting worse and worse and drying up, uninspired, and I never become great. — The Prelude by Dave Malloy.
WORD COUNT. 3.2k words. WARNINGS / NOTES. Discussions of mental health symptoms related to general anxiety and major depressive episodes. (Passive) suicidal ideation. Alcohol mention. Originally published in 2023, but now featuring small changes of names and timeline ( rip minghui 😔 ).
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“GOOD TO SEE YOU, OLIVER,” Yeonghui smiles as she lets Oliver into her office. “You never answered my text messages. I was worried about you.”
Oliver knows what Yeonghui is doing. 
She’s been worried about Oliver more recently as the bags under his eyes become more prominent and the schedule is more focused on going out with friends than actually writing their next album. This impromptu therapy session was not going to solve any of their current problems and he had other events to attend. Drinks with Rowan, Jiyeon, and old friends. A phone call with his mother. A real therapy appointment. 
Oliver is a busy person and finding a break in their hectic schedule was almost impossible. If the opportunity presented itself, he was going to take it. In reality, he never fully disconnected from his idol life. Always created new voice memos for new music, hid behind a mask so he wasn’t recognized, and appeared on the social media of his closest friends to get the band’s name out there. He liked to create a separation between his personal and professional life but the lines had blurred at the end of 2020.
He doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal.
He had written some of their discography before this album and the rest had been solely written by Salem before that. Yes, they had been missing for sixteen months, but, he was not the only member able to write music. Since he had returned from the states a few months ago, these meetings to discuss "music" (read: his personal life) had become more often. She was more open about her demands for a new album and Oliver was growing tired of it. He knew Salem had enough drafts to cover them for a few years at minimum, Jiyeon had showed him a few things, and even Junyeong of all people brought up a new drum line during their last practice.
Why was Yeonghui not calling them every day? He never understood her actions.
Oliver gives her a smile, the same that fans gushed about on Twitter and he had perfected over the years before speaking, “I’m fine. You know I’m allergic to my cellphone. I never answer anyone.”
“I’ve known you for almost seven years so I’m allowed to worry,” Yeonghui replies, keeping her voice even and her smile is tight-lipped, a sign of annoyance. She’s known amongst the artists for her quick temper. “Everybody is worried about you.”
“Everybody?” he questions. Oliver knows for certain that some people could care less about his health right now.
“Yes, everybody that’s important, which is your managers and myself. You know we have a comeback scheduled for the end of his quarter and I needed to know how that was going. There’s a lot riding on this, as you know.” 
Oliver leans back in the armchair and crosses his arms, defensively. “Have you asked Salem or JIyeon yet? They seemed… excited to run a project.”
She shakes her head and says, “we don’t want that. Plastic Flowers has been out of the public eye for ten months, so we need to retain any relevance from Teeth last year and that will only come from you."
“What if I don’t want to?” Oliver challenges and both of them are surprised by his attempts at talking back. 
“We can’t force you, of course,” Yeonghui says, leaning closer to Oliver. “But, I can cancel this album and make sure it looks like your fault. Junyeong and Salem are already upset, Jiyeon just sent us a lovely demo to compliment what you’ve already written, and Deurim's growing restless without any work. It would be very easy to recreate that outrage. Your choice, Oliver.”
He’s quiet for a few moments, remaining in that defensive position as she meets his stare directly. Oliver has always had an interesting relationship with his CEO and has never gone directly against her in their seven years of working together. He is a people pleaser at heart and at this moment, he wants to continue the fight against her but also knows that Yeonghui isn’t one to bluff. Sure, she’s prone to exaggerations to get her way nonetheless, she would find a way to twist these events in her favor and they both know that.
“Fine. I’ll send you some files later tonight.”
“Great. Why don’t we find some inspiration right now though? We have big plans for the promotion of this album,” she smiles, satisfied with winning the conversation, and opens her notebook to keep track. “So, how have your days been?”
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First, he wakes up at eleven-forty-five. 
He pulls himself out of his bed and reluctantly puts on a new pair of clothes, brushing his hair of any knots before entering the living room. Salem gives him an annoyed look as she clears off the table from that morning’s breakfast. Junyeong is in the shower after his daily workout. Deurim doesn’t pay him any attention, she’s too focused on trying to learn all their old music from Minghui's poorly taken notes. Jiyeon is drinking her coffee and reading some book, pretending she doesn’t see him, but Oliver can see her eyes flicker around the room. She looks from the corner of her eyes to watch his every move like he was going to do something stupid if she didn’t.  
Oliver can’t find it in himself to care.
He wishes Jiyeon a good morning, the smile and light excitement in his voice not reaching any other part of his face. He’s never been that good of an actor. Jiyeon smiles back, small, and thanks him before returning to her book, leaving them in silence as the microwave hums. He wishes he could be better for her and provide their relationship with something indispensable. Instead, their days were spent inside his shared bedroom with Minghui and recounting the one-sided disagreements between the oldest members and Oliver in their debriefs. It was all they discussed recently and he wanted to bury those feelings of resentment. There was nothing Oliver could do to change their minds and he was not going to make the first move to repair their relationship. Salem had said enough during their last practice session. 
( She had gone on and on and on about how boring his latest composition was. It played too much into the tropes of the last two albums and whatever he released on Soundcloud. The fans were going to get bored and he could not handle their criticism as she could. The last single she had written performed at the same level as they did in 2019, right after his Superband appearance. It was Oliver that had given them popularity in the first place and she hated that. 
“Have you written anything yet?” he asks, not hiding his annoyance. That shuts her up and they return to working in silence, the only sounds coming from his pen scratching against paper and her acoustic guitar. He sighs and almost apologizes. Almost. )
Jiyeon is good friends to have, despite the lulls in their conversations these days. He knows it's his fault for that too. She provided feedback on his latest demos, offered to plan a celebration for his return to South Korea, and gave him enough time to melt into his bed after long meetings. She never rushed Oliver into hanging out and understood that he needed some time to himself. He needs to step up and be there for her. Invite her out or something, stop locking himself in his room. She deserved better friends than Oliver.
“Are you nervous about tonight?” Jiyeon asks, testing the waters of that day.
“Not really, um—” Oliver begins to answer as his phone rings in his pocket. Another missed call from his mother. The third of that day. He gives Jiyeon an apologetic look before slipping back into his bedroom to answer. “I’ll be right back.” She just nods and goes back to her book. 
“Hi mom,” he tries to sound happier and it almost works.  “How are you? Isn’t it like close to midnight back home?” 
His mother, despite the time difference, is ecstatic to hear from him. “Oh, Oliver,” she gushes. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep and wanted to see if you would pick up.”
Kathleen Suh is a wonderful mother and person, easily one of Oliver’s favorites. Until his step-father taught Oliver how to play the piano, he wanted to emulate her. He wanted to attend Harvard University, he wanted to study history, he wanted to have a family of his own, and he wanted to be happy. His mother accepted the idea of his debut easily, wishing him nothing but the best for those years of training. She would send him money for food, new sneakers, and anything that the company needed. Oliver was forced to just take it since she would not take no for an answer. Now, he does the same and plus some extra gifts for his family. Two weeks ago, his checking account showed a small dip as he provided Harry, his younger brother, with a new Macbook for his final years of high school.
She’s happy to hear from Oliver, unsurprisingly. It's been two full months since they’ve last spoken and Oliver covers it with an excuse about being busy with writing for their new album. She accepts it and they move on to a conversation about his siblings with Ivy’s recent engagement still being the talk of the town and Harry’s already joined the poetry club, making friends already. He’s glad to hear that they are happy and healthy. Maybe he should call them this weekend… Did they even want to hear from him, though? Oliver wasn’t sure. It had been months since he initiated contact and would not blame his siblings for ignoring his future attempts to reach out.
The call continues like this for almost an hour. They go through the important details that Oliver would have missed from the stateside and Oliver give her any information about Plastic Flowers. Its a nice change of pace compared to the rest of the week, which was spent dreadfully alone. Oliver is an introvert at heart, but having these catch up calls with his mother wasn’t the same as meeting friends. They could never drain him.
However, the tone changes for the worst.
“You know I’m proud of you, right?” she asks and any good feeling leaves his body at that moment.
 Oliver hates when she does this to him and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He gets it, really. Not hearing from their children would get anyone in a sentimental mood but Oliver hated discussing his current feelings with anyone and did not want to worry his mother. After a few moments, he answers, “I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve just been busy preparing for this album,” A pause in the conversation. Neither of them speaks so Oliver ends the conversation there. “It’s late in Boston so I’m going to hang up now. I love you.” 
Before he ends their call, his mother bids him goodbye and tells him that she loves him too. A hand goes through his dark brown hair, recently fixed from the bleaching sessions of the year prior, and he sighs loudly, flopping onto his mattress. Oliver, for the thousandth time within two hours of being awake, wishes that he was a better person and most importantly, a better son. If he didn’t feel like this, his mother would not have to worry about him and life would be easier for everyone. 
Without him…
 Nevermind. 
Jiyeon don’t want him thinking like that anymore. ‘It’s not good for the band,’ Jiyeon had said a few months ago, sitting on the balcony with three bottles of white wine between them. They always ended up back there, like in the old days, where they felt on top of the world and like nothing could truly hurt them. The days before he realized the band’s relationship breaking down in front of him and along with the divide between his personal and public life. It has always been the three of them against the world with Salem and Junyeong drifting in and out, depending on their feelings toward the youngest members at the time.
He still remembers the celebrations that came with their first single to enter the top ten in the music charts. At the moment, it felt like things were changing for the better. Less glaring and more attempts at working together, the creation of 403 a few months later, and securing their first win.
It was going well… until it wasn’t.
And the world would turn without Oliver Song for a comeback. He was sure of it. It might not reach the same success as Salem indulged in a more niche audience and the general public was not her biggest fan these days, but that was okay with him. It was the company's problem and they would have to work hard to rectify that. If Yeonghui could turn the world against him, she could definitely change the public opinion of Salem in a matter of a few weeks. At the same time, the band might not survive without the input of Oliver as the public’s favorite member and the lead vocalist of Plastic Flowers. While Oliver could take himself from the equation, with the fanbase also divided between favorite members, showing a weakened lineup could spell disaster. Rumors would circulate and the world would stop turning and Oliver would be lost forever, with—
“Oliver? Are you okay? You’ve been in here for, like, three hours,” Deurim's voice interrupts his spiraling and she’s standing just outside of the doorframe with an odd look on her face. 
Glancing down at his phone, Oliver could have sworn it was only two in the afternoon last time he had checked and now it was nearing four, closer to the end of the day than the beginning and yet another day lost to his downward spiral. This had been happening a lot more lately, with days blending into nights and the inability to be in the moment. He was always stuck between the past and the future, there was no time to worry about the present and he could not stop moving even for a moment. There was always something to do, even if that was nothing in reality.
“God fucking—” Oliver swears as he sits up, all the blood rushing to his head, and goes to his closet. “I should have set an alarm. I’m going to be so late.”
Deurim watches as he stumbles around the room, pulling a sweater and a new pair of socks from his bedside table. “Late for what?” she asks.
“I have a meeting with Yeonghui in a few minutes. She’s having one of her moments about a new record, I just need to appease her for now. I’ll still make dinner later.”
“Are you sure you’re well enough to go? You look like shit, Oliver,” Deurim remarks. 
“What are you talking about?” It's at that exact moment that Oliver gets a closer look at himself in the mirror and pauses for a moment. “Oh. Well, that’s nothing a bit of makeup can’t fix. I’ll just put it on in the car, no big deal,” Oliver’s voice is quicker than normal as the nerves start to get too much and he offers his roommate what should be a smile. Things are suddenly moving miles per minute. “Reservation is for seven, right? I can meet you guys at the restaurant if she runs over time, I’ll keep you and Jiyeon updated, yeah?”
Oliver is not doing well and someone else had noticed. So much for not making anyone worry anymore.
Anyone could see that from miles away. He hasn’t only lost weight over the last few months, but the dark circles have grown, and much more affect his naturally bright appearance. Before this moment, he never had the chance to truly look at himself in the mirror but it seems that the reaction of not only Deurim but the small gasps from the makeup artists was warranted. Oliver isn’t sure when it all got this bad, but, he can fix it, no problem. Starting that night he would change his life for the better. More meals, a peaceful rest, and spending time with Jiyeon was first on the list. That would help him feel better. (Hopefully). 
Deurim nods, still looking uncomfortable. They both know stopping Oliver from going to this meeting would be near impossible, he hated missing tasks. “Sounds like a plan. Good luck with the meeting.”
In a few minutes, he is not only ready for the meeting but his plans for after. Their manager knocks on the door and Oliver and escorted to the Superbloom Media headquarters, just ten minutes down the road. The ride is quiet save for the soft lull of whatever song was currently going viral in South Korea and his manager taps the steering wheel to the beat to save them from complete silence. Oliver is thankful that he doesn’t ask many questions and just goes along with whatever the members were feeling to keep his job. At some points, Oliver thinks that the manager is looking at him before remembering that checking your mirrors is always an important safety measure, especially as he turns street corners.
They park in the artists-only lot, the third floor of the private parking garage and he is left to his own devices. The manager has to pick up something else for the members, something that Salem requested from the shop down the street and he wishes Oliver good luck. They both know that he would need it. 
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That was Oliver’s day.
That had been Oliver’s day for the last three months and it seems like nothing will change. 
The only changes come from whatever plans are happening at the same time, guided through the motions by either his bandmates or manager. Nothing ever seemed to change and after a while, it all blended together. Yeonghui isn’t satisfied with his answer and she stopped writing a few minutes into his attempts at recounting his day.
“And, how long have you been like this?”
“Three months.”
She is silent for a moment. “That’s a long time.”
“I know.”
“What happened three months ago?” she asks, trying to get more information out of him. 
Oliver shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
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car-lozsigns · 11 months
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A few minutes more (Pt16)
Synopsis: You and Carlos had crossed paths more than you thought was possible over a short weekend but time was not on your side. A love story that’s about the slow burn and companionship built connection, and how sometimes right place wrong time is the best of the available options
Author Note: Same as the previous part, there is the mention of covid in the early stages, story part in March 2020.
Length:~4.6k
Warnings: covid mention
Previous parts: Link to Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15
Part 16
Carlos’ racing schedule and commitments picked up as Melbourne approached, him being distracted in calls but still putting the effort to be present. The remarks of ‘so many days to go’ and ‘can’t wait to see you’ picked up in frequency the closer you got to March. But with it also increased the anxiety. You were lucky you never really had to worry about it but the world affairs were bleeding into your mental resolve for the first time you could remember. You tried the push the news from your mind not allowing yourself to read the breaking story and choosing instead to remain ignorant to protect your own mental health. Was this a long term solution, no, but you just wanted to make it to March and you’ll worry about the virus that keeps coming up in conversation afterwards.
Carlos and you had planned on a call the week prior that you would fly into his hometown on the Thursday after work, then spend two days with you before a family Saturday night dinner introducing you to his parents where you and him were to stay the night and Sunday night, you and Carlos flying out Monday morning, you back to the UK and him to Melbourne.
The Wednesday before your weekend in Spain the mood was exceptionally uneasy across the office, many people opting to stay away from work with the news of this new respiratory illness making its way across Europe. Your work was encouraging people to only work in the office if required, with many already working a hybrid model to account for the cross timezone projects your team often were engaged with.
Your boss was hesitant to approve your leave to Spain with the news of everything picking up, it seeming worse than a regular flu that emerged every winter. You appeased them however, letting them know that you were bringing your laptop with you in case the worse was to happen and you had to stay a few extra days, you could always work from your hotel. You checked in with your team Wednesday morning but in seeing everyone was working from home you decided to pull a sick day to get your flight changed a day early to surprise Carlos. 
You had expected changing your flight would have been difficult last minute but there were plenty of spare seats, people in the UK weary of the news coming out of Spain and Italy, with many apparently cancelling their trips. Arriving at the airport for your flight on Wednesday night you noticed how much everything had changed in a few short months; everyone was wearing face masks, some even with gloves. The nerves were heightened from the regular type you see at the terminal, people trying to keep their distance from each other. Maybe ignoring the news hadn’t been the best idea you told yourself as you stepped in to purchase a face mask and bottle of hand sanitiser before waiting at your gate. 
Carlos had finalised your plans and schedule, you had messaged him saying you had the ok to travel, him sending through the itinerary he had meticulously prepared. you. You checked it one more time before boarding to see if he had made any last minute changes to the google doc and seeing it all the same, switched your phone to flight mode and tried to calm yourself for the flight. 
You had timed your flight with him so that you wouldn’t miss your regular call with him. So when Carlos answered he wouldn’t expect or notice anything different until you showed him the surprise. 
When Carlos’ phone rang on Wednesday night he was playing his dad in a game of chess. Normally the family rules of no phones during play was strictly enforced but as your name lit up the screen showing you were calling exactly at 7pm like normal , Carlos senior resigned that his son would be lost to him for the next hour, allowing him to look up potential moves to win the session.
“Hi Carlos, how was your day?” You tried to sound calm but you noticed the excitement seeping out in your voice.
“Hello, my day was good” Carlos started him launching into his activities as he walked out of the living room to the veranda. Carlos continued talking for a while him not allowing you to get a word in. You had intended on telling him straight out but Carlos was on a role, you decided to move the phone away from your face standing in front of the baggage carousel holding the phone out just wide enough so that your screen showed the “arrivals” sign in the background. You checked the time and waited to see how long it would take Carlos to notice you weren’t at home like you were meant to be.
He talked for another 6 minutes before he noticed, he was pacing around the backyard not focusing on the phone but where he was walking.
You saw his face scrunch slightly as you saw him take in where you were standing.
He had organised you to fly in Thursday after work, a reminder set on his phone to pick you up as soon as you had landed but he saw you standing at an arrivals today.
“YN is today Thursday? Did I miss your flight I thought I had set alarms?”
You laughed at this
“Nope, it’s Wednesday and guess who changed their flight to Wednesday?” You smiled the cheesiest grin when you saw the pieces click into place on Carlos’ face.
“Are you telling me you’re in Madrid, you’ve been here this entire call?”
Carlos was shocked but surprised in a good way
“I was going to but then I didn’t wasn’t to interrupt”
“YN come on you could be in my arms already, what terminal are you at I’m getting you now”
You replied with where you were sending him a pin of your location to help.
Carlos didn’t bother getting changed he swiped keys from the front door and called out to his parents he will be back soon, before driving much too fast to the airport.
The airport was quieter than Carlos expected it to be. Normally he’d have to queue to get into the pick up bays but there were only a few taxis and shuttle buses. Carlos like you had an uneasy feeling about what was happening and traffic is usually the sign something was amiss. Both he and his family had been checking the news everyday, with all of their career’s dependent upon travel they all wanted to know as much as they could, then finding information helped quell stress instead of induce it like the news did for you.
News coming in was influx with contradicting messages. It was safe to travel one day, the next it wasn’t, the next it was ok to travel as long as you hadn’t been in Asia. What was constant though was that in checking the restrictions and government guidance both of your plans were still allowed for now. So Carlos, entering the airport arrivals and seeing you with your suitcase confirmed it was safe enough for you to be here and that was all he cared about.
He pulled into the 15 minute bay, car still running, handbrake on, threw the door open and scooped you up in his arms. His hug was tight and lifted your feet a good foot off of the floor spinning you around quickly. You went to bend you head down to kiss him but he whispered to you.
“Not here” Letting you go and picking up your suitcase and hoisting it into the boot of his car.
When you were back on the road it was then Carlos unstoppered his excitement.
“You’re here early! Why didn’t you tell me!”
“Surprise” was all you said laughing at Carlos. He had surprised you and now you had returned the favour, seeing him that happy was worth it and you were glad you had changed his meticulous plans
“I haven’t called the hotel to change the booking but I was hoping that I could just stay with you tonight?” you said trying to sound casual.
“Of course YN plus with all the news going about I know I’d feel more comfortable with you in our home instead of in town”
“About that, I haven’t really read too much into things, how bad are they? I didn’t want to psyche myself out of the trip so I haven’t really caught up on everything” Caught up on anything you should have said.
Carlos knew travelling made you nervous, so he started at the beginning, the trip wasn’t too long back to his house and he tried to catch you up on the important details before he arrived home. The news Carlos conveyed across was not good, you maybe should have listened to your boss and seen the warning signs in his hesitancy when you brought up your trip, too late now, you were here.
Carlos lived outside the city centre, tucked away in what you would have called the suburbs, roads lined with leafy trees that looked like they had been there for decades , houses tucked behind greenery and the road front. The neighbourhood was starkly different to the built up area where your apartment was, it was closer in resemblance to suburbs back home but you couldn’t think of any of your childhood friends houses that had this much space between them and their neighbours.
“Welcome home” Carlos said quietly as he turned into a narrow driveway that was hidden behind an unkempt hedge with a large automatic wrought iron gate. As the gate pulled to the side, Carlos drove slowly up a dimly lit driveway, leading downhill. His family home was midway along a hillside, a sprawling and surprisingly modern home, a little out of place with the ancient overgrown trees and gardens. You weren’t expecting something so new and something so large, you understood that Carlos was well off but for some reason that hasn’t registered that his family was well off too. Carlos had stopped the car outside a closed garage and made to remove your bags, you standing up hesitantly taken aback by his home.
Carlos sensing your apprehension, tried to loosen one shoulder with a squeeze of his hand “It looks bigger than it is” with a wink led towards the wide wooden front door.
Carlos was a liar. What greeted you was large open space with walls made out of smooth polished concrete, walls laid out in subtle parque. You could hear noise coming from further inside the depths and Carlos let go of your bags by the front door and made to lift your handbag from your shoulder to leave it out if the way.
He took your hand and led the way. You knew that in surprising him it would mean a sooner than planned meeting his parents but the risk and anxiety attached with that did not outweigh how much you missed Carlos. So you swallowed, and took a deep breathe ready to put on a brave face in front of two people Carlos cared about deeply.
Carlos senior had seen pictures of you before. Carlos junior, when he had the chance had shown his dad the pictures of your trip away and any updates you sent through, so he was not surprised but the person standing by his son’s side. Carlos’ mother however did not know what to expect of his son’s source of happiness. She had been trying for months to get a morsel of information out of her husband and son but neither had slipped up.
**********
Carlos senior looked up from the chessboard at the sound of the pair of footsteps stopping. But instead of looking at his son and partner, directed his attention to his wife. Reyes took in a shallow breathe at the woman standing by her son’s side. She was stunning, in a way that was wholly complimentary to Carlos. Where he was calm and reserved this woman was confident and self-assured , strong in her posture conveying her attempt at standing up to this power play instead of hiding behind Carlos like his other girlfriends had. This woman unlike her son, had her emotions open to everyone, Reyes could see the love pouring out of her in the very way she was holding her son’s hand to the way that she had slightly angled in her body to him not straight on. These mannerisms reminded Reyes of a younger her when she had fallen in love with Carlos senior. In those days there weren’t many pictures of them together but she would have bet that if she someone had taken a picture when she first met her parent in-laws and compared it to the image in front of her they would have almost been identical.
Although this young lady in front of her reminded her of a younger self, she physically looked nothing like Carlos’ mother. Where Reyes and her daughters were angular with long lines and delicate features, the woman in Carlos’ arms was soft and supple hiding the strength Reyes had captured in your stance. Finally Reyes thought, someone who cares about who Carlos for who he is not who Carlos shows himself as. In the few short seconds that had passed, Reyes had decided regardless of what happened tonight, this woman was perfect for her son and she would do everything in her power to help Carlos hold onto her.
Carlos senior was not surprised by the intake of his wife’s breathe but the flicker of emotion that she had let slip was tucked away as quickly as it flashed across her stoic features, if he hadn’t been looking he would have missed it but the slip in her mask was all he needed to see. His role for the night would be supportive father, he didn’t need to be concerned or the convincing husband, his wife had already decided on her own.
As close as Carlos was with his father, he was his mother’s son. The two men may be spitting images of each other but Carlos junior and Reyes were one in the same. Both stubborn as they come but their stubbornness and conviction was very early misplaced.
Carlos senior stood up from his chess game, “You must be YN, welcome to Spain, we are very lucky to have you here with us” ending his greeting with a warm smile as he made his way to his wife placing an arm around her back. “I’m Carlos and this is my wife Reyes” Reyes moved her head to the side and broke into a smile that crinkled her eyes in the same way as her sons.
“Welcome to our home, Carlos show her around I’m sure she wants to freshen up before we talk some more”.
At his mother’s direction he started to lead you both back to the long corridor behind you before you had a chance to introduce yourself. Twisting back to Carlos’ parents you called back “Lovely to meet you!”
In a family full of travellers there was nothing worse than keeping the plane on you so there was an easy understanding when the young couple walked away from the older one.
Carlos guided you with his hand loosely against the small of your back pointing out along the way various rooms and their purposes before he stopped at the end of a passage hand hovering above the handle. You didn’t need Carlos to say that this was his room, the belongings inside told you what you needed to know. Everything was neatly laid out, bed made with a nondescript off white bed spread, helmets and trophies covering the shelves that were floor to ceiling along all the walls, bar the bay window that showed an amber lit patio.
All the things were Carlos’ but you got the distinct feeling that he didn’t use this room very much. Carlos had hovered by the door, waiting to follow you in to add commentary to your inspection of his childhood bedroom. He only stayed here when he had dinner at his parents’ house. Most of his time he stayed at his apartment in the town centre, with his work schedule so busy, when he was signed to McLaren he purchased a small home for himself to save on the commute time. That and all of his siblings had moved out with their partners, he didn’t want to be the sole focus of his parent’s attention, staying amongst his teen trophies that he was still their little boy and not an adult.
Your suspicions were confirmed with all awards and trophies dated prior to 2015. The pictures of Carlos smiling back to you was maybe 10 years younger than the one who stood at your back. Youthfulness evident with his toothy smiles and crinkled eyes on podiums and in the arms of his cousins and friends. The harshness of the world hadn’t touched him yet. The Carlos in the photos you had seen in your search had a clipped smile never touching his soul. You saw just how much your companion had changed over the years, and it sadden you how quickly he had to grow a tough exterior.
You had circled through the room before Carlos spoke up.
“I don’t stay here very often but when I do it’s as I left it” He wasn’t embarrassed by saying it, Carlos was proud of his upbringing, why would he be ashamed of his childhood even if it was a shell to what you would have experienced.
“Will you be staying here tonight?” You tenderly raised. As much as this room was nostalgia, staying in Carlos’ childhood bed at his parent’s house was not what you felt comfortable with.
Carlos saw the question you had hidden in the one you asked. “I will be yes, I’ve set up the guest room for you already”. Carlos in his anticipation had set up your room well ahead of time, his anxiety not letting his mind rest until he had done so the prior weekend.
He took your hand and directed you back the way you both had come, sliding open a glass door leading you out onto the patio towards a smooth path that mirrored the one at the houses entrance.
What you had thought was a backyard shed was actually a granny flat, and one much larger than you had initially sized up. It was more akin to a small townhouse, two stories with large worn stone bricks only broken by a few narrow windows. An old creeper plant of sorts had crawled up one of the walls with sparse leaves smattering the searching vines.
Carlos twisted a narrow door knob, lightly pushing the door open. Inside it was like stepping back in time, a worn paved floor stretched in front with a small wooden table covered in a transparent plastic cover with two chair pushed in the centre of the room, the left had an L shaped kitchen with a seventies narrow metal sink and sun worn scalloped lace curtains. The right of the room was a sitting area with dark brown fabric couches with laced doilies placed at the head rest area of each. The chairs were facing a stone fireplace with a narrow charred looking iron grate placed on the hearth.  
“My parents bought the house when they were married this was where they lived until they built the main house. They lived here until I was born as there is only one bedroom they finally decided they needed more space.”
Carlos had fond memories of this small home, many a summer his grandparents had stayed here, memories tied to helping his grandmother cook with him standing on a chair by the sink, playing cards with his grandfather at the table , or trying to play toy cars with the grout patterns between the tiles on the floor.
“My grandparents used to stay here until recently but now we take them to their home after they visit as they aren’t as young as they used to be. They prefer the comfort.”
You could picture a little Carlos running around the place stirring up trouble , a cheeky boyish smile greeting anyone who could him red handed.
You hadn’t noticed that tucked behind the main door was a smaller sliding wooden door which housed a narrow winding iron staircase, a concrete trough and narrow worn wooden bench with rain boots tucked in pairs neatly beneath. Carlos had switched on a hanging lamp and started to make his way upstairs. Two rooms were up here , a bedroom and a bathroom with of which matched the theme of downstairs save a new looking bed and renovated bathroom. Not quite as the seventies as the main area but more 90s but still a pleasant reminder that although Carlos and his family were well off, much more than you at this point could comprehend, were still appreciative of where they had come from, knowing that it was through hard work and sacrifice the reason for their current comforts.
Carlos was nervous that you wouldn’t like staying here, if you had protested or he had picked up on discomfort he would have offered for you to stay at his apartment, but he hoped that you would stay here, forming new memories alongside to the backdrop of his cherished ones from when he was little.
Carlos sat next to where you had placed yourself on the bed, “Just wait until you see the sun rose over those hills, you’ll love it”. You agreed with him, already In love with how candid Carlos was, knowing that what he said would solidify the fairy tale.
Dinner was an easy affair, Carlos parents were very similar to your own, fiercely protective of their son proving to be a united front in assessing you. Their facade although welcoming and kind staying in place for the evening, never slipping regardless of how much charm Carlos and yourself plied on.
You made a note to try again on the morning to see if they liked you tomorrow knowing that gaining their approval meant more to Carlos than you. His parents not liking you would crush Carlos so for his sake you would try again. But also told yourself that with the charm you wouldn’t bend over backwards and change yourself for them. You would for Carlos to make him happy as he would for you but it was the two of you together, not you dating his parents.
Carlos could see you becoming disheartened as dinner progressed to coffee. You had graciously helped clean up and prepare the hot drinks trying to see if Carlos’ mother would soften. But the warm parents who greeted you were still tucked away. So you had quieted as the night went, teaming it with yawns and hazy eyes trying to get them to see that it was time to call it for the night at which Carlos finally caught on close to one in the morning . Carlos excused the two of you collecting your bags front the front door and carrying them out to where you were staying. He ran through only how to run the hot water system before a final kiss goodnight. You didn’t hesitate turning for a warm shower and the night, wishing sleep bring you better luck tomorrow with getting his parents approval.
Unlike what you had assumed that Carlos’ parents disliked you, what had actually happened was a poorly executed plan in protective parents farce. While the two of you were touring the Sainz home, Reyes and Carlos senior had discussed tactics of how to approach the new lady in their sons life.
Reyes saw herself so clearly in you and whispered to her husband to follow her lead for the night. Carlos senior though apprehensive, did as his wife said, switching from his warm personality to one of protective father. It hurt him seeing his son slowly get confused as the night progressed. Questioning where were the parents on all of the arranged dinner dates and who had they replaced them with. Carlos senior however saw that as his son grew disappointed , you did too but still kept trying. It was the determination Reyes had been trying to seek out, and with you preparing coffee had been a crucial piece of the puzzle. For Reyes it was about familial respect as well as love. Her son could live whoever he wanted but if they were rude and improper she would try to get Carlos to see and to sway her son from his decision.
As Reyes had hoped, you had offered to help, never stepping on her toes a check in Reyes box. Tomorrow would be the second part of the puzzle, if her son could respect their wishes for the night. It didn’t matter to Carlos senior where the two of you stayed, you were both adults and educated not to be rash, but Reyes had only a few rules, one of which no sex while staying with the parents. She hoped Carlos could remember when they had could his older sister with her now fiancée and the verbal telling off Blanca had received. If Carlos could remember that for tonight then she was happy for the two of you with her blessing, time would tell in the morning.
Reyes excused herself for the night as her son re-entered the living room, clicking the back door shut from the encroaching chill.
Carlos, still confused nodded to his mother good night before taking a seat next to his father. They sat in silence waiting until the sound of water through the pipes started from the front end of the house signalling that their conversation wouldn’t be interrupted.
“I’m going to say this only once” Carlos senior was not acknowledging his son but maintained his stare into the dark gardens, his voice soft as if aware that if his wife caught him he’d be in serious trouble.
“You have both mine and your mother’s approval , she is all we want for you. You look at her like I looked at your mother when we first met.”
Carlos felt himself exhale a breath he hadn’t been conscious of holding.
“Your mother loves you very much but you know how she can be, she’ll let in YN, be patient son , the hard part is done.”
Carlos went to interject but his father continued “Your mother knows that if she missteps she will lose you, she will not do so , history will not repeat”
His father was alluding to his parents relationship with his maternal grandmother and the pain of that lost relationship that happened when Reyes introduced Carlos senior all those years ago, the catalyst for them living in the countryside away from her family to show that her decision which Carlos senior was lifelong and serious
Carlos senior glanced at his son and saw the confusion still there, they hadn’t spoken about his grandmother before so he didn’t know the story but he picked up the pieces enough to know that even though his mother looked like she wasn’t making an effort, she was actually doing as much as she could.
Carlos junior didn’t know it but as his parents were tucked in for the night, his mother whispered to his father “He’s finally found his person.” Before turning over and dozing. Carlos senior couldn’t help but agree happy at last that his family was now whole.
Link to Part 17
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asukaskerian · 3 months
Text
monthly word count + year total
TOTAL FOR DECEMBER: 3 844 words. ..hhghgb i thought it was moooore
POSTED: nothing.
IN PROGRESS: -madatobiizu ABO cherry wine verse (979 words) -bleach pack fuckening ABO verse, baby cuteness (450 words) -bleach suburban ot4 (1 414 words) -bleach psychic wolves (377 words) -bleach bloodsport (624 words)
--
YEARLY TOTAL:
jan: 4 700 feb: 6 014 mar: 4 512 apr: 4 889 may: 1 719 jun: 1 184 jul: 2 271 aug: 1 615 sep: 3 026 oct: 2 109 nov: 4 272 dec: 3 844 TOTAL: 40 155 AVERAGE: 3 346.25
yeah so the downward trend is getting obvious. HHHHHH.
2010: 136 235, average: 11 353/month. ... :X :X :X 2011: 167 675, average: 13 973/month. :X 2012: 332 396, average: 27 700/month. eeeeeeee. 2013: 396 917, average: 33 076/month !!!!!!!! 2014: 315 332, average: 26 276/month ... :X 2015: 206 403, average: 17 200/month. 2016: 127 495, average: 10 625/month. >:( 2017: 80 828, average: 6 736/month. .__. 2018: 128 033, avergage: 10 669/month. FUCK YOU 2017. 2019: 159 609, average: 13 300/month. huh! 2020: 105 791, average: 8 816/month. ... hhghhrhhhhhhhhhhhhhh flops. 2021: 101 776, average: 8 481.33/month. =__= 2022: 73 461, average: 6 121.75/month. hhAHHJZVB WORSE THAN 2017 2023: 40 155, average: 3 346.25/month. this used to be three months' worth. hgh.
FICS I POSTED THIS YEAR:
-Howling Outside Your Door : Grimmichi pack fuckening : Chapters 5, 6 and Epilogue -Cherry wine chapter 8 (madatobiizu ABO) -Ichigo centric sequelette to Howling Outside Your Door (grimmichi pack fuckening ABO)
I did work on suburban ot4 and STILL don't wanna post it in public but otherwise it's still all half-dying fics trying to crawl back to the surface. no new ideas or anything. this *sucks.*
--
have some teasers anyway.
-- cherry wine --
"Don't joke. The cheeky omegas are already coming out of the woodwork as it is."
"Ah… Yes? Your fault for reacting to that girl the other day. Now they think that's your type."
Madara didn't truly change his posture but suddenly he looked a little more tired. "I thought that was why Raiha's niece seemed to have had a personality transplant."
"Aheh." Izuna hadn't even been sure he had noticed. "Mmh. Yes."
Huffing, his brother leaning on one elbow, fist mashed against his mouth grumpily, and glowered at the Lightning envoys who were doing nothing to ask for it.
"I didn't even want her, I just thought she was amusing. Who even wants to take someone to bed that they could break in two sneezing too hard?"
Izuna tried not to look too amused as the Lightning envoys went to sit and the Water ones started up the alley, lest they take it personally.
"Hm, yes, let's not tell people you like dangerous shinobi better, if that's all the same to you. They'd have a much better chance of assassinating you."
Madara threw him an irritated glare that became a watchful glance over Izuna's shoulder. Izuna fanned himself absently and took his time turning to see which of the Water Country envoys had --
Hm.
Hm.
Why was this little blond brat dragging behind to grin at Tobirama.
--
bleach pack fuckening ABO
Ichigo feels so stupidly nervous watching Grimmjow's pack investigate his apartment. His apartment with the huge bath he never uses and the sunken living room-couch area and fuck, all his pillows and blankets are in the cupboards after the grueling wash they all needed last time his pack stayed over. Renji makes a mean cocktail but by god they stain.
He's going to look like he's trying too hard if he gets out the cushions now, isn't he.
"You, uh. Need--"
"You going to close the wards, Shinigami?"
Ugh. Ichigo makes a face at the blond one. He seems to remember he's an asshole.
Wait, they're all assholes. They hang out with Grimmjow. Have to be just to survive him, no doubt.
As he turns to seal the wards again, he catches a glimpse of the man himself, standing wih shoulders loose and hip cocked as he surveys the place. In the crook of his arm is the b-- his -- Ichigo does up the wards.
--
suburban ot4
"Ichigo made a pretty big decision on his own, and he didn't talk to me. He shared it with this other person as a, a done deal thing, and he didn't even talk to me about it."
Grimmjow whistles low and quiet between his teeth. "Yeowch. I'll dig a hole behind the gazebo."
Orihime blinks. "To put his--"
"Corpse, yeah, I'll make it square so it doesn't pop up too much, we just gotta fold him up a bit."
"… Pff."
"Plant some flowers on top to make it look legit with the loose soil. Gorgeous blooms."
Orihime presses both hands against her mouth, and still cackles. "Mean!"
"Or hey, tomatoes, some peppers. Delicious."
She giggles some more. Ah, it fixes nothing, and yet it's like being tickled out of a heavy coat. Freeing, like she can breathe a bit better as it drops around her feet.
"Sounds -- hehe, sounds good. Adzuki beans? Mm, I could make my own paste."
He smirks, just a little bit.
"… Haaaaa. I should probably try talking with him before the… gardening."
Grimmjow-san scoffs. "Quitter."
"Grimmjow-san!"
"Yeah, yeah, maybe. I mean, you're giving up an occasion of growing his namesake on the corpse of the guy who wronged you, which is the coldest, most badass shit, but you do you. Tch'."
… She'll feel a little bad in a minute that she laughed, because strawberry jokes are the lowest of -- hahaha -- hanging fruits.
--
bloodsport (ichigo, charlotte, luppi)
"… What's your names, anyway," he mumbled a fifteen minutes' bullet train ride later. "And do I, um. Pronouns."
Being laughed at was almost more of a relief than it was embarrassing.
"Listen, home is just kinda -- hngh. I mean? Gay people exist--"
The small one's face spasmed; their emotions -- yeah, Ichigo didn't want to notice that howling disbelief or the edge of hysterical hilarity that went with it, thanks.
"They still have to marry and have children. I mean, if they're echt. Duty to the blood. Whatever. So gender stuff is, uh. Yeah. Not really. Fuck."
Askin concealed a grimace a beat too late. The tall one grinned genially, leaning toward Ichigo and Askin with their hands linked sweetly behind their back. "You poor deprived chickies! You confused sweethearts. I am going to open your minds so wide--"
"Ugh," the small one cut in, rolling their eyes, and got a toothy, brilliant smile aimed their way along with a sharp threatening I-will-cut-your-neck gesture.
"To start with! Arrancars have been known to reproduce asexually. In the first couple generations, or maybe when the blood is very strong, but!"
"Didn't Starrk bud out a little girl ten years back."
"That guy's a freak though. Leading to! Two, the gender binary is for squares. Still with me, chickies?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Three, I'm the womanest woman who has ever womaned."
"Oh." Yeah, good thing Ichigo had asked. Her voice was, uh. Deep. And the contrast between her mannerisms and makeup and her T-shaped frame, thick with muscle--
"But also, transcending the restrictive gender binary inherited from our caveman ancestors back on Earth is excellently beautiful and I am, naturally, first place at it."
--
grimmichi psychic wolves
"So he just… decided to ditch us."
Yylfordt said nothing for a few seconds, and then all at once grabbed a chair and flung it to the floor, along with the clothes and books piled up on it. Nakeem watched the books scatter, sliding along the linoleum.
"What the fuck! What the fuck?! Why would he do that? We're the best, baddest fucking squad, we're fucking black ops at the top of the game, what fucking reason would he have to fucking leave?"
More silence, out loud. Inside their minds everyone was buzzing incoherently, tidbits of denial blurring past.
Makes no sense, what about his pride, we were gonna be so great--
"He hated the sex," Nakeem said.
He got stared at.
"… The heat sex?" Di Roy asks eventually. "But he always said it was the best sex of his life."
Nakeem considered it. Not wrong, but. "Also the worst."
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