#then it wasn’t a business-savvy decision now was it

[willheis]

i mean, what a slap in the face to your audience to tease and hype up a paywall of all things

#watcher tv #watcher #and sure they’re gonna say they’re a company and it’s just about the money blah blah but if you lose most of your audience bc of this… #then it wasn’t a business-savvy decision now was it #don’t even get me started on the international subscribers issue

[arlestial]

Hey, could you make a part two of how the Blue Lock boys make up for the forgotten date? (Nagi,Isagi,Bachira) 🌷

❝if you'd have been the one❞

synopsis : Life is sometimes difficult, keeping them busy and away from you; until it turned to take you away from them.

pairing : Isagi Yoichi, Nagi Seishiro, Bachira Meguru x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : Alternative endings (angst or fluff/comfort)

word count : 4300~ words

author-note : Hi !! I’m so happy y’all liked this, so I decided to write a part II. Some wanted angst, others comfort, so I did both in order to please everyone :) The part I is here ! Thanks for all your kindness, I’m overjoyed to see so much attention on my writings 😭 I hope you’ll like it !! take care of yourself ♡

tag-list : @cecee77, @mandapanda16, @mariyumemi, @someonethatisnobody, @erintaro, @missalienqueen, @8-xnny, @miyanosm, @neuvilletteismybby

ISAGI YOICHI’s eyes widened when he saw your text, after the game. He knew he fucked-up the instant he stepped inside the soccer field, already regretting his decision. He won, but the stadium applause sounded like an awful ringtone that woke him up to reality, a shrill noise crashing his organs and piercing his ears. His heart was racing; not because of the victory, but because of the apprehension. The fear. The panic, that perhaps, he had lost you. But you wouldn’t leave him, right ? Everybody make errors. You would forgive him, no need to stress. At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself. But in the depths of his own mind, he wasn’t this confident. He took his phone, excusing himself from his teammates that were celebrating, and isolated himself in the corridor. He tried to call, but you refused it twice. He groaned, his hands shaking, trying to tap a text quickly.

22:49p.m. | y/n ♡ : guess you made your choice then.

- read at 00:24a.m.

00:24a.m. | yoichi ♡ : honey please just accept the call

i know I fucked up, I’m sorry

i shouldn’t have done that

- read at 00:33a.m.

00:34a.m. | yoichi ♡ : i know you don’t want to talk to me right now

I’m coming over

- read at 00:38a.m.

00:39a.m. | y/n ♡ : gosh, how savvy and perspicacious of you.

- read at 00:39a.m.

00:40a.m. | yoichi ♡ : here in two minutes

- read at 00:41a.m.

You turned off your phone, completely mad. You clearly didn’t want to talk to him right now, especially this late. He couldn’t care less about you when he was playing on the field; and now, surprisingly, he knew that he fucked up and he regretted it ? Please. You decided to spend the night elsewhere, at your parents, since they were the only ones responding in the middle of the night - they were probably watching a movie at home and were a bit surprised to see you texting them a "hey, can I come over ? got an issue at home" text out-of-the-blue. As you exited your bedroom with a bag filled with spare clothes, you’re met by a raven-haired man, panting, still in his blue jersey, preventing you from leaving the house. He grabbed your waist when you tried to walk past him.

"Isagi, let me go."

"Love, listen. What I did was selfish, I know, it was a terrible mistake."

"So tell me, Isagi, when did you feel regret ? When you stood me up or when I texted you back, making it clear that I was upset ?"

"Actually, from the very first moment my foot landed on the field. But that doesn’t change anything, it’s still shitty of me, and i-"

"But it changes everything, in fact. So, you could’ve turned around. You could’ve joined me at this restaurant, like you promised me, no ? But you didn’t. So you just lied right in front of my face. How bold of you."

He felt like suffocating. You were right. He should’ve refused to play the match, even if there were the most talented players in the world; because you were his lover, goddamnit. He knew you were insecure, because he was rather absent, and he should’ve came to the date he promised to take you to. He was busy with Blue Lock, neglecting you in the process and not setting aside enough time to reassure you like he was supposed to. He wanted you to slap him, to punch him, as hard as you could; he wanted to suffer physically. It was easier to bear physical pain than to handle the mental distress he was in.

"But no, my sweet boyfriend Isagi Yoichi decided to stood me up to play some random game as if he’s not always away from me all the damn time."

"I don’t know why I did that, honestly. It was stupid, and I’m deeply sorry. You know that I love you a lot, right ? You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to loose you because I’m too immature to think before I-"

"Am I even enough for you ?"

You were losing patience, your tone now sharp, trying to bite away the tears from falling.

"Obviously you are, darling. You are more than enough, and you deserve so much better than me."

He hurried to say, his hands coming to your cheeks, gently stroking them with his thumbs. The concerned look on his face grew rapidly in a desperate, frightened one.

"That doesn’t feel like it. If it was the case, you’d have turned around. Soccer had always been your main interest, and I’ve always been the second. I don’t want to be with a guy that prefers a sport to his own partner."

ISAGI YOICHI had never experienced so much fear in a lapse of time this short. His heart skipped multiple beats - maybe it stopped completely, heavy. He heard the blood rushing in his veins, in his ears, as if the pulsations were the applause of a whole stadium; it was deafening. His breath hitched, goosebumps painting themselves on his clothed arms. Don’t go.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ Your mind kept telling you that he wasn’t feeling any regret, that he wasn’t really sorry. If this situation presented itself again, he would pick the same decision, leaving you alone, completely by yourself in this stupid restaurant, below the pitiful looks of the waiters, probably whispering at each other who could even stood you up like that. He put distance in your relationship since weeks, months even, ghosting you when he was too tired to send you at least one text to let you know that he loved you still. Regardless of his lack of attention towards you, he wasn’t even capable of respecting his own promises, as he might prefer to play soccer with his friends as usual. And you were just there, always waiting for him, in every situation, waiting for him to come home with a warm smile and a good dinner, sharing kisses, hugs and cuddles on the couch, disappointed when he was reminding you that he’d be gone again in two or three days to return to Blue Lock. You were tired of it. It wasn’t even a relationship at this point.

"I’m not a toy you can play with for some time and then abandon like it’s nothing. My patience is not infinite."

"I never said that. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss, and I wasn’t enough thoughtful to realize about the consequences of my actions. I just hope you can forgive me for it."

You pushed his wrists away from your face, glaring at him coldly, not wanting to cry for him. You took your bag and walked past him successfully this time, opening the door without giving him a single glance; just stopping in your tracks as you reached the doorknob.

"Goodbye, Isagi. I hope you’ll become the player you desired to be for so long."

You were his motivation, the person he wanted to make proud, the person he wanted to impress when showing his new capacities and his strength. The person he wanted to come home to, everyday, as lovesick as the day before. But now, the tears were flowing silently on his cheeks, as he couldn’t process what he saw. You, closing the door behind yourself, leaving him without any chance of coming back. Because you sincerely realize how much you love someone when you actually lose them.

↳ You tried to push him away, in a faint attempt to show how much you hated him right now. But he just stared at you, his gaze never fading, and he tilted your chin up with his hand. The other went straight to your waist, pressing you against him. Your eyes and his met; and you swore you’ve never saw a fonder look in your entire life. Orbs filled with pure love and softness, enamoured unpronounceable words, a silent plea begging your forgiveness. He leaned and kissed you gently, carefully. When he finally broke the kiss, he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers together, pressing multiple kisses on the back of your hand without breaking the eye contact you both were sharing.

"You deserve someone better, honey. And I want- no, I will become this someone, that will love you properly. I promise you this - and if I break this promise, I swear, you can kill me however you like, it’s up to you."

You bit back a chuckle, amused by his words; but on the depths of your heart, you were fully aware that he was genuine.

"I’ll never disappoint you again. You’re the love of my life, I couldn’t handle loosing you. I’m sorry for what I did, again. I’m an asshole. Really."

He kissed your forehead with so much tenderness, a tenderness you missed during his long absence. He peppered kisses on your face, his grip on your waist tightening, as if you were going to slip away from him. He whispered something else, not daring to break the eye-contact,

"I’d rather watch the whole world burn and experience an endless suffering that having you leaving me for good."

NAGI SEISHIRO tried everything. After multiple unanswered calls and messages left on “seen”, he noticed that you’ve blocked him. He sighed, staring at his ceiling. Was it the end ? He tried to forget you, he really did. He tried to convince himself that you weren’t this important. He tried to wake-up each morning without searching for you underneath the sheets, only to find a cold bed next to him. Occupying his thoughts with games, movies, series, even soccer, wasn’t enough anymore. He needed you in his arms, and he was willing to do every single thing imaginable to get you back.

You were at one of your friend’s apartment, enjoying some time with her watching your favorite series. She left the couch to get you a drink, mumbling a quick "pause the episode, I don’t wanna miss it" before hurrying to the kitchen. You smiled, and did as she asked; until you heard a knock on the door. You frowned.

"You ordered take-out ?", you called your friend from the couch, questionably.

"Nah, I didn’t. Told you we were going to one of my friends’ restaurant this evening."

She came back from the kitchen, two glasses filled in her hands, her brows furrowed. She put them on the table, glancing at the door.

"Who is it then ?"

"Don’t know. Wait, be right back.", she quickly turned around, walking towards the door, and opening it slightly. Her face went blank in approximately 2 seconds, and she gulped.

"Um.. Well, that’s awkward."

You couldn’t hear correctly what your friend said to the stranger; you could only hear a low voice, that sounded awfully familiar. So, you decided to get up, trying to get a peek of the tall figure standing in the corridor.

Your eyes widened.

The series was long forgotten on the screen, the voices echoing between the walls, as you stared, dumbfounded, at him.

Seishiro.

Your friend shifted uncomfortably, deciding to leave you both alone for some privacy as she promptly went to her room. You didn’t know what to say. What to think. But the dark bags under his eyes, that looked stern and empty, his hair even more messy than before, gave you relatively an idea of how the two passed weeks had been for him.

"What are you even doing here, Nagi ?"

Ouch. The use of his name instead of his first name was abysmal; but a relieved sigh escaped from his lips. Finally. Your voice. It sounded so much better than your voicemail, that he had listened every night after you left him in your shared apartment.

"I’m sorry. I- I’m really, fucking sorry for what I did. I miss you, Y/N. I can’t-"

"Nagi, stop. I can’t do this right now."

You cut him instantly, trying to close the door. Well, trying, because he refrained you from doing so, laying his whole strength on the door to keep you from leaving him again.

"Please, Y/N, at least, hear me out."

His voice was pleading, begging even; as much as your heart broke with his wobbly words, you didn’t know what to think, what to say. You bit your inside cheek, wondering what to do, now that he was so close to you, after all this time.

NAGI SEISHIRO looked at you dead in the eye, his own blackish orbs watering at the sight of your frame standing in front of him. His hand wandered to your cheek, his fingertips almost grazing your smooth skin that he missed so bad, as if you were made of real porcelain. Porcelain that he’d break with only one feather touch. So he held back.

"I missed you so much," his voice broke, approaching you hesitantly. "So fucking much. I’m sorry for neglecting you and taking you for granted all the time, I’m sorry I didn’t give you the attention you deserved, the attention you needed. I need you to come back to me. I can’t live without you, baby."

Forgiving him was a tough choice. Your heart was aching at the sight of tears rolling down his cheeks. You’ve never seen Nagi cry before, at least, not cries of pain. But he hurt you, he really did. These two weeks were just obnoxious to him, but they were worse to you. Seeing his texts, his calls, deciding to block him anyway - it was laborious, to say the least, because your feelings for him were still there, haunting your mind constantly, day and night.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ How could you just forgive him like that ? After all he did ? Sure, you meant a lot to him, but did you mean more than anything else ? You were always second, never the first, and it became clearer each day that passed that you weren’t as important as you thought you would be for him. He didn’t even made time for you in his oh-so-important schedule, focusing on soccer and his fucking games, hanging out with his friends who knows where, instead of you. He chose it. It wasn’t random. You weren’t his priority at all. Sitting patiently on the couch, staring at the door with this constant lovesick gaze, waiting for him to return to finally go on your well promised date. But he never returned. And you weren’t going to return either. It was enough.

"You know what ? You were the first thing in my mind, everyday. You always have been the first person I was thinking of in whatever situation I was in. The only voice I wanted to hear, the only person I wanted to see, the only gaze I wanted to get lost in - now don’t tell me you feel the same."

"I do-", but you immediately cut him off, anger taking the best of you.

"You’re a freaking liar. What’s the next step, uh ? You’re going to promise me you’ve changed ? You think I’m stupid or something ? I’m not naive, Nagi, I’ve never been your priority and I’ll never be."

"You don’t understand, Y/N. I’ve been busy, you’re right, but give me a second chance. I promi- I’ll not make the same mistake again, that’s for sure. I realized that you were extremely important to me, more important that I’d like to admit actually, I can’t bear seeing you without me at your side, it just hurts too much. I’m just asking for a second chance."

"As much as it hurts to say, it’s over. I’m not going to give you a second chance when I knew damn well that it’ll not change anything. If you needed time to process your love for me, I’m definitely going to give you time to process it even more."

His eyes widened when he saw you slowly closing the door, in a faint attempt of ending the discussion.

"No, wait, I beg-"

"Move on. It won’t be so difficult anyway, spend some time with your friends and your games, you’ll soon forget about me."

He was now staring at the wooden door of the apartment, tears streaming down his features. He lost you for good this time. And he finally understood how it felt to receive the same treatment that he gave you; to be abandoned by your lover when you needed them the most.

↳ Seeing him in tears didn’t really help your case. Your heart burnt, and you soon felt yourself tearing up, your vision blurred. You let out a broken sob, to which he responded with a call of your name - desperate, probably as broken as your cries - and he embraced you tightly, his nose nuzzling on your neck, sighing when he finally touched you, melting in the loveable hold he wished to feel again. He kept repeating the same apologies, the same confessions of love, hoping it’d soothe your tears.

"I don’t want to hurt you ever again," he mumbled, stroking the back of your hair gently, "I’ll never hurt you ever again.", he assured with a shaky voice.

He kissed your temple softly, still holding you close to him, your head resting on his chest.

"It’ll be the last time I’ll ever put something above you. You’re the most important thing to me - I can’t live without your presence near me all the time. I’m sorry I just realized that I needed to tell you this now. I should’ve known you deserved to hear it properly,"

"You’ll be my highest priority from now on, as it should’ve been from the very beginning, angel."

BACHIRA MEGURU was anxious. At first, he decided to give you space. He hated arguments with you, always trying to avoid them, and he thought that distancing himself might help the situation. Spoiler alert, it didn’t. Sweaty palms grabbing his phone, and immediately turning it off, utterly incompetent. He didn’t want to argue, to entertain a conflict with you; he prefered your smiles and your soft giggles in tickle fights. He missed them. The sound of your hard laughs, the look of your teasing grins. However, he couldn’t bring himself to text you, nor to call you, afraid that you’d pronounce a dry "it’s over". He couldn’t handle the pain, and avoiding it wasn’t the best idea to fix the issue. Meanwhile, it had been 3 weeks, you were now nearly convinced that your relationship with him had come to an end. No texts, no calls, no attempts to see you, you founded it weird, but you didn’t question it. It worried you a bit, yeah, but you weren’t going to chase after him if he didn’t want to talk about it. You were more hurt than worried; after all your moments together, the shared memories and the heavy feelings, he just moved on this easily ? Even though it was totally his fault ? You just scoffed when your friends asked about him, hiding your devasted state behind a mocking tone, saying it was probably over now. You waited for a message all the time, staring at the screen, angry fat tears rolling down your cheeks in frustration. What an asshole.

"You never texted them ? Bachira, are you crazy ?"

Isagi exclaimed, in utter shock. They were in his bedroom, Isagi was sitting on his bed, unable to process what Bachira just told him. The usually joyful man paced around, his face in his hands.

"I- I didn’t know what to say ! I fucked up really bad this time, I was scared of losing them."

"Man, you definitely lost them now. It’s been 3 weeks, you should’ve said something earlier !", Isagi replied, nearly strangling himself in desbelief.

"I know. What should I do ?"

"Bachira..", he sighed, biting his lip in despair, "it’s probably too late now. They’re most likely thinking that you don’t love them anymore or that you moved on."

"But I didn’t ?", Bachira whined when Isagi stood up and smacked his head, annoyed. Isagi mumbled something inaudible, probably about his naivety or his stupidness, again.

"But that’s what it looks like, bro. You stood them up, and they got no news from you, don’t be stupid. Everyone would think the same thing."

Bachira gulped. He was right. And without hesitation, he ran away from his home, heading towards your place, in hope you would accept his apologies. He never sprinted this fast in his entire life, his muscles burning, his ankles aching from the impact of his feet against the stiff concrete of the streets he was running in. The road seemed even longer than usual, and when he finally arrived on your doorstep, he was panting, his hands shaking as he hesitantly knocked. He felt nauseous. Emotions overwhelmed him when he finally saw your form opening the door with a worried look.

"Meguru ? What are you even doing here ?"

He immediately took you in his arms, his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing-in your comfortable scent, relieved. You yelped in surprise, not reciprocating the hug.

"I missed you so much."

He muttered, still trying to catch his breath. You frowned, surprised by his presence.

"It had been 3 weeks, Meguru. It’s a bit late to come here."

"I know. I should’ve come earlier. I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please, forgive me ? I promise I won’t do it again !"

BACHIRA MEGURU didn’t want to let go of you, choosing to hold you even tighter, letting his tears soak your shirt. He couldn’t care less about crashing your bones with just arms; if it was possible, he’d live in your skin. That seemed creepy, to say the least, but he enjoyed over-proximity with you, and he couldn’t bear to be apart from you anymore.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ After 3 weeks, seriously ? You pushed him off of you, clearly not amused by his whines. You just felt anger, disappointment, embarrassment.

"Meguru, you left me alone for 3 weeks straight, and now you’re coming unannounced as if it was actually common ?"

"You don’t understand, Y/N !! I was too anxious of your reaction after our argument. I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt I felt, I didn’t know how to apologize properly.."

"No, you don’t understand. You really think that ghosting and ignoring people as if they never existed was a solution ? I should be the one to do that, not you. You’re always avoiding conflict and I’m so sick of it."

"I know-"

"No, you don’t !", you sneered, taking a long breath to soothe your nerves, "You never did. You haven’t remembered our anniversary - and it’s not the only thing you’ve forgotten along the way. You never took our conversations seriously, you never put any attention in our memories and our celebrations for them. I don’t want to be with someone who’s not even capable of being mindful of our important moments together and of our special dates. If it’s not important to you, alas, it is for me. I won’t give up another thing, especially if it’s something that is dear to me."

"It’s important for me, I swear. I just don’t know how to show it correctly."

"Then learn. But you can count me out."

You opened the door, leaving a broken Bachira behind, reaching after you. But you turned to stop him, giving him a quick nod, a silent no. The weak smile on your face shushed the golden-eyed boy. And he understood.

"I wish you the best, Meguru."

↳ You bit your inside cheek. Always giving promises he couldn’t keep, with a beam and butterfly kisses. And as much as you loved him, you didn’t know if you could tolerate it again, if your heart could handle another betrayal.

"You’re always promising the same things, but you’re never actually changing.", you argued.

"I can. I know I disappointed you, and you have every right to be upset. I’m trying my best, learning to manage my feelings and my habits is hard and tough, but I’ll do it for you. I’m really trying, Y/N,", he said, his voice breaking slightly, "I’m not used to this. It’s- you’re my first love, and I really hope you’ll be my last. I don’t have any experience in terms of relationships. If dates are important to you, I’ll make all the efforts in the world to make them special and memorable. I want to grow old with you, so please, give me one last chance to prove you that I’m worth it."

You hesitated for some seconds. He wasn’t the type to lie, and right now, he sounded strangely serious. It felt out-of-character, but you needed it to actually make up a decision.

"Fine. But it’s your last chance.", you finally whispered,

"Yes ma’am. Trust me on this one, I’ll make you proud of my work."

He sighed, relieved, immediately peppering your face with kisses. You giggled, trying to push him away.

"Gosh, I missed this sound. Oh- and I’m taking you on a date after; that’s the least I can do. I love you to the moon and to saturn, Y/N. Thank you for everything."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #blue lock bachira #Bachira Meguru x reader #blue lock Meguru #bllk Isagi #bllk Bachira #bllk nagi #Nagi x reader #Nagi Seishiro #Nagi Seishiro x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #angst #alternativeendings #blue lock x yn #blue lock x you #blue lock x genderneutral reader #blue lock Nagi #blue lock Nagi x reader

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 86

It was like she had the wind knocked out of her, court? Neglect and abuse? So now the tables were turned on her? They were treating her like a criminal..her own parents, or no, she wasn’t even family anymore, they had officially disowned her..Jared, she needed to call him, she needed to hear his voice telling her that everything would be ok..in his arms she would feel ok again…in his arms she could find comfort and not feel like she was the loneliest person alive. Her whole body felt numb and she barely had the strength anymore to hold the document, the words on the letter danced before her eyes “will that be all? Can I go now?” she breathed and the lawyer nodded. Her high heeled boots could barely carry her as she swayed out of the elevator, her phone, she needed to call someone, anyone, her vision blurred by tears she ignored all the notifications and pressed the first name that came up in her contacts, her brother, it couldn’t possibly be true what her parents had said about him, that he was in on this whole scheming and framing, “Arno?” her heart jumped as the line connected, why didn’t he say anything? “Arno, devo parlarti”. But all she heard was ‘mi dispiace, mi dispiace Coco” and a dry click followed, WHAT???? NOOOOOO, please god NOOOO, you can’t leave me, you can’t!!! sobbing uncontrollably her phone clattered to the hard concrete outside, no, please work..please please, she picked up her dead phone but no matter how hard she pushed the button, the phone just wouldn’t jump back to life, where could she go, what could she do? She didn’t know Jared’s number by heart, ok focus, focus goddammit Coco!

On the other side of the world a plane was setting in the landing for Sydney, by now he was out of his mind with worry, no call, no text, no mail from her or her brother, something was wrong, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. As soon as the plane touched down, he got absorbed by the hussle and bussle of getting out of the airport as soon as possible.

I can’t stay here in NY, I just can’t, I need to see Jared, I need to be with him, this was the right decision, Coco, her mind was racing while she swiped her credit card through the machine. “OK, Miss, here’s your boarding card, hurry the plane will start boarding shortly, gate 18” the man behind the counter pointed her in the right direction. How she got through customs so quick she didn’t know, her feet were killing her from all the running she had done but miraculously she ended up at the gate just in time, here went absolutely nothing, as the airplanedoor was closed right behind her

”No news?” Shannon came walking into his brother’s room, “nothing” it was the despair in his voice that got to him, “I wouldn’t worry too much, her battery’s flat or something, you know how she is, she never owned a phone before you came along, what time is it in the States? Maybe she’s gone straight to bed, I’m sure you’ll hear from her in the morning”, it was endearing how his brother tried to put his mind at ease, but he knew better, something was wrong, this was gonna be a long night..hopefully his jetlag would give him some solace. “I hope so” he sighed “I really hope so”.

”Miss, are you ok, you haven’t touched any of your food”, the flight attendant took away her tray “I’m just not hungry” she forced a weak smile, thank god for business class, the little bit of attention she got made her feel a little bit less alone. “I’m sorry, but I dropped my phone and I can’t seem to get it back to life anymore, and I really need to contact my…my boyfriend” maybe the flight attendant was a little bit more tech savvy than she was. “Can I have a try?” the girl gently asked and she quickly handed her the phone, but no matter how much she pushed the button, the screen remained black “if you know your boyfriend’s number then we can send him a message, or maybe an email”. Coco bit her lip and shook her head, how the hell was she gonna find him? This was like looking for a needle in a haystack, what had she done? She was lost and alone and completely helpless, she could feel her heart breaking into a million little pieces knowing that she no longer was part of a family, she was not enough, never was and never would be again, her past had been taken from her and actually so was her future. They had made the world a lot more hollow for her by the stroke of a pen, all gone, all done, never looking back.

Hours and hours later, she was standing in the midst of Sydney airport, everyone in a rush to get to their destinations, her fingers fondled the dead phone in her pocket, ok, think, there’s what seems to be a phoneshop, go buy yourself a new phone, these guys would definitely be able to help her find Jared’s number, ok come on, don’t be shy, oh who am I kidding? Come on, so what if they call you a tech retard?. “Hello, can I help you?” a young man approached her with the typical smooth sales smile, “I hope so, my phone doesn’t work anymore, I was hoping that you could maybe fix it?” she hesitantly showed him her tattered phone. “Fix it?” he huffed “we have an entire wall here of brand new phones, Android or iPhone, which one would you prefer, do you have everything stored in your Cloud? Do you use e-sim,.” What? A cloud, android? Sim? Her cheeks going bright red she stammered, “it’s ok, I’ll wait, thanks for your time though” all embarrassed and ashamed of herself, she quickly beelined it out of the shop. She was tired, jetlagged, hungry and thirsty and she missed Jared, ok think, think for god’s sakes..what hotel was he staying in? nope, she didn’t remember, how many hotels could this city have? I’ll do this the old fashioned way then. ”Where to, Miss?” the cabdriver asked her, “every 4 or 5 star hotel in Sydney that you can think of”

Everywhere she went, she was frowned upon or ignored or even kindly requested to leave the hotel premises, they all thought she was a stupid fan trying to sneak into the hotelroom of her idol. He seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, “no luck?” the cabdriver asked as she got back in and shook her head, “you know, these stars they never use their own name to book a room, it’s always some kind of Disney or cartooncharacter, you know” he casually steered the car back into the heavy traffic. Oh great, a Disney character, no way, he would never do that, oh god, her mind just felt so incredibly numb, it felt like she had been travelling forever, would this goddamn nightmare just end? Despite the cab driver’s good advice of using Disney characters names, she was still frowned upon and requested to leave, she got out of the cab, this was the last hotel on the list, if this didn’t work, then she would get herself a room here, get some sleep and then fly back..home..there was no home for her anymore, ok yes her apartment in New York  but just thinking about NY and her parents who would still be there made it another no-go zone for her.

”Welcome to the Park Hyatt hotel, how can I help you?” the receptionist gave her a beaming smile, “Hi, I’m looking for someone who is possibly staying here with you, his name is Jared Leto, I’m his girlfriend and I would join him here in Australia, but my phone is broken and now there’s no way I can reach him..” The receptionist interrupted her “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to give any information on our residents”, so once again the same blabla.. “I know, and I understand, but this is an emergency..I know he’s probably not listed under Leto but I really need to see him, he’s expecting me” she was getting desperate knowing that this was her last chance, for fuck’s sakes Leto, are you even in Australia or was that just some excuse to get rid of me too, Cubbins?. “I’m sorry, Miss, like I said, I really can’t give you any info..” he rattled but she quickly breathed “Cubbins, Bart, Bartholomew Cubbins” all of a sudden it dawned on her that this might be the name he was registered under. “Just a moment, and your name is?” oh my god, bingo, he was actually here? “Harper Coco De Robiano d’Arcy” saying her name out loud, realizing the horror and the emptiness behind it, gave her a foul taste in her mouth. The receptionist gestured for her to take a seat in the lobby and went to another more private desk to make his call.

Jared’s heart was doing summersaults in his chest as he hammered the elevator button, she was here, she was finally here, he had been out of his mind with worry, it didn’t matter anymore, his lover, the love of his life had kept her promise. It took so long, Harper hung her head, the receptionist still hadn’t returned to his desk, what if he wasn’t here either? and now she had paid the cabdriver and let him go. Jared jumped out of the elevator, his eyes scanning the huge lobby, front desk nothing to be seen, his heart stopped beating for a second, when his eyes finally found her in a huge chair, completely lost in her own thoughts. “Coco..!!” she heard her name echo around the lobby, oh god, he was here and she shot up from her seat and ran straight into his open arms

”You’re here, you’re finally here, I love you so so so so much, babe!!!” he held her tight, he could even feel her hammering heart through his shirt, his hungry lips locked with hers in a much overdue and fiery kiss. In between kisses, he kept on whispering his love for her, “come on, let’s go to my room, I don’t need this audience” he grinned as he slowly let go of her and she noticed the staring eyes in the lobby. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the receptionist who had been willing to enable their reunion and followed Jared to the elevator where she pushed herself against him, she had so needed him, crawling into his arms again in complete silence, just knowing that they were together again was enough.

"I still can’t believe you’re here, I tried calling you, texting, sending you e-mails, what happened?” he closed the door of his penthouse suite behind her, he wanted to throw her on the bed straight away, but something was going on, he could see and feel it, she was so lost in her own thoughts all the way up her. “I dropped my phone, it won’t switch on again, I tried but I couldn��t remember your number, and that guy at the airport tried to sell my a new phone, but I just…I’m just too stupid for all that new technology and then I didn’t know what hotel you were staying at, and I’ve been in every hotel looking for you, but they didn’t believe me and I..” she rattled, fishing her phone out of her purse as if to prove it, “I’m sorry, Jared, I’m so sorry” all the stress and all the madness suddenly caught up with her and she just couldn’t hold back the tears that came streaming down her face. “Hey, shhhhh it’s ok, don’t cry” he held her again, what the hell had happened? This was not some normal release of a little bit of stress, there was more to it than that, “come on, let’s sit you down” he guided her over to the couch “what happened, tell me, this is not about your phone..how did things go with your parents?” he let go of her and poured her a drink, the minute he mentioned the word ‘parents’ he noticed her freeze up completely. This was going to be a long night, but he had time, why did he convince her to go see her parents when it obviously did more bad than good?

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #30 seconds to mars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #fanfiction #fic #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #30 secondstomars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 86

[normalizepicklemartinis]

What do I think I struggle with:

Inferiority complex, when it comes to whatever reason I deem people higher than me - whether it be people I meet at work, friends that came from a richer background, etc.

Not being completely comfortable with very good friends - might be an anxiety thing. Takes me a lot of time to become comfortable and remain comfortable around them even after some time

Mood swings

Being judgmental, holding on to things people do and judging them for it, placing myself higher than them

Understanding myself and defining myself - I have so many interests and feelings that sometimes I can’t be all of them. And one side of me comes out strongly or I forget other pieces of who I am - being a Gemini from a mixed background is hard!

I grew up in a really unique way. I was rich in some ways, to some people I went to school with, and poor in other ways when I hung out with rich forest hills/egr kids. I never thought about college until right before. I didn’t really plan my future out. But I knew I was bound for something greater. I knew I had a fire inside of me and an electricity that was too big for my hometown. After high school, with everyone knowing my business, I wanted to go to a city where I could be a nobody. At the same time, always feeling like I stood out in my town made me seem to feel seen wherever I went. I definitely crave being seen, being validated, complimented, sought-after, hard to reach and tough to catch - I like being an elusive dream girl. I didn’t as much like being a girlfriend because it took away that thrilling spark of life. I feel like I really shine when I’m single and able to dazzling people, and use my sexuality to my benefit.

I also grew up in a very diverse school system. But for one year, I went to Caledonia, which was the opposite. I rebelled against that and basically my best friends were all different than me and looked different and exposed me to so many different walks of life.

I was also raised in the church so I had a Christian upbringing as a foundation. My parents definitely taught me morality and conviction to do what is right… even if I don’t get it right all the time.

With my parents being not rich not poor, we were thrifty in a lot of ways, which taught me humility, and street smarts, and to be savvy.

I was exposed to a plethora of lifestyles growing up. And I sook out many. I was curious and I knew there was more out there.

My childhood was amazing - maybe I watched john tucker must die a little too early because I plotted to take down a girl in school I was jealous of and break up a couple of which the boyfriend I’ve never met. I definitely wasn’t the nicest young girl. But I’ve grown out of that. That was adolescent me trying to spice up a boring life at the time. I do regret those things now, some of them I have to live with, but I think I am a good person.

I want to stay grounded. I don’t want to get too big for my britches. I don’t want to set unrealistic expectations. I want god and the universe to show me dreams bigger than I’ve imagined, but I don’t want to need them. I want to be grateful for every day and live more spiritually and connected to others. I want to look out and check up on my friends, and be an honest person, and have fun, and find the love of my life when I’m not looking.

I know I’ll have ups and downs in my confidence. I always do. But I want to remember that baseline that should always be there. I want to think clearly and strongly about myself and my decisions. And I want to go after everything that I want, and walk into friendships and opportunities like I deserve to be there, because I do. Because I am a great person and worker and friend.

[ekho-ekho-ekho]

Flowers, from Algernon

In a 1959 short story by Daniel Keyes, a mentally disabled man, Charlie, undergoes experimental surgery to “increase his intelligence.” His progress is measured against the first successful mouse subject, with whom he develops a sense of kinship. But just as Charlie’s intelligence peaks, the mouse's wanes, and it dies soon after. Charlie can then only watch, horribly aware, as his own faculties drain away bit by bit.

Incidentally, this is how it feels being deprived of ADHD medication.

Enjoy the flowers,

Algernon

—actual note* that I sent to several leading figures in the FDA as well as the Administrator of the DEA — attached to bouquets of paper roses** — while waiting on my prescription this past week***.

* For context, the rate of ADHD diagnoses saw a sharp uptick during Covid, when a bunch of people working outside of a structured environment for the first time in their adult lives found they were having the exact same problems in work as their kids were having in school. Add to that a handful of unscrupulous telehealth apps that pushed through as many stimulant prescriptions as they could (exploiting a short-lived loophole in diagnostic criteria), and in the span of a few short years you’ve got a sudden explosion in demand.

Due to those sketchy business practices, the aforementioned telehealth apps are now in boiling hot water with both the DEA and FDA. But as for what’s to be done about the patients they were treating . . . well, suffice to say, there’s been an Adderall shortage since October 2022 that has now, in February 2023, extended to the regular and generic versions of every alternative on the market, including some of the (generally less effective) non-stimulant options. Case in point, it’s February 14, I’ve been waiting on my prescription since February 3, and I’m not likely to see it filled for at least another three days.

“So why don’t the pharmaceutical companies just make more pills to meet demand?” you might ask? Well, some claims have been made about labor and supply shortages, but a big part of the problem is that stimulants are a controlled substance, meaning the FDA/DEA restrict how much may be produced at a given time. And despite the massive surge in demand, these organizations have refused, point-blank, to raise the production cap for 2023.

The FDA and DEA have also refused to give adequate explanation for this decision, despite inquiries by everyone from The Guardian to state legislators. I can only assume this strategy is meant to weed out the “drug seekers” by testing everyone’s goddamn patience till they snap or give up. After all, those of us who were diagnosed through “legitimate” channels already know how to wait months on end for treatment! (Not that the nine-month diagnostic process could possibly be what drove so many people to those apps in the first place. Nah, surely they all just wanted uppers =_= )

** The more politically savvy among you might be thinking, Bluh bluh that’s pointless you know, flowers are expensive and federal officials aren’t allowed to accept gifts valued at over $20.

This is true! But scroll up and reread what I actually said, and you’ll see they were PAPER flowers. You chump. You rube. Nothing I sent cost more than $15 total.

(also if anyone’s curious, the company is called Lovepop; great alternative to real flowers if you’re a broke bitch but still want to spread the love. or annoy a government official.)

*** There was a word count limit on the note, so I wasn’t able to write out the most detailed summary.

(Flowers for Algernon was later adapted into a novel, but a PDF of the original short story can be found here. Reminder that it’s from the 50s and as such doesn’t utilize the most up-to-date language or understanding of psychology. But the sudden upswing in ability — and the gradual, horrifyingly conscious decline — is intimately familiar in my present situation.

#personal #ADHD #adhd medication shortage #adderall #Flowers for Algernon

[franzbiblio]

Gift for SewerReptile

Booster had already mostly forgotten the nightmare by the time he opened his eyes. Still, the vague sense-memory of trapped helplessness prevented him from just turning over and falling back asleep. At least this one hadn't just been his subconscious replaying the greatest hits of his failures over and over again.

He turned to grab his phone, but instead found himself focusing on where Mom and Michelle stared out from the spherical holophoto. He wasn't even sure why he still hung on to the stupid thing. As if he really needed the reminder of how they looked when it seemed every other night they were there in his dreams staring back at him with disappointment and revulsion.

Booster snatched his phone and sat up, checking the time: 1:14 AM. Too early to just go for a run and start the day, especially since he and Ted were meeting a client early tomorrow, and dark shadows under his eyes wouldn’t exactly help make a gold standard impression. He punched in his phone’s passcode and checked his messages.

He deleted several scams and scams-adjacents that wanted him to advertise their product in exchange for exposure, a dozen no-name podcasts requesting interviews, someone claiming to be the mother of his illegitimate child who would keep quiet in exchange for ten thousand dollars and a lock of his hair. Booster closed his business email after that one. Hopefully, once Blue and Gold Restoration was solvent enough he could hire an assistant again ASAP. 

With a swipe of his thumb, he moved to private texts and saw Tora had sent him a picture of a golden retriever with a star bandanna around its neck. She added the caption: “Saved this dog and his owner… turns out his name is Woofster Gold!”

Booster laughed, saved the image and without thinking forwarded it to Ted. A soft chime came from the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. Oh right.

Ted kept such weird hours that a lot of the time Booster forgot they were technically sharing a room. Except when he left clothes on the floor for Booster to trip over or left pieces of whatever project he was working on Booster’s side of the bed. That particular habit more than anything confirmed to Booster that Ted had been really telling the truth when he’d spent the majority of his time on the JLI whining about his lack of a love life. 

If Ted left his phone that probably meant he was still somewhere in the apartment.  

Booster got out of bed without bothering to turn on the light. He padded down the hall and wasn’t surprised to see a familiar head backlit by a laptop screen sitting on the sofa, headphones on and oblivious to the world. Booster stood there for a moment just watching, unsure if he even really wanted to bother Ted. Maybe he could just creep back to bed. For years, Booster would have thought nothing of plopping down on the couch beside Ted hooking an arm around his shoulder or putting his feet on his lap just to annoy him, but now Booster dithered. Every idea to draw Ted’s attention immediately discarded as too clingy, or too obnoxious or too— too something. 

After saving the Justice League, starting up another business together had seemed the next natural step, and it had been just as natural to go out for a couple of drinks to work out the proposal, and after that, more drunk off success and enthusiasm than beer it had seemed natural to start making out in their shared cab ride, and then after that it had only made sense to share a place to keep expenses down. While all those decisions at the time had seemed like the normal step-by-step consequence of the one preceding it, when taken in their entirety Booster found himself slightly mystified how he ended up here: staring at the back of Ted’s head not sure what to do because no one had written a how-to guide for best friend with benefits, and even Booster was business-savvy enough to know that there was no market for it.     

Ted stretched, and craned his neck to the left and right, shifting his eyeline enough that he froze, and turned sharply in Booster’s direction. “Geez, Booster, are you planning on becoming Batman now?” Ted said, body sagging with relief. “Somehow I just don’t think you’d be able to pull off the cowl in golden pants.”   

“Hey, I just follow where the money is,” Booster replied, the quip came easily enough, but Booster had to desperately wrack his brain for some follow-up before the pause drew  out too long. “...So, what are you doing up so late?” ...And great, now he sounded like a nag.

“It’s not that late, it’s only a little after midnight—” Ted glanced briefly at his laptop screen. “Huh, one o’clock, what do you know.” 

“What are you working on?” Booster asked quickly and leaned over the back of the couch so he wasn’t just hovering in the doorway. 

“Just upgrading the Bug’s software, when I eventually get the Blue Beauty flying again, might as well take the time to make sure she’s the best she can be. I saw some interesting stuff on the Omnizon's ship that might be worth exploring,” Ted said.

“You noticed some fancy features in a spaceship that was in the middle of self-destructing?” Booster asked.

“Hey, I can multitask,” Ted said, and reached for a mug off the coffee table. “There’s some coffee still warm in the kitchen, if you want some.” Booster must have given some kind of look because he immediately followed up with, “It’s decaf, my doctors were pretty persuasive on the whole not exploding my heart thing.”

“I think I’ll just go make some tea,” Booster said as nonchalantly as he could while he made his escape to the kitchen. 

Mechanically he filled the electric kettle with water, grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard and as he waited for the water to heat came to the crushing personal realization that he had absolutely no game. 

All his life the most he usually had to do if he wanted someone was express interest. Some notable exceptions aside, even Trixie, who had been one of the least impressed women he’d ever spent time with, hadn’t taken all that much convincing to go out to dinner with him. Ted, however, was a first-hand witness to every single one of his moves on many, many occasions.

The electric kettle beeped. Booster poured the water into the mug, allowed it to steep and came to the decision that he wouldn’t just slink away. Booster Gold was many things, but he wasn’t a coward. 

Booster returned back to the living room, mug in hand and sat on the couch. Ted wasn’t wearing his headphones anymore, but he was still typing away, fully engrossed in his work.

“You can turn on a movie or something if you want. I don’t mind,” Ted said, not looking away from his screen. Booster turned on the TV and flipped through the channels until he found a very cheap monster movie. This at least got Ted to look up and laugh as the rubber-suited creature waved its arms menacingly at the bosomy blonde flailing in terror in the foreground. They watched in companionable silence.

“It’s kind of nostalgic. I don’t really miss living at the JLI headquarters or, god, sharing a bathroom with Guy, but it did make late night hangouts easier," Ted said after a while.

“I think I learned more about this time period’s culture from your weird late movie marathons than Skeets was ever able to drill into my head,” Booster said.

Ted snickered. “I never had the heart to tell him that no one actually remembers all the US presidents… Well, good thing we’re roommates now and can relive the glory days. Except, you know, with more decaf coffee than beer and popcorn,” he said with a bit of a rueful nod to his cup before returning his attention to his laptop.

Roommates? Booster sat there consumed by an emotion he didn't think there was a word for. Some part frustration, some part indignation, some part plain terror. It was like somehow Ted had completely forgotten to read the script before walking blithely out on stage, leaving Booster to improvise poorly around him. When Ted had come out of his coma he had spent months basically sulking in the JLI’s basement. When Booster had died and been brought back to life he hadn’t wasted a minute before jumping back on the saddle. So, how was it that Ted was able to serenely sit there cracking jokes while Booster sat here having a crisis over a mug of sleepy time chamomile? 

Stung pride demanded action. Out of the corner of his eye Booster studied the space between them on the couch. While facing forward, he methodically scooted across the cushion until he was finally within range to completely slump over, pressing his head against Ted’s bicep. This wasn’t exactly uncharted waters for them, but did it mean something different now?

Ted made a slightly annoyed huff. “Is this payback for all those return flights?” Ted asked. Booster didn’t answer, but pretended to start to snore.

Ted shifted and for a moment Booster wondered if Ted was getting up or shoving him away, but instead Ted repositioned his arm around Booster so he could continue to type. 

Booster's nose now pressed a bit uncomfortably against Ted’s ribcage, but the change also meant he could hear clearly the steady throb of Ted’s heart and coupled with the rhythmic clatter of Ted’s fingers against the keyboard Booster fell asleep for real without even realizing it.

The next thing Booster was aware of, he was being nudged awake. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty, my arm is officially asleep.” 

“Sorry,” Booster yawned, moving upright.

“Nah, don’t worry, they’ll just have to amputate,” Ted said.

Still more asleep than awake, Booster muzzily nodded. “‘S too bad.” He and Ted were still pressed together and Booster sitting up had only made it so their faces were barely inches from each other. Booster could see that Ted was developing laugh lines in the corner of his eyes and mouth. It was simple to lean forward and kiss him. 

There was nothing awkward about kissing Ted, it just felt instinctive, like sharing a private joke. Ted pulled back, and Booster felt his stomach drop until he realized Ted was closing his laptop and turned to Booster with an apologetic grin before kissing Booster again. From this vantage point all his previous anxiety seemed irrelevant and misguided. The only worthwhile question became why hadn't he been kissing Ted earlier?

A crash came from the hall and they pulled apart, abruptly forcing Booster out of the pleasant sleepy world where words weren’t needed. 

“It’s probably a serial killer," Ted said, deadpan. "In horror movies, the couple making out always goes first."

Booster was too annoyed to quip back, and stood up to investigate. Ted didn’t move. “Aren’t you coming with me?” Booster asked. 

“Nope. The attractive blond has a reasonably good odds of making it to the end, but the comic relief has absolutely no chance,” Ted reasoned, and motioned with his hand for Booster to keep going.  

Booster rolled his eyes and stepped out in the hall to find the cause of the crash was a toppled coat rack. A closer inspection, and the removal of a few jackets, revealed the perpetrator was a mobile vacuum cleaner. Booster picked it up, and could see that it had been modified to have a blue, vaguely beetle-like exterior. And everyone got on Booster’s case about branding everything. 

“You good in there Boost— oh, it was Bugby,” Ted said, emerging from the living room. Apparently enough time had passed that he needed to check that Booster really hadn’t been attacked. He quickly righted the coat rack and hung the jackets (most of which were Booster’s) back up. “Well, that’s enough excitement for one night. We’d better go to bed, we do have that meeting in the morning,” Ted said, stifling a yawn.

For a moment Booster stared at Ted, who looked so comfortable, and warm and like home that words crawled up his throat like bile. Maybe Ted had a formula Booster could use to predict how long he could reasonably expect to keep this. Maybe saying anything at all would just ruin everything. 

Booster swallowed and placed Bugby down on the floor, where it gave a consternated few beeps before beginning to move and continue its haphazard way. “Yeah, let's go to bed.”         

#boostle #fanfic

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

[citylightsbooks]

A Women’s History of City Lights: Interview with Nancy J. Peters

We'll be celebrating Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 102nd birthday on March 24, and what better way to remember his legacy AND to mark Women’s History Month, than to honor Nancy J. Peters, Lawrence’s business partner, friend, and longtime comrade at City Lights Books. While Ferlinghetti certainly deserves all of the accolades he’s received, the fact of the matter is there would literally be no City Lights without Nancy Peters. Beyond shepherding City Lights through various fiscal crises and providing the steady anchor that allowed Ferlinghetti to travel the world as a poet and activist, Nancy's vision as an editor and acumen as a publisher were a vital key to the success and longevity of City Lights Publishers.

 ***

City Lights: How did you come to know what City Lights was? How did you meet Lawrence Ferlinghetti?

Nancy Peters: In Greece in the early 1960s, I became friends with Nanos Valaoritis and Marie Wilson who were at the center of an international bohemian/surrealist community. They had a large home which was always full of traveling writers and artists whom they made welcome. The Beat writers were among their guests, and City Lights was frequently talked about as a place everyone would meet up someday. I met Philip Lamantia there and in 1965 he introduced me to Lawrence in Paris at one of Jean-Jacque Lebel’s anarcho-surrealist festivals of free expression.  Before a riotous crowd Lawrence gave a show-stopping rendition of his “Lord’s Prayer.” I was impressed by his powerful stage presence. Later that year, when Philip and I were living in Andalusia, Lawrence wrote Philip, asking for a selection of poems for a Pocket Poets Series volume. We corresponded some while we were putting the book together, but I didn’t see him again until 1971 when I moved to San Francisco.

I’d been working as an executive-trainee librarian at the Library of Congress in the fall of 1968. In April, Martin Luther King was assassinated and the impassioned protests that ensued left Washington neighborhoods in ruins. There was shockingly little assistance to residents from the government and my part of the city was under military surveillance, helicopters hovering over my apartment through the night. A Moratorium to End the War in Vietnam took place in Washington the following year. Over 750,000 people peacefully demonstrated. In a small way, I was involved in the planning and, during the protests, my apartment was crammed with fellow activists.

The Library of Congress was an amazing, fascinating place with compatible co-workers from all over the world—thousands of book people all in one place. However, the mission of the Library is to serve Congress, and the institution was a huge conservative bureaucracy serving a conservative and ineffective Congress as I saw it. I believed that if I stayed there I would have little contact with actual books or opportunities for civic activism.

So I moved to San Francisco, where Philip was living and urging me to come, and spent an enormous amount of time at City Lights while I was job hunting. It seemed like paradise, such a stimulating atmosphere where people could sit down to read, share ideas, and have conversations about books, politics, art. One day in early 1971 when I was walking down the street in North Beach, Lawrence hailed me and asked if I would like to help him with a bibliography of Allen Ginsberg’s writings.  After just a brief meeting at the publishing office, Lawrence went to Europe and his editorial assistant Jan Herman suddenly decided to move to Germany. Jan showed me how all the editorial work was done in the office, told me Lawrence “wouldn’t mind,” and so I found myself beginning an exciting new career in publishing.

 What was your experience taking over as executive director and co-owner in 1984?

The store back then employed seven people: six men at the bookstore and one (me) at the publishing branch. So “executive director” is far too grand a title. City Lights was a small, failing organization by 1982. The store was not founded to make profits for the owners and it never did make a profit. Breaking even was the goal. But every year the losses mounted and there came a time when there were very few books left on the shelves. No one had seen a customer venture downstairs to the lower part of the store for many months.  

At the time, Lawrence was immensely popular and in great demand as a performer and a speaker, so he was traveling much of the time, visiting foreign colleagues, living abroad, finding new writers to translate. At this low point in the store’s history Lawrence told me in a frustrated moment that if I’d like to own City Lights, he would give it to me outright if I would run the business, freeing him to do all the other things he wanted to do. I declined, but told him I would be honored to be his partner. Theft was seriously addressed, and a protracted payment plan was agreed to by Book People, the East Bay employee-owned distributors who extended us credit for a generous period. Savvy booksellers Richard Berman and Paul Yamazaki headed the re-stocking plan. The three of us would go every week to Book People and Lou Swift Distributors to collect enough books to sell the following week. As time went on, everybody at the store consulted book catalogs and took on the responsibility for buying subject sections. I envisioned a participatory structure. If not a co-op, I wanted a bookstore where all the staff had responsibilities and power.

Why the decision not to have multiple bookstore locations around SF?

At one time we seriously considered additional locations. We explored sites in San Francisco’s Mission district and visited city officials in San Jose to talk about a second store there. But our resources were limited, and we were concerned about the time and money that would be required to create a sister store that would embody the same spirit and ethic as the original. During my time as director, the evolving challenges from chain stores and especially Amazon made beginning a new store a very risky enterprise. In retrospect, so many independents were closing that we decided to invest in our present, iconic location. In retrospect I think it was a good decision after watching attempts by other stores fail to duplicate their success elsewhere.

How has North Beach changed, how has it stayed the same? With the exodus of Big Tech and falling rents, how do you think that will affect North Beach and San Francisco in general in the future? Will there be “a rebirth of wonder”?

North Beach when I came to SF was a small bohemian village, where neighbors shared meals on their flat rooftops watching the sun set over the Bay. My rent was $125 a month, cheap even then. City Lights and the Discovery Bookstore (used books) next door to Vesuvio were key places to spend an evening. Two large Italian grocers delivered (no charge) bags of groceries up four flights of stairs to my apartment. The neighborhood was full of inexpensive Basque, Italian, and Chinese restaurants, and many cafes, many of which seemed unchanged since the 19th century. Change happens, and City Lights is well prepared for the future. It’s never easy to predict how things will develop, but the feeling of a lovely Mediterranean town persists, with the wooden buildings painted pastel colors, and the shimmering sea light on misty days. I feel certain that the light of City Lights will prevail for a long time to come.

 Do you feel that your gender had any impact on your experience during your 23 years as director? Do you have any comments about women in bookselling or publishing in general?

Gender always has an impact. The Beat movement was certainly male focused. Even though the undaunted Diane di Prima was recognized, she was never enthusiastically supported by the inner nucleus of Beat poets. It was a long time before the Beat women came into their own. From the start, Lawrence, who insisted he wasn’t a Beat, had eclectic tastes and was open to women’s poetry. He admired Marianne Moore and Edna St. Vincent Millay as much as he did T.S. Eliot, Jacques Prévert, and Allen Ginsberg. In the Pocket Poets Series, he’d published di Prima and, very early in the series, both Marie Ponsot and Denise Levertov.

Women’s rights and opportunities are always vulnerable and cyclic. The Women’s Movement of the 1970s was very powerful and widespread, its impact on women’s lives enormous. At City Lights we hired more women; we published more women. There have always been outstanding women in publishing and bookselling, and during that time increasingly more women writers were published, reviewed, and were given accolades and awards. Women opened general bookstores and women’s bookstores, founded feminist and lesbian presses. It was a thrilling development, to see so many marginalized writers, and not just women, finding established publishers or creating their own presses. Together they created a larger, much more diverse national literature.

I’ve had the pleasure of working with many talented women at the bookstore. And in the publishing branch: Stella Levy, Kim McCloud, and Patricia Fujii. Gail Chiarello collected and edited our bestselling Bukowski stories. Annie Janowitz proposed the timely Unamerican Activities, and Amy Scholder brought us classics by Karen Finley, Rebecca Brown, and others. I’m happy to say that Amy Scholder is again working with City Lights as an editor.

When did you meet the now current publisher and executive director Elaine Katzenberger? What was her position at the bookstore? When did you know that she was the right person to take over as director?

Ah, Elaine, the woman who can do everything! Elaine began at the bookstore sales counter, then reorganized files and the store accounts, and very soon excelled as a book buyer. She had a great feeling for good writing, so I asked her to become an editor and she immediately began adding excellent books to City Lights’ list. She’s smart, witty, multitalented, and politically astute. We are very lucky to have her at the helm.

What is your understanding or vision of what of City Lights is and what it could be? How has Lawrence’s passing impacted this?

Lawrence’s democratic inclusiveness made him the best-selling poet in the U.S. His moral principles, his courage and resilience are a model to be emulated. He conceived City Lights as an educational institution that would open minds to explore and relate to the world through books. “One guy told me he’d got the equivalent of a Ph. D just sitting in the basement reading all our great books,” he often reminded us.

His “literary gathering place” was to be a fulcrum of San Francisco cultural experience, where our bookselling and publishing could amplify the voices of diverse experiences, connect with other creative communities, and serve as a center of dissent and, at the same time, a force for creating a better society.

Lawrence’s vision will continue to be our guiding light. An optimistic realist, he believed that City Lights would long endure as the co-creation of all the dedicated people who work here and make it what it is.

#nancy peters #lawrence ferlinghetti #womens history month #city lights bookstore

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH12

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 12: Resurrection Overture (XII) {cw: brief suicide mention}

After this day's hellish diving training, Qi Leren, who was as heavy as lead, had no strength to climb aboard. He was floating on his back beneath the boat like a miserable little mermaid under the gaze of Chen Baiqi's disdain. Finally, Chen Baiqi dragged him back onto the boat.

On the way back, Qi Leren slept as if dead. When he was woken up by the coastal evening wind, Qi Leren suddenly sat up and the coat that had been covering him slipped down. It was Chen Baiqi’s.　

"What time is it?" Qi Leren asked in a hoarse voice. He remembered that it was about five o'clock when he’d come back, but after entering the border of Dusk where it was sunset all day, it was difficult to tell the time.　

"It's seven o'clock," Chen Baiqi said without looking back as she kneeled on the bow against the wind. "You can hurry home after you wake up, but don't expect me to carry you back."　

Qi Leren responded. After a short sleep, his spirit was much better and he could walk.　

The two people got off the boat together. Chen Baiqi put her hands in her pockets with a cigarette in her mouth and looked at the distant sunset with empty eyes, her expression unreadable.　

"Thank you," Qi Leren suddenly said.　

"Hmm?" Chen Baiqi was puzzled.　

When he first woke up, Qi Leren was slow to respond, but now he had recovered. How could it take two hours to sail from Undead Island to Sunset Island’s port? The ship had already landed, but Chen Baiqi hadn't woken him up after seeing that he was tired enough to sleep. She’d smoked on bow for two hours, waiting for him to wake up. In this world where time was life, she had expended two hours for a person who wasn’t even a formal disciple… No, it took far more time than two hours. This kindness was tantamount to a life-saving grace.　

"Nothing, just wanted to thank you." Qi Leren said sincerely, "For many things... I should thank you."　

The two of them having arrived at an intersection, Chen Baiqi was going back to her store to have dinner with her sister, and Qi Leren was going back to Dr. Lu where he was still spending the night.　

Chen Baiqi stopped and stamped out the cigarette butt: "It's no use thanking me. Come and show me your potential."　

"I’ll work hard."　

"I’ll watch it, too," Chen Baiqi said, then turned and left, waving goodbye at him over her back.　

Qi Leren stood in silence for a moment, looking at Chen Baiqi’s back. She really was a woman with many stories and many worries, but she refused to sell her own stories and was reluctant to share her past. She was tightly wrapped in secrets, and no one knew her age. Even the name Chen Baiqi didn’t seem to be her real name.　　

What had she done in the real world? What kind of experiences had she had in the Nightmare World? Why did she want to adopt a player's child and love her as a sister? How was her half-field broken? Qi Leren didn’t know any of this. His understanding of Chen Baiqi was limited to the words she had revealed—she had once worked in the Heresy Court of the Trials Court, was an assassin who mainly focused on intelligence and assassination, and had a summoning book that sealed many strange creatures, which were accumulated when she traveled in the Nightmare World.　　

He wondered if he could be as strong as Chen Baiqi once he had spent eight years in the Nightmare World. He should be able to, at least, as long as his luck didn’t stop him from reaching his eighth year. Qi Leren gave a wry smile in his heart, got rid of the idea, and set foot on his way home.　　

When he returned to Dr. Lu's clinic, Dr. Lu was treating a familiar young man and nagged, "Jumped from the third floor? I see you’re young, why do you want to die like this? Do you think you’re a superhero? Doesn’t it hurt to jump from the third floor in one breath? Sometimes people jump off buildings. If you can stop it, stop it. Otherwise, forget it. What kind of hero is that? Hey, you’re back? I'm starving for dinner right now."　　

The young man who was being treated by "Doctor’s Orders" also turned his head and leapt up from his chair in surprise: "Qianbei! Long time no see! How have you been recently? I thought about it, and the house should be returned to you. It was originally your house. I'll find another residence. I have a lot of time to live now!"　　

"It doesn't matter, I live here as well," Qi Leren said in a reserved way.　　

The last time when he signed the confidentiality agreement with Du Yue, he’d felt that he was very sorry for the other. How dare he take the house back?　　

Recently, he had had to buy an extra bed. Otherwise Dr. Lu, who was grudgingly made to sleep on the sofa, would have continued to look at him bitterly and even dare to be angry at this “evil guest” who had taken over his nest. 　　

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren, who refused to move back, as if he was wronged. He lowered his head like a big dog who had been reprimanded by his master. Dr. Lu looked at him pitifully and invited him to have dinner with them. Du Yue immediately perked up: "Good, good, I have no place to eat!"　　

So the meal became three people together. If Qi Leren's training ended early, he would come back to cook. If it ended late, Dr. Lu would do it. Dr. Lu's culinary skills were not bad. You could see it from how Du Yue ate three bowls in one go.　　

After dinner, Du Yue rushed to wash the dishes. Qi Leren and Dr. Lu had a brief exchange about today's events.　　

"Du Yue had come several times even before you came back. I'm telling you, he's a personal event trigger! Almost every time, it was a courageous injury. Walking on the road the day before yesterday, he witnessed a robbery. He went up and beat the robber who then stabbed him. Today, he met a pregnant woman who wanted to jump off a building. He saved her but fell off himself. Fortunately, only his arm was broken..." Dr. Lu gushed about Du Yue's glorious deeds, and he was very optimistic about this young man.　　

"Are you talking about me?" Du Yue came out of the kitchen after washing the dishes.　　

"Yes, talking about the series of accidents that you’ve encountered almost daily," Dr. Lu smiled.　　

Du Yue scratched his head and said with a silly smile: "It's okay… It’s not every day."　　

"Does it have to happen every day?" Qi Leren vomited a sentence.　　

"Is the pregnant woman you saved today okay?" Dr. Lu asked smoothly.　　

"Okay? Ah, Her friend persuaded her to go with her after a while and asked for my contact information, saying that she would like to thank me next time," Du Yue said.　　

"If you want an abortion, between the Village of Dusk’s medical facilities plus the monthly tasks, isn’t it only too easy?" Dr. Lu said.　　

"Yes, that's what I told them."　　

A young man who had just grown up and a young man who looked like he was underage talked seriously about the problem of pregnancy and childbirth. This picture was a bit funny. After listening for a while, Qi Leren suddenly remembered the laptop. He quickly got up and said, "You two take your time talking, I’m going to go for a walk."　　

After leaving Dr. Lu's clinic, Qi Leren followed the address that Chen Baiqi had given him before, and went to find the house of the tech savvy player who was still alive.　　

The place where the player lived wasn’t far from Dr. Lu's clinic. Qi Leren was still worried that he still hadn’t come back after leaving for his task. However, this time he was lucky. After ringing the doorbell, a mechanical voice that sounded like a young girl came from behind the door: "Master is busy. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, I was referred by Chen Baiqi. I need to make an electronic appliance please," Qi Leren said.　　

"Just a moment, please."

After a few minutes, the door opened and Qi Leren saw at a glance that the three foot tall robot on the ground looked like a moving trash can. It opened the shoe rack and found a pair of shoe covers for Qi Leren: "Please come with me."　　

It was indeed a high-tech house. Qi Leren sighed with emotion in his heart and followed the little robot all the way to the basement.　　

The basement was very big. After Qi Leren went in, he suddenly saw a screen on the wall facing him!　　

However, it wasn’t like the HD display screens common in the real world, it was like the oldest gray TV screens in an antique shop. There were constantly black and white pixels moving on this display screen, which was actually playing a simple shooting game like a computer in the 1980s!　　

As Qi Leren approached, the man who had his back to him as he watched the screen suddenly lost the game, one hand coming down on the table: "Shit, lost again!"　　

"Hello." Qi Leren made a noise.　　

The man's back froze and he turned slowly. He was a young man with glasses who looked a little dull: "...Oh, hello."　　

Qi Leren felt that he was more nervous than him. His voice was a little shaky and he stuttered a little, obviously the type that didn’t have contact with others often.　　

After Qi Leren stated his purpose, the techy suddenly got excited: "Did you bring your laptop into the game? Sell it to me, I’ll pay a high price!"　　

Qi Leren suddenly broke out in a cold sweat, not to mention that the laptop was still in Schrodinger's state, appearing and disappearing irregularly. Even if the laptop was in his item bar now, he couldn't give it to others. But if he refused this person's request, would he still help him make the charger or transformer? He had to find a suitable reason...　　

Qi Leren secretly gritted his teeth and made a decision.　　

"No, there’s very important information on it. I can't give it to anyone," Qi Leren resolutely said.　　

"I can print the information for you!" the techy said enthusiastically, without stuttering.　　

"This... is not that kind of information." Qi Leren looked embarrassed and his eyes wandered. "It's the kind of... hundreds of G, you know..."　　

The techy’s eyes grew brighter: "Dude! I haven't seen a movie in such a long time! Sell it to me! Lend it to me without selling it!"　　

Qi Leren coughed twice: "To tell you the truth, all I watched were pure men's shootouts..."　　

The techy was stunned for a moment, then resolutely insisted: "It's okay, anti-Japanese drama, gun battle film, American blockbuster, I watched all of these."　　

Qi Leren covered his forehead: "I'm talking about GV, GayVideo, a film made by a group of men, understand!"　　

"................I understand."　　

In order to keep the laptop far away, Qi Leren, who did not hesitate to destroy his image, showed a kind smile: "Do you want to see it? I have quite a few varieties there, from gangbang to S/M to people and animals-"　　

"No, I, I, I, I, I still like girls."　　

"Oh, that's a pity," Qi Leren said regretfully.　　

After he dispelled the techy’s idea of buying the laptop off him, Qi Leren quickly finalized this order with him: to make a mobile power supply that could be externally connected to a laptop, which was equivalent to a large charging battery—"When I go to a copy task without electricity, I also want to watch these films to reduce stress." Quote by a serious Qi Leren.　　

"By the way, make another transformer, because the voltage in the Village of Dusk is different from that in the real world—of course, you should watch movies to relax when you’re in the Village of Dusk." Quote by a still serious Qi Leren.　　

The techy wanted to warn him that "a little joy hurts his body". In particular, he looked at Qi Leren walking a little bit. He looked like he was worn out and exhausted. He was finally defeated by Qi Leren’s kind smile and closed his mouth silently.　　

Out of the techy’s house, Qi Leren gave a long sigh. Today, he once again made himself into a gay man with strange taste. He was still a wretched gay man who watched hardcore porn every day. It seemed that the path to building an upright image only grew longer.

-----

Editor’s Notes: Happy first day of pride month, everyone! 🌈

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[jlalafics]

Could you please reblog your lesbian!Peeta story for me

Sure! I hope this is the one you’re thinking of!

_______

“You can shut off the lights now.”

Delly Cartwright, Peeta’s friend and business manager, looked to her and gave a sympathetic smile.

“You did well for a new business owner, Peeta,” she continued. Gathering some of the go-backs, Delly started to head over to the racks. “You opened a record shop. It wasn’t exactly going to be busy every day, but from a business standpoint, you did well for your first week.”

Peeta gathered her golden locks into a ponytail and took the broom next to her to sweep up.

“I guess you’re right,” Peeta replied.

She had fair sales for her opening week; it had always been her dream to open a shop of her own and her love for vinyl clinched her decision to open a record store. There was hope of expanding to a used bookstore, but it seemed that it would be awhile before that would happen.

“Don’t you have a husband to get home to?” Peeta asked her friend. “Thom must be annoyed that you’re spending all your time with me.”

“Thom wouldn’t have a full-service coffee bar if it weren’t for his wife’s business savvy,” Delly retorted. She pushed herself onto the wood counter. “He can sacrifice time so I can help out one of my best friends.”

“Really though.” Returning the broom to its place, Peeta met her friend’s light eyes. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Suddenly, Delly’s mouth formed into a smirk. “I mean it wouldn’t hurt if you had a partner to support and help you out. I met this great girl at Thom’s bar—”

“You know what—” Peeta lifted her petite friend off the counter easily, placing her by the front door. “—I think you should go home. You’re obviously exhausted.”

“You win this round, Mellark,” Delly declared with a chuckle. “We’ll see you for Sunday brunch at our place.”

Stepping out, Peeta watched her friend get into her car and drive off before walking back into the store.

Sighing, she let herself admit that she was lonely.

It had been two years since her last relationship and about six months since her last date. Her brothers were both in long-term relationships; Dean, her eldest brother, married to Olivia, his college girlfriend, with two kids and one on the way while Rye, the middle child, engaged to Johanna, one of Peeta’s closest friends and her former roommate.

While she, the youngest and only girl, was still single.

Peeta wasn’t looking for just anyone.

Whoever she was had to be more.

So, for the time being, she would just have to focus on getting the store up and running.

++++++

Locking up the store, Peeta buttoned her rust peacoat and headed towards her bus stop. Her place was fifteen minutes away—just a few blocks—but the fall season had caused the city to go dark once it hit six in the evening.

“Hey girl!”

The group of guys from the bar across the street called out. There were a few catcalls and she ignored it, speeding up her pace towards the bus stop at the end of the block. Her heart stuttered in nervousness as she heard the footfalls heading towards her.

Suddenly, one of the guys was standing in front of her. “Where you heading, sweetheart?”

Peeta didn’t reply, only taking in a description of the guy…mid-twenties, dark beard, medium height, sharp dark eyes wearing a grey hoodie, black tank, and dark jeans.

So, basically any random guy.

Dean was a cop and he had always taught her what to do if she was in a situation like this. However, it didn’t seem to be helping as she found herself surrounded by the rest of the group.

So, Peeta went for Rye’s method and fully rushed at the guy in front of her, trying to knee him in the groin.

He pushed her and Peeta was knocked down, the back of her head hitting the concrete.

There was the pain of impact…and then darkness.

++++++

“Miss Mellark…can you open your eyes?” Peeta blinked, her vision blurred and the white light causing her eyes to close again. “Take your time.”

She followed the kind voice, allowing herself to adjust before opening her eyes once more.

“There you go,” the voice said gently. “You gave us a scare when you came in.”

Her vision cleared and the warmest set of eyes greeted her. Almond-shaped and dove grey, the eyes were set in a heart-shaped face along with a pert nose and rose lips, her skin was a soft olive and her raven hair was tied back in a neat braid.

“Where am I?” she asked as the bed was slowly elevated.

“You are in the hospital,” the woman in the blue scrubs informed her. “My name is Katniss and I’m your nurse. You were mugged; the perp got your credit cards but left the rest of your wallet since there wasn’t any money. Can you tell me your name?”

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss looked at her in confusion. “Your ID says Pieta Mellark.”

“When I was born, my parents tried to teach my brother Rye how to say me name properly, Pee-et-ta, but he couldn’t get it and kept pronouncing my name as Pee-ta. So, it kind of stuck.”

The nurse chuckled. “I like both your names.” Katniss looked over her chart and then to her. “We’re just making sure that you’re CT scan comes out clean and then we can release you. Do you have anyone that we can call? Your family?”

“I don’t want to worry my parents and they’re an hour away, and my brothers have families,” she explained. “Once I’m released, I’ll just head on home.”

“Your name fits you,” Katniss remarked. “Pieta means compassion. A lot of people would milk themselves getting injured, but not you. You’re more concerned about everyone else around you.”

“Give me a day or two and I’ll be at home, feeling sorry for myself,” Peeta replied. “Your name is a plant.”

The nurse grinned. “How did you know?”

“When we were all kids, my parents took us camping,” she explained. “And my Dad told me that if for some reason, I got lost in the woods then I just needed to find you to survive.”

Katniss blushed, her cheeks flooding with color, and Peeta found herself breathless in the prettiness of it all.

“I suppose that could also apply to non-camping situations,” Katniss responded. “Get some rest, Peeta, and I’ll check up on your results.”

++++++

“I’m really alright, Haymitch,” Peeta assured her business partner on the phone. “They kept me overnight for observation, but they didn’t see anything in the CT scan.”

“We should install cameras in the front,” the man insisted. “You could’ve been killed or assaulted!”

“Well, they checked if there was any trauma down there and everything seemed right as rain,” she assured him. “My vagina is perfectly intact.”

There was a cough and she turned to see Katniss standing before, a black bomber jacket over her scrubs and her hair down in long waves.

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” the man muttered. “Just call me when you get home, okay? Also, get an Uber and put it on our business credit card.”

“Ah…you should probably call about that,” Peeta replied. “Some of my credit cards are missing.”

“I’m right on it,” Haymitch responded. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll open the store tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Hanging up, Peeta stuffed her phone into her jean pocket before turning to the woman. “Getting off?”

Katniss looked to her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Work. You off from your shift?”

The blush invaded her lovely face and she nodded quickly. “Oh yeah! Just heading out. How about you?”

“Yeah, just needed to check in with Haymitch, my partner,” Peeta explained.

“Oh.” Katniss’ expression dropped. “Why wouldn’t your boyfriend pick you up?”

Peeta snorted at the idea.

“Haymitch is my business partner.” She looked to the woman beside her. “You heading home to your boyfriend?”

The woman shook her head. “I’ve got some leftover pasta and A Walk to Remember on Netflix, but that’s about it.”

“Would you want to join me for a cup of coffee?” Peeta found herself asking. “Thom, my best friend’s husband owns a coffee shop a few blocks down. It will be on me—or on Delly, my best friend—your coffee, I mean…”

Shit, Peeta was going about this all wrong. She didn’t even know if Katniss was into girls.

“Sure.”

Her head snapped up at Katniss’ response and Peeta smiled. “Okay.”

They headed onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital. It was a beautiful morning, chilled but brimming with potential to be a gorgeous day of clear skies and temperate weather.

“How long have you been a nurse?” Peeta asked as they headed down towards Thom’s coffee bar.

“About three years,” Katniss said. “Got this job right out of school. My mom was head nurse at the hospital before retiring a few years ago and I guess nepotism worked in my favor. I might actually be a really crappy nurse.”

“No, you definitely aren’t,” Peeta argued. “You have a natural empathy.”

“How so?”

“When I woke up, I was scared as hell,” she told the woman next to her. They stopped at the crosswalk and Peeta met Katniss’ gaze. “But, when I heard your voice, I knew that I would be okay. You made me feel safe.”

“That’s a lot to put on a girl,” Katniss said quietly. “But I’m glad that I could help.”

Their eyes met and it was like a magnetic force that Peeta found her hand tucking back a tendril of Katniss’ hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered, feeling the softness of her dark waves and Katniss’ breath caught at the gesture.

Her hand covered Peeta’s and the sensation drew a sharp gasp from Peeta’s mouth.

It had been a long time since she had felt like this.

Stepping towards Katniss, she waited to see if the woman would retreat.

However, Katniss remained still, her mouth parted and her eyelids going half-lidded as Peeta close the space between.

The kiss was careful, her mouth slanting over Katniss’ gently. The feeling of her soft lips caused a groan to draw up from the pit of Peeta’s stomach and escape between their mouths.

It was scary but exhilarating all at once and Peeta never wanted to let her go.

However, Katniss hummed against her lips and reluctantly she pulled away.

“I probably wasn’t supposed to do that,” Peeta told her.

Katniss looked disappointed. “Oh, okay.”

“I mean not without taking you out on a date first.”

Katniss let out a relieved laugh. “Well, we just cut out the needless tension of the first kiss, didn’t we?”

“I guess so,” Peeta replied, taking her hand. “So…”

‘…would like to stay indefinitely?’

“Would you like to have coffee first and then dinner later?”

“And, between then?” Katniss asked, her thumb caressing the top of Peeta’s hand.

“Whatever we want, I have all day.”

I have forever for you.

“Okay.” Katniss beamed. “Let’s start with the coffee.”

#anon #repost #lesbian!Everlark #genderswap #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark

[alionne]

5 | Deliberate (free write)

Sequel to Scale, because my brain really didn’t want to stop thinking about this. Spoilers for Stormblood. Cursing and flirting but no smut... yet. 3284 words.

He hears her coming, of course.

Estinien had heard her the first time, too, with the pugilist girl, one of the Scions he hadn’t met. Not that he needed to meet any more of them, mind you. The ones he’d encountered were bad enough.

‘Bad’ may not be the right word, he admits to himself, but he’d already helped them on this little trip, there was no need to start doling out compliments, too. 

If anything, the cannon had been a welcome challenge. He doesn’t miss killing dragons, nor the rage surging through him each time he fought, but… he is the Azure Dragoon. He has power, and though he’d been trying to direct that power in a peaceable direction, lately, it’s pleasing when problems can be solved with his lance alone.

Of course, the problem with power is that there are all too many parties with an interest in how you use it. The cannon was one thing—what was he supposed to do, just let them all get shot to death?—but linger too long and he’d soon be on the receiving end of a tedious speech about duty and the future of Eorzea, and then he’d have to watch Alphinaud’s disappointment when he turned him down. And then probably sit through another lecture, because the boy was stubborn as all hell.

No, Estinien had come to Gyr Abania for one thing—the eyes of Nidhogg, which were his responsibility, and had somehow floated up from below the Steps of Faith and ended up here. Somewhere.

So he was lying low. After dodging the Imperials’ bullets, he’d set for the highest landmark he could find—an ancient ship, whose origins he did not know. It was a passable hideout, particularly since some ancient guardian attacked him as he approached. Estinien had dispatched it easily enough, but it fought with a ferocity that suggested that commoners and soldiers alike would avoid this place.

But of course, not a day later, he’d heard someone climbing the cliff—his cliff, he’d thought, stubbornly. Whoever it was was talking too loudly to be searching for an errant dragoon, though. Tucked away behind the ruined vessel, he’d waited until it seemed they were facing away, then stole a look.

Of course it was her. Who else would turn up on the very rock Estinien was hiding if not the bloody Warrior of Light, accompanied by yet another Scion of the Seventh Dawn? Still, they weren’t looking for him. They’d probably come to inspect the Garlean outpost and figure out why it wasn’t firing at them. If Estinien stayed out of sight, they’d figure it out soon enough and leave him be.

He hadn’t chanced a second look. Alionne was too bloody perceptive, sometimes, and who knew what powers the other girl had. Still, he could hear snippets of their conversation, when the wind was right— or rather, he could hear the one girl’s chatter, and then the occasional pause, when Alionne was presumably nodding in response. 

She’d looked… quite lovely, he thought, mulling over his brief glance as he waited for them to leave. She’d exchanged her heavier Coerthan outfit for something more befitting the desert, and it revealed a great deal more of her form. She’d looked stronger, too, although mayhaps it was simply her outfit, exposing more muscle to admire. Still, even Estinien, who had been avoiding people for moons now, had heard of Doma’s miraculous rebellion. The whole thing reeked of Scion meddling, and where the Scions went, so too went the Warrior of Light, so she’d likely honed her skills on some far eastern magitek.

He’d love to examine her more… thoroughly. Certainly, their last dalliance suggested she’d be amenable, but a few conversations prior to his departure suggested that Aymeric had finally found his balls and was going to ask her out, properly. And while he was fairly sure he’d be welcome in that arrangement, it did mean she could lecture him on both the Scions’ and Ishgard’s behalf, and no potential dalliance was worth that mess.

It’s good to see her, though. Since leaving Ishgard, the only familiar face he’d seen was Hraesvaelgr's, and as… interesting as that encounter had been, there was a comfort in seeing his friends here, even if from a distance. Alphinaud, he’d spotted leaving the rubble of the tower, which was a relief, considering the carnage that had befallen it. And here is Alionne, equally uninjured. He’d done a good day’s work at Castrum Abania.

He hates to leave a job unfinished—that was what had led to him tramping all over Gyr Abania in the first place, unfinished business—so when the Scions finally leave Estinien’s rock, he lingers. No doubt, the imperials will be hard at work repairing their weapon. The Resistance seems savvy enough to press the advantage, but he’d like to see things ended for himself. Besides, if they successfully eliminate the outpost, the Resistance will claim the entire region, and Estinien will be able to leave more easily, dodging only one army, and a much less bloodthirsty one, at that.

So he keeps an eye to the south as he sets up a camp. Movement suggests repairs to the ceruleum pipeline are indeed underway, but the cannon barrel stays put. By mid-afternoon, Estinien is dozing slightly, which is why he’s caught off-guard when there’s suddenly a large hole in the glass window of the castrum’s command room. On instinct, he leaps to his feet, grabbing his lance, before he realizes that whatever’s happened, it’s hardly something he can leap off and address. He sits back down, watching the outpost more closely. 

In the next few minutes, the small dots moving to and from the broken pipeline suddenly cease. They’ve stopped repairing the pipeline, then. Well, that’s as sure a sign as any that the Resistance have done something. Pushed someone out a window, it seems.

No further activity comes from the castrum as night falls, and Estinien slowly relaxes. The cannon is dealt with, so he can resume his search for the Eyes. He doesn’t know how much aether remains in them after such a powerful summoning, but he’s confident he’ll recognize their signature, no matter how faint. He’d sensed nothing from the Resistance camps, so they were probably in the hands of the Garleans—besides, if the Eorzean Alliance had found the Eyes of Nidhogg, Aymeric himself would probably have arrived by now, bloody guilt complex the man carries.

So, East, then, to occupied territory, where the Resistance themselves are no doubt headed. And, assuming he finds the Eyes, perhaps further East, after that. No Eorzean had seen anything like the great dragon summoned over Baelsar’s Wall, but Estinien had found a tome of Far Eastern lore depicting such creatures. With Eorzea’s dragon troubles mostly-sorted, Estinien might be more useful in other parts of the world.

It would be a nice change, too, from this endless desert. Even Coerthas was more than snow, once you got far enough out. This… he’d never begrudge the Ala Mhigans their homeland, but it could do with a bit more color. And Estinien had heard that the hot springs in Kugane rivaled those of Ishgard.

He’s nearly drifted off, imagining it, when a familiar sound brings him to full alertness. The whistle of a rope, tossed over a hold, the scrape of shoes on stone. Someone is climbing his cliff, and a great deal more quietly than the Scions earlier.

Or… not that quietly, he amends, hearing a muttered curse. Not a stealth mission, then. Mayhaps the Resistance had sent a scout. Or a desperate Imperial was climbing to high ground, looking for intel.

Well. He was very good at hiding in the shadows. He would watch them from here. If it was a Resistance member, he’d stay out of sight, and they would never be the wiser. If it was an Imperial… well, they wouldn’t see him, or anything else, for that matter.

Silently, Estinien tucks his few belongings away, glad he hadn’t started a fire—there will be no trace of his presence if he leaps away. He hefts his lance, eyeing the cliff’s edge. The moon was near-full, so whoever it was hadn’t needed a torch. Or they knew the cliff well. Or they were desperate.

Or… a hand grasps the edge of the cliff, and Estinien stares at it a moment, trying to figure out why he recognizes a hand and, Halone’s swiving teats, it’s the Warrior of Light, of course it is, because Alionne is too lucky, or persistent, or something for her own good.

Estinien is frozen in indecision. Is she here for him? The imperials knew their cannon had been destroyed by just one man, and the Resistance likely had spies among them, given the lack of an all-out assault on the castrum. There weren’t many men who could single-handedly cause that much damage, and as much pride as that brings Estinien, the Scions might have guessed his presence. Although that didn’t explain why she knew he’d be here, on this particular rock… it could be another reason. She’d been here before, perhaps she was scouting something. He could jump away, while she wasn’t looking, and she’d never know he was here. He could do it now, in fact…

Which is fair strange, because he’s been staring at her unmoving fingers for far longer than it should have taken for her to climb up over the edge. What is she doing? What kind of person climbs a cliff (my cliff, Estinien thinks mutinously), just to stop, right at the end? Is she hurt? Is she daft?

He’s taken a few steps towards her before he even notices, and that, more than anything, makes the decision for him. He’d been granted a second chance at life, and he’d vowed, upon waking, to make the most of it. For some reason, Alionne Bloody Ralnara is climbing his cliff in the middle of the night. Might as well see why.

In three strides, he’s at the edge, and he reaches down and grabs her—a little rougher than he means to, but maybe it will shake free whatever daydream has left her hanging from a cliff, like an idiot.

“Only a fool would climb a cliffside like this at night,” he grumbles as he pulls her up. 

Irritatingly, his gruffness seems to calm her. “And only a fool would be waiting at the top,” she informs him, and he lets go of her wrist immediately.

They stare at each other, taking in the changes of the last few moons. Alionne eyes his new armor, and Estinien admires how fetchingly her dress sits atop her collarbones. Still, he’s suspicious, and that isn’t helped by the satisfied look she’s giving him.

When she doesn’t speak, he folds his arms. “Well? Out with it, then.” 

Alionne gives him a curious look, and Estinien huffs. He hates this conversation already. She’s far too good at making him do the talking.

“You must have come all this way for something,” he points out. “Come to plead your case for the Resistance, then?”

Her gaze sharpens in disapproval. “No, actually,” she retorts. “I just missed you.”

Estinien’s traitor heart flares up beneath his breastplate, and he has no idea what to do with the feeling. “You climbed up a hundred-yalm cliff—which you shouldn’t have known I was on, mind you—because you missed me.” And now they’re glaring at each other, which doesn’t make any sense, she just got here.

“I saw you, from Castrum Abania,” Alionne informs him coldly. “Or, I thought I did. And I thought I might see if my friend, the one who might have destroyed an entire cannon for us, was still here.”

Ascending cliffs on the chance that friends might be present is not logical behavior, in Estinien’s opinion, but he also doubts arguing the point will get them anywhere. Which is why he hates talking.

“You let me find you,” adds Alionne, “so clearly, you missed me too.” And… gods, how had she read him so easily? He hadn’t realized it himself, until she’d said it, but something in him had warmed just because she was here.

And just like that, she’s won their conversation, and Estinien never had any chance, did he? She could ask him to assassinate Lord Zenos now, and he’d be too outmaneuvered to refuse. 

“How did you become an expert in my emotions?” Estinien grumbles. It’s a concession more than a question, so he’s surprised when she answers him honestly.

"Oh, Aymeric told me,” she says, flashing him a smile, and Estinien is not qualified to interpret whatever feeling thrums in him at that revelation. “Estinien's fast,” she quotes, “so if you catch him, it’s because he’s let you. He said it’s how you show affection.”

It’s maddeningly accurate, and of course Aymeric is the one to have figured that out, he’d chased after Estinien often enough in their youth. But what has Estinien wanting to fling himself off the cliff edge is that he’s never noticed. Self-reflection has never been his strongest suit, but he’d thought he’d improved at it, lately, and yet, here Aymeric is, slicing him open from half a continent away.

“Alionne,” says Estinien, wearily. “Please stop telling me things about myself.”

She drops the subject (and why wouldn’t she, she’s already won) and looks over his shoulder curiously. “Where have you made camp, then? I thought I might join you.”

A suggestive remark sits on Estinien’s tongue, but he’s off-balance, and isn’t sure he wants to make it. “Pick wherever you like,” he sighs, instead. 

And so, he finds himself helping the Warrior of Light set up a much more elaborate camp than he’d planned. He’s not sure when he went from leaning against the ship, arms crossed, to arranging rocks that will protect a small fire from the wind. “If there are any imperials left, we’ll draw them straight to us,” he complains. 

Alionne raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to point out how ridiculous he sounds, and he scowls. Just because he’s lost doesn’t mean he has to lose gracefully.

“Have you had the chance to sample any of the local fare?” Alionne asks, ignoring his complaint. She pulls a tin from her bags, and sets it atop the fire to warm. “The bread is a little tough, but the stews are hearty, and the Resistance cooks seem to find ample herbs to spice them with, no matter where we camp.”

“I have not.” Where is she heading with this?

“Well, I have enough for two,” she says, smiling, and just like that, he’s out of patience for playing house, or whatever they’re doing.

“Alionne,” he bites out. “Why are you here.”

Her eyes search his face, more calculating than angry, and then she fixes him with a serious look. “I told you. I missed you, and I thought you might be here. So I came to see.”

Which doesn’t answer the real question in the slightest. “And now that you’ve seen me.”

“Now, I’d like to see what you think of this stew. And if you like, I can tell you about my time in Doma. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to thank you for destroying that cannon, because you saved a great many lives.”

She’s open, and honest, and there’s no way it can be that simple. “Do you have. Questions.”

She seems to genuinely consider it before shaking her head. “You seem to be dreading anything I could ask, so, no. I will hear anything you wish to share, but I will not ask anything of you.”

He catches her phrasing. Not, I will not ask you anything, but, I will not ask anything of you. No expectations. No requests, from well-intentioned Scions or Resistance leaders or… Aymerics. The tension drains from him, and he is only slightly annoyed at how quickly he’s trusted her.

Not that he hadn’t before. But before, he’d trusted her to watch his back, and to not make things too awkward if they ever had a falling-out. Now, he knows she won’t push, where it’s not welcome. That she’ll respect his choices, whatever they may be.

Shite, he trusts her with his heart, as awkward and starry-eyed as that sounds. He’ll be mooning over her, next. Or mayhaps he already is, since he’s been silent for far too long, now, and Alionne’s still looking at him intently, as though the longer she stares, the more he’ll believe her declaration of good faith.

“...Thank you,” he manages, stumbling only slightly, and her gentle smile warms him all the way through. And mayhaps this conversation was never one to be won, or lost.

Well, if that’s the case, he’s been an unsociable bastard. Estinien stares at the fire until he feels capable of stringing sentences together and being... well, not charming, but maybe— civil. “In light of your promise, this request is markedly unfair, but may I ask you questions?”

Alionne, who has been politely giving him space, suddenly beams. “I would be delighted.”

“In that case,” says Estinien, allowing himself to smirk at her. “Would you share your stew with me, then, and tell me of your time in Doma?”

The stew is remarkably flavorful, and tender, compared to the dried foodstuffs and hastily-roasted meats he’s been eating, lately. Though it is no doubt enhanced by the company, as Alionne tells him of pirates and shinobi, of underwater villages and nomadic warrior tribes. She keeps the tale light, even though Estinien knows it must have been far more difficult for the Scions than she lets on. He’s thankful—he doesn’t think he has the stomach for serious conversation, not unless she’s brought some spirits to accompany the stew. Besides, because it’s not important that he focus on the details, he can admire the way Alionne’s eyes flicker in the firelight.

Eventually, they’ve eaten their fill, and a comfortable silence stretches between them. When Estinien thinks of what he’d expected to do this night (very little), a deep thrum of satisfaction curls in his belly, powerful enough to take him by surprise. Until these last few moons, Estinien has never been indulgent, too focused on vengeance and discipline. His recent ventures have been instructive, and this night most of all.

“May I ask another question?” he asks her.

“If I haven’t been clear enough,” says Alionne, playfully exasperated, “you may ask me anything you like, Estinien, and I will do my best to answer it.”

For a moment, Estinien considers asking something embarrassing, but he quickly discards the impulse. There’s only one question he really wants to ask, anyway. 

He gestures to their campground. “Did you come here just to talk?”

Alionne sends him another calculating look. Estinien returns it, confidently. He’d made his choice when he’d grabbed her wrist. “That depends on whether there’s more on offer,” she says, eventually, and Estinien can feel the space between them narrowing.

Wait. First things first. He leans backward, not breaking the mood, but prolonging it. “Have you and Aymeric talked, yet?”

Alionne’s gaze goes distant, and softer, which answers Estinien’s question before she speaks. “We’ve talked a great deal, yes. As you suspect, some of it was about you. Neither of us is promised to the other exclusively, if that is your meaning.” 

Something about her tone suggests that Aymeric and Alionne have been uncomfortably forthright about their feelings, in a way that Estinien can’t consider right now without bolting, but luckily, Alionne’s body language suggests she won’t mind cutting the conversation short.

Good. He may be a poor conversationalist, but Estinien is confident he will have the upper hand in this.

#*shrugs and goes straight for that ot3 content* #aymeric's not even here but he's in my brain alright #overuse of italics #there's like a 50-50 chance I write a smutty sequel eventually #and like a 99% chance I start fleshing out this timeline with HW-era stuff #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ali writes #Estinien x WoL #aymeric x estinien x wol

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Love Not Yet Known Part 1

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Requested by @freaknik97

Part 2 will be posted here and on my masterlist

            “Remind me why we’re not doing this at the office?” Arthur grumbled as they watched the car pull up the gravel drive.

            Tommy stood beside his brother in the doorway of Arrow House. His hands were clasped in front of him. “The Italians are here and they’re going to look for allies or enemies. They might see Alfie as a way to weaken us. We need to make sure there’s no chance of that. We can’t have him making side deals like he did last time with the Russians.”

            “Still doesn’t explain why he’s here. This could’ve been done in Birmingham.” Arthur muttered, still not a big fan of Alfie.

            “You’ll find out soon enough, brother. Now let’s greet our guest.”

             At the same time, Eliza Shelby was in the garden with her nephew. They had laid out a blanket and she was reading The Wind in the Willows to him. Although, the little boy wasn’t really paying much attention to his aunt. He was more focused on his toy horses, making them jump little obstacles he constructed out of a pencil from Eliza’s bag and rocks from the lawn.

            Eliza didn’t mind too much. She was a quiet young woman, the polar opposite of John Shelby, her twin. As rowdy as her brothers were, she was eager to please her parents and wanted to show them how grown up she was. She found solace in books and used them to escape the unstable life of Small Heath. As she grew, her concern shifted to bettering herself rather than trying to please her family. After all, they didn’t see much merit in education. She wanted to lift herself out of the poverty she grew up in and the stigma surrounding her family. But she learned that the last name Shelby was nearly impossible to shake off. As Tommy wreaked havoc, she dealt with the consequences.   

            Besides, her heart would always be with her family, so she couldn’t exactly abandon them.

            Charlie set his toy horse aside and flipped onto his back to look up at the sunny sky.

            Eliza paused her reading to smile at him. “Can you see anything in the clouds?” She asked.

            “I was looking for mummy. Daddy says that’s where she is.” The little boy pointed up at the sky. “In heaven. Says it’s above the clouds.”

            Her smile faded sadly. “Oh, yes. That’s where she is. She’s always looking down on you to watch after you and keep you safe.” She said gently.

            “Yeah, that’s what Pol says too. Says she’s an angel.”

            Eliza wasn’t sure what else to say. It was difficult talking about Grace to Charlie because he was too young to understand what happened. Eliza treasured her nieces and nephews, treating them as if they were her own children. Of course, in her mid-twenties, it was assumed that she would already have children. All of her siblings, aside from Finn, had children. John had a litter of them. But now they were gone. Left with Esme after John passed.

            She felt her heart sink. It was what made her so wary of relationships. She had known so much loss even at an early age. When she lost John, her twin brother, it felt like a piece of her died. It wasn’t meant to happen like that. They were supposed to grow up together, watch each other’s children, have each other over for holidays, and have the age-old argument about who was really the oldest. Now he was gone and Eliza felt so lonely.

            If she were to find someone and marry, have children too, what if something happened to them? What if she lost her husband or a child? It was possible. Ada and Tommy had both lost their spouses. She saw the hurt in their eyes every single day. Perhaps it was wise just to stay single.

            But unfortunately, her brother had other plans for her.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            “Y’know, Tommy, when I heard you bought this place I thought it was a bit out of character for you, right? Tommy Shelby tryna act like an aristocrat? Pft. But looking ‘round here it suits you, don’t it? Cold, empty, dead inside. Just like you, ain’t it?”

            Tommy looked mildly amused at Alfie’s ramblings as they walked into the study. “It’s nice to see you as well, Alfie.”

            “Yeah, well. Thought you’d forgotten ‘bout me.” Alfie turned his attention to the eldest Shelby brother. “’N you, mate. Arthur, I’m so pleased you’re still willing to speak with me.” The graciousness in his voice was obviously just a ploy to rile the man up. It was like a game to him. See what shade of purple he could make Arthur Shelby’s face turn.     

            Arthur just grumbled an incoherent response.

            “You’ve been very forgiving, lately haven’t you? Your whole family has. Think if I ever had a noose tied ‘round me neck and I walked free, well I’d kill the man who put me there in the first place.” Alfie shrugged as if it were nothing more than a casual thought and not a deep cut into the Shelby’s current tension. “But that’s just me, innit?”

            “Alfie, we’re here to discuss a proposition for you,” Tommy said. “

            “That right? Well, I suspect you’re gonna offer me something nice, Tommy, seeing as what a pain in the arse it was driving out here.” Alfie replied. “Sitting in the car that long really does a number on me hip so don’t waste me time.”

            “I know you’re aware of the situation we’re in and I’m sure you’ve already thought of what you’re going to do should you be involved.” Tommy started.

            “S’always good to have a plan for everything, just being savvy,” Alfie replied as he sat down with a grunt. 

            “Seeing as our business relationship has been rocky due to some betrayals…”

            “Aw, now, Tommy don’t say it like that. Little missteps, that’s all they were. Forgiveness, right.” He glanced over at Arthur who looked grumpy with his arms crossed over his chest.

            “I’d like to extend an offering to you that would secure our relationship. Prevent further missteps.” Tommy knew that he had to speak in a way that aligned with Alfie. That way, he would be more inclined to accept the offer.

            “I’m listening, mate.”

            “My sister, John’s twin, has never married. I’d like to offer her hand to you.”

            It was like setting off a grenade in the room. “What!?” Arthur roared. “Tommy, you can’t fucking do that!”

            “Easy, brother,” Tommy replied in a calm voice. “I’ve made up my mind.”

            “Made up-are you joking me? She’s not some pony you can pawn off to someone! Especially not this fucking monster!”

            Alfie appeared thrown off guard. Certainly, he had expected Tommy to offer him something nice to assure there would be no ill will between them. Alfie was prepared to accept whatever it was, not that it would really change his mind about what he might or might not do regarding the Italians. But the offer of marriage was completely out of left field and rendered him a bit speechless.

            Tommy continued to take the rage from his brother, waiting for a pause. When Arthur stormed out of the room to go get Polly, Tommy cleared his throat. “Well?”

            Alfie raised his brow. “Now, mate, I dunno if you’re still suffering from that brain injury of yours or you’ve really lost the plot. But, why on Earth would you think I’d be willing to marry one of your kin? A woman with hot blood like that?” He pointed to the door where Arthur had just left from. “Fucking hell, it’d be like tryna tame a feral wolf.”

            “She’s me sister, Alfie, not a dog.”

            “Then why’re you giving her over to me like she’s yours to give, mate?” Alfie confronted.

            “Come with me.” Tommy stood up and led Alfie out of the study. The man followed him to the solarium that had a good view of the back garden. “There she is.”

            Alfie stepped up to the glass to see a dark-haired beauty sitting amongst the flowers. She had pale green eyes that sparkled in the summer sun and when she smiled at Charlie, Alfie noticed his heart skipped a beat.

            When was the last time the sight of a woman had made him weak in the knees? When he was just a kid? Maybe as a young soldier trying to get a pretty nurse’s attention. As sinful of a man as he was, he was still a man. A man who craved companionship, someone to be there for him when he got older. As it stood, he would end up alone when his life began to wind down to the last days. He thought he deserved such a fate. It was fitting.

            But seeing Eliza in the garden was like opening up a new door of possibilities. One where Alfie didn’t end up alone. Where he had a wife and children always there for him.

            He frowned and turned away, thinking he was crazy for ever having the thought. “You’re desperate enough to give over your sister to a man like me?”

            Tommy didn’t like to admit defeat. “I’m doing it for the benefit of both of us and for my family.”

            “Fucking hell.” He laughed bitterly. “You really are that desperate. Those Italians have you spooked, then, aye? Think you’ll regret this decision in a couple of years?”

            “I have faith you’ll treat her right.”

            He scoffed. “Really?”

            Tommy nodded. “In the bakery, you told me men to stay away from the women in Camden. You put on a good act, Mr. Solomons, but I know you would never harm a woman.

            Alfie wasn’t going to disagree with him, because it was true. He would never do harm to a woman. But he didn’t want to appear weak. So, he tried to give himself an out. “That’s all fine and good, but she ain’t Jewish. So I can’t marry her.”

            Tommy was about to remedy the point when he heard quick footsteps chasing him down.

            “Thomas Shelby have you lost your mind!?” Polly smacked him when she got close enough. “That girl is innocent, you fucking keep her out of this!”

                       Eliza could hear shouting from inside so she looked up to see her family was in the solarium along with an unfamiliar man. Her aunt was shouting at her brother but Eliza couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. “Charlie, why don’t we go find Mary so she can take you for a walk?” She stood up to take her nephew’s hand.

                       “How dare you even think of something like this? You can’t just sell her off. I will not allow this; do you hear me?”

            Polly continued to yell at Tommy until he noticed Eliza enter the room with a confused look on her face.

            “What’s going on?” The young woman asked.

            Polly turned. “Go back outside.”

            “Why? What-what’s wrong?” After John’s death, Eliza was very timid and worried about what might happen to her family next.

            “Eliza, come here.” Tommy beckoned her.

            “Thomas, no, that’s enough!” Polly grabbed her niece by the arms and kept her away from Tommy and Alfie.

            “Pol, you’re scaring me. I don’t get what’s going on.”

            “Liza, this is Alfie Solomons.” Tommy continued as if everything was calm and no one was flying off the handle. “We’ve been talking about a potential arrangement.”

            “Tommy…” Polly said in a warning tone.

            “Arrangement for what?” Eliza was still puzzled.

             “He’s going to marry you off like some gypsy bride!” Arthur snapped.

            Her eyes widened. “Tom? Is that true?”

            Tommy sighed and removed his glasses so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. “Could I have a moment with her alone?” He requested. “Alfie, feel free to walk the grounds, you two,” He pointed his glasses at Polly and Arthur. “Go to the big room.”

            Arthur wasn’t prepared to let Tommy talk their sister into marrying Alfie, but Polly steered him towards the study.

            Eliza was frozen in place with shock, but her eyes moved to the stranger by the glass. Alfie met her eyes for a moment. She took in his appearance. Although much more rugged than she was used to, he had a certain charm to him. There was a mystery about him as well. Eliza was suddenly very curious as she was when it came to characters in the books she read. She wanted to know everything about them. Unravel them to see what made them tick. She wanted to know where the scar on his right cheek came from. Or why he covered it with a beard. She wanted to know why he wore so many rings on his fingers. She wanted to understand the hesitation in his teal colored eyes when he looked at her.

            But that didn’t mean she wanted to marry him.

            When they were alone, Tommy pulled up a chair for his sister. He took a moment to breathe and light up a cigarette.

            Eliza allowed him some space to think. She quietly waited, her eyes continuing to flick to the glass, watching as Alfie walked through the garden. He seemed as if he was trying to appear busy. But his movements showed that his brain was elsewhere. She couldn’t blame him.

            “We’ll be returning to Birmingham tomorrow. I need to have a secure area for the family. But I want you to go to London with Alfie.” He explained steadily.

            Eliza’s stomach was in knots. “I want to stay with everyone else.”

            “Alfie is a wild card, Liza. Either he helps us with the Italians or he hurts us. There’s no staying neutral. I need to make sure that he’s on our side.”

            “So, if he’s married into the family, he won’t betray the family.” It was easy to follow Tommy’s logic. He had done the same thing to her twin. How fitting it was to face the same fate John did. Still, he ended up married to a woman he loved. Maybe it was destiny or simply a coincidence. Eliza just wasn’t sure she wanted to run the same risk.

            “Right.”

            “But even when this is finished, I’ll still be married to him.” She pointed out.

            Her brother didn’t look angry or pleased with himself. His wrinkled forehead showed the conflict he was facing internally. Of course, he didn’t want Eliza to marry Alfie. Every brotherly instinct told him to keep the young woman far away from the gangster. But he needed the threat wiped out. It would just be one less thing to worry about. “There are sacrifices we all need to make. Every single one of us.”

            Eliza swallowed and felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I don’t even know him.”

            Tommy steeled himself. They needed to go through with this. He couldn’t back out. “It’ll be alright.” He promised her gently. “I just…I don’t what else I can do to keep him loyal to us.”

            She wiped her eyes with the edge of her sweater sleeve. “I don’t want to lose anyone else.” She sniffled. “So, I’ll do whatever I can to keep everyone safe.”

To be continued, part 2 will be up soon. 

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[lizacstuff]

i'd love (if you'd like ofc) to hear your thoughts on episode 20 as a whole! i personally really really enjoyed it.. it had some very good moments not only between edser but between serkan and his dad and selin. and of course were serving that angsty, but flirty, UST that we all love! it felt like a weight was lifted off serkan and he just became even more open with her, if that makes sense? what he says to her about leaving in the latest fragman kinda shows that too.

Are you sure you want my full thoughts? Because I'm about to get long winded, like novel long winded, lol. To start off, on a superficial note, can I say that casually dressed, brooding Serkan was pretty hot? Hello, Sailor! Can we see you in pullovers and hoodies and T-shirts more often? But just happier? He was soooo sad in the opening scenes, and honestly, when you think about it, it's pretty dark that he was so messed up that he didn't leave the house or attend to any business matters for those couple of days. Very unlike him, but he's probably never been at this depth of despair before. Now, since pretty much everyone knows he wasn't leaving the house while Eda was gone, I hope someone (cough Melo cough) tells Eda, she should know that. On a similar note, Eda's friendship with the girls is so lovely. They're indeed her family. Interesting juxtaposition that she took refuge with her friends, while Serkan holed up and stayed away from everyone who cares about him. 

I agree that once we got past the dark brooding and he had the talk with his mom about how if Eda was punishing him there was still hope, he was a lot lighter. I think finally being out from under the secret did him a world of good. He can finally stop pretending to be indifferent and can just be honest about how he feels.  What the “Gitme” line in the fragman tells me, is that he’s ready to put it all out there. He’s not going to risk miscommunications or hurt feelings anymore. Which is amazing and should lead to great things in the next couple of episodes.

More under the cut (a lot more):

I absolutely agree about the scenes between Serkan and his dad and Serkan and Selin. The writing was really terrific and Kerem just knocked both of those scenes out of the park. Serkan's suppressed fury was palpable, and it was extremely cathartic to finally watch him let loose on both of them. The scene with his father went deeper in the family trauma and it was so interesting to hear Serkan say outright to both of them that the reason he moved onto the property was because Aydan couldn't leave and his dad was never there, and was never there for him as a father at all. Which we saw from the beginning when Alpteken was actually at the house but refused to attend his son's engagement party. Regardless of the fact that Serkan sprung Eda on them, not walking 50 feet to make an appearance at your son's engagement party is an asshole move. I wonder how long he's been cheating on Aydan? Years? It's interesting how she foreshadowed that revelation to Ayfer, like she knew.

Also I can't believe he was just cavorting around a luxury hotel in Istanbul. The whole Bolat family are obviously figures in the upscale social scene, anyone who knew Aydan or Serkan could have easily spotted him with that woman and gleefully spread the gossip back. Did he want to get caught? Jerkoff.

As for Selin, we been waitin' for that explosion since she sold her shares without telling Serkan!  I like that Serkan was kind to her after Ferit left her at the altar, it spoke to him taking responsibility for the part he played in trying to manipulate her out of that relationship. However, she took advantage of the new, kinder Serkan (the one that exists courtesy of Eda) and went way too far into unstable territory. I, and many other people, were so confused about why Selin was so angry about uncovering the truth of the accident, like what right did she have to be that angry over it, to stomp over to his house, barge in uninvited and accuse him of being a liar at top decibel levels? Thank goodness the writing acknowledged that it was not her place, and that was the thing that enraged Serkan. They actually allowed him to say, "How dare you come to my house, and I don't owe you any explanations." Also, I'm glad he laid out his feelings for Eda, and his lack of feelings for her. Look... that is rough. Hearing from an ex that they never loved you.  But how she could have been in any doubt, after seeing the changes in him since Eda is beyond my comprehension. She even said early on, It's like there's two Serkans, the one before you met Eda, and the one after. For whatever reason it's like she thought Eda could come in and affect him, and then she could step in and get the Serkan who was in love with Eda, not the rigid, cold one who was in a relationship of convenience with her.  DELUSIONAL.

There was so much more about this episode I loved. It was nice to see Ayfer blossoming in her new business and getting a glimpse of Fifi's past. She comes from a society family, does she? I liked that Ferit helped them. I do agree that impressing Ceren was probably on his mind, but I like to think he's also just a nice man and he likes Ayfer and wanted to genuinely help as well. Interesting that we found out that Ferit's mom never liked Selin. Curious since you'd think she'd look great on paper, perhaps it was because of the speed at which they were moving, and I think she also stood them up, right? That made me like Ferit's mom a bit more than I otherwise would have. 

Aydan was in her element getting back to her charity work, I loved the way she plotted to put her name forward for the leadership position. She's just so savvy. That's why I'm glad she's now TeamEda!  Imagine what a formidable duo Eda and Adyan will make in this world, we saw a glimpse of it last week, but they'll be unstoppable! 

The contract was a neat device. I really appreciate how it was used. One of the things that Eda feels like she can't trust is the way Serkan has tried to control her. As I've said before, I think he's really trying to control the situation. And while that doesn't really make a difference to Eda in this instance, it does make a difference to me as a viewer. If he were being controlling in the sense of trying to dictate what she says or who she is, that would be upsetting. But that's not it, he really loves her for who she is already and he's not trying to change that, he's just, as I said, trying to control the situation. We know that he likes to think everything through and always has a plan and in this instance he was just trying to protect her, but she's right that he can't do that in a relationship. Proving to her that he can cede control is important and that's exactly what the contract did. We saw him do it willingly and blindly and it was actually really beautiful. Obviously, the Serkan apology to Erdem was hilarious, but more than how much I enjoyed how funny it was, I enjoyed how delighted Eda was by it. She loved every minute of it and it was so nice to see her relax a minute and genuinely laugh both at and with Serkan. Additionally, I think she was pretty surprised that he'd followed through with it. Lots of layers to that scene.  

The charity meeting he engineered was also pretty fun to watch. I loved how he calls Engin in to join them with no prep and then just expects Engin to reel off a bunch of good ideas for the girls education initiative. Good times. And Leyla rushing in to let him know that Melo had quit was hilarious, I love that Serkan was like "the whole situation is right here" meaning that Eda was in the room so whatever Leyla had to tell him could not possibly be important. Only Eda is important! LOL. Then Serkan doesn't even think before looping Engin in to go immediately hire Melo. You know what I hope this means!? That my crackship Mengin might actually sail!!!!  LET'S DO THIS MENGIN!!!!  Oh... I know, the show seems really committed to the mismatched duo of Engin/Peril, but I really think Engin and Melo are better suited to one another. And now maybe they'll get scenes together. Piril can dump him for being too... him, and Melo can help him pick up the pieces. They would be Serkan and Eda's big-hearted, teddybear couple friends!  

Watching Eda blossom creatively and professionally while working with Serkan has been a joy. She doesn't stand in awe of him at all as a person, but she does a little professionally, and it's wonderful to see how no matter how angry she is with him or where they are in their relationship she always craves his feedback, takes in his critiques and suggestions, and basks in his praise. While she didn't want his help with her schoolwork, I can't help but wonder if he ever comes up at school. I mean she's in the tabloids with him, and since he's extremely relevant to the field of study, and specifically to that school since he built the library, do her classmates ask her about him? Or does she mention something she did or learned working at ArtLife while in class? Inquiring minds want to know.

As for Eda's resolve to keep things professional, that pretty much was DOA. She definitely challenged him to break the contract there in that room, and I think she actually wanted him to do it, though I’m not sure how she would have reacted. she wants him, but she wasn’t there yet. She knows resistance is futile, deep down she recognizes her own feelings and his and knows they'll never stay away from one another and it's only a matter-of-time, but I think she needs this. She needs for him to understand what it means to be in a relationship, she needs him to know that he can't make decisions without her, and she needs to be sure he's ready to be a partner. Thankfully, he made a lot of headway in demonstrating all of those things in this episode. He signed without reading, he was willing to do anything and everything she asked, and while he's still him (asking Leyla for intel) he respected her wishes while still being there for her in a real way throughout the episode.  

Poor Eda fainting, but it's really romantic that he's always there to catch her. I assume this narcolepsy or whatever it is, like her claustrophobia, is related to the trauma around the retaining wall collapse and her parents' death. It was sweet the way he convinced her to let him be there when she met the contractor, and then during the confrontation he didn't intervene, he let Eda say what she needed to say and was there to move the guy along when it was time. He was pretty much perfect. I know we all NEEDED him to hug her, both Eda and Serkan NEEDED it as well, but she wasn't ready to ask for him yet and he was smart enough not to push it. But the loooooooooonging. 

It's a small detail that she asked him to deal with the paps and he went home and set about doing just that. Hopefully whatever he was doing will lead to the revelation that Selin is the one who planted the story in the first place. I need that, we all need that. And just when you think it's too late at night, he does their "thing" and shows up at her place with Sirius. So dang sweet. I like that he was respecting her pretense about colleagues while at the same time just outright saying, "I'm worried about you. Are you okay?"

The next day's car ride left me in a puddle. Serkan just out there telling her that he would do anything for her. But he didn't push it on her, he waited until she asked. He did a great job of pacing himself through the episode. I find it so romantic that she told him that he couldn't watch her speech. If they were together and settled and happy, I'd think she'd want him front row, center, but in their current state he just affects her too much. She'd be focused on him, worried about what he thought, distracted by him, he just sends her mind whiring and her pulse racing.

Though, it's pretty telling and super sweet that the first thing she wants to know when he approaches her afterward is what he thought of the speech. Oh, Eda, you're not fooling anyone. His opinion is most important to you, pretty much in all things. This scene gives us something that rarely happens, Engin being tone deaf and not reading the room!! WTF was wrong with him? Interrupting like that? Dude knows that Serkan is in a situation here, you don't interrupt for really no reason like that! Get your head in the game, son! Your his wingman, you help, not hinder!

The way Eda blushed and looked pleased every time he complimented her this episode was something else. She's trying to keep emotional distance, and he's breaking the rules when he does it, but still it makes her day. She's never portrayed as a vain character, at all, so it's just so sweet how his words and his compliments affect her. No one else can make her feel like that. 

Serkan was pretty sly in making his case as well. He gets her a bit mushy telling her she lights up the room and then brings up her speech and how it might apply to him. He was right in that she probably hasn't considered things from his perspective. How devastating it must have been for him to learn the truth. I want her to go back and piece together the timeline. She knew something wasn't right with him at the mall when she gave him the robot. Maybe it will help her deal with this if she realizes he had just learned the secret. She knew there was more to the story with the cut on his hand. Knowing he was so upset he put his hand through a coffee table might give her some perspective on his state of mind and why he acted the way he did.  But mostly I want him to tell her he overheard her conversation with Ceren. I think it's important for them both to confront how things unraveled if only to help prevent future miscommunications. 

Poor Eda having a good time using her powers of persuasion to tease Serkan into helping his mother only to find out that she had convinced him to auction himself off for a dinner date! I enjoyed her momentary discomfort at that. Welcome back, jealousy. Strictly work colleagues do not get jealous when one goes out to dinner with someone else, just saying, Eda.  And that smooth bastard bid on himself so he could go out with her only. We should have known! 

The conversation prior to the runway show was priceless, Eda's animosity and reserve sort of disappear and she's just unsure enough of what she's about to do that his reassurances are exactly what she needs.  And how Kerem Bursin can blush on demand, I don't know, but Serkan be red during that conversation, lol. 

I really loved all of Serkan's reactions as the ladies walked the runway. For Selin he was stone-faced and bored looking, for Fifi he gave a sly smirk as she passed as an acknowledgement of how different, and nice, she looked all cleaned up, Melo got the huge grin, we didn't really see Ceren since the camera was stuck on Ferit, but for Piril he gave her the fond, encouraging smile like he was proud of his friend. And then Eda. I don't even know what word to use for it. Enraptured? Dumsquizzled? Fuckstruck? Yes, let's go with fuckstruck. I'm not sure he remembered to breathe while she was walking, he was so affected by her.  This boy has it bad for this girl, ya'll. 

After that, the end was a punch in the gut. Our poor babies have been through so much, they really deserved to have that nice dinner.  Damn you, Selin! Obviously this was a delaying tactic, because once they sat down to dinner, you know they would have worked it out, so we wait. But the reconciliation is coming, don't you worry. I'm feeling it within the next 2 episodes for sure. 

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #sck 1x20 #edser discussion #sck episode discussion #sckask #asklizac #anonymous #serkan bolat #eda yildiz

[notespeed]

How to Invest Profitably Tax Free

Can you really use the special COVID rule to invest right now with your IRA, tax-free?

This question will be answered in this episode of Noteschool with Eddie Speed, Brian Lauchner, and Joe Varnadore, with their special guest, Kevin Stokes. 

Kevin is an Apache pilot for Idaho Air National Guard. Joe and Eddie met Kevin and his wife Susan almost two years ago in a three-day class of Noteschool. 

According to Joe, Kevin and his wife are what they call in Noteschool a “ninja” meaning they are buying or flipping a lot of houses.

For Kevin, at first, their goal is Buy and Hold properties. This is what they have learned but then he realized that he did not like the business of buy and hold. For this reason, he looked for a better way and this is why he landed at Noteschool.

Ever since Kevin and his wife met Eddie in Noteschool they started learning and analyzing notes because they are interested in investing. For so long they are trying to move out of the buy and hold mentality.

Learning and usings notes have become Kevin’s way of leveling up and thinking bigger. And now they have a business in nine states.

Kevin took advantage of a program that started as part of the “Cares Act Distribution” that was launched last March 2020 by using his IRA.

If you are interested in learning how Kevin was able to invest in notes by taking a chance in using this program continue watching this video.

Take advantage of a Special Covid Rule – “Cares Act Distribution”  that allowed one of our students to take a $153,000 Distribution from a Corporate 401K.

Landlords are burning out. Tenants are behind on rent payments. Toilets are backing up.

Uncover Why Savvy Investors Use Proven Mortgage Note Strategies for Massive Monthly Profits In Today’s Ever-Changing Market… Risk-Free!

Discover more about Note School and profiting without Tenants, Toilets and by taking our FREE one day class:

https://new.noteschool.com/TV

Latest Class Information:

https://noteschool.com/3-day-classes/...

Download a Brand-New eBook by Eddie Speed It’s A Whole New Ball Game With Creative Financing

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---------------------------------------------------------------

Brian Lauchner (00:01):

Can you really use the special COVID rules to invest right now with your IRA tax free, stay tuned.

Brian Lauchner (00:19):

Alright. Well, welcome back to NoteSchool TV, I'm Brian Lauchner and I'm a part of the GC team here. And I'm exited to be the one to bring you back in for the rest of the week and we kind of dive back into NoteSchool TV, if you are new to these videos and you get a lot of value out of it man, we would really love it if you would just like the videos as we produce them and definitely subscribe to the channel so that you're getting kind of, some of the content as it's coming out. And if you really want the most timely information, make sure you are like, clicking that notification bell so that you're getting notified when we go live. So you can jump on YouTube and engage with us with your questions. Bring some questions to the table. Today, we've got some interesting information about notes, but if you are newer to notes or you're newer to NoteSchool and you're just wanting to learn a little bit more, go to www.NoteSchool.com/TV, And you can learn a whole lot more about kind of what we do and how you can get engaged. But for day today, let's start by jumping into the news.

Brian Lauchner (01:18):

Alright, Mr. Joe Varnadore, take it away.

Joe Varnadore (01:38):

Good morning, everyone. Good morning, Brian. And we do have some breaking news this morning, hot off the presses yesterday. So starts off with we basically, as we wrap up this interesting year, right, we have three trains wedding or speeding towards the distress loan intersection, forbearance request, or up since the first week of December unemployment numbers are stagnating and increasing, and then the Cares Act expires in a couple of weeks. So with that, we have a few more, a couple of more items. One is reported by bank reg data, which says that aggregate the NPO Volume Non-Performing on Volume is up to $127.55 billion, which is basically $32 billion higher than the end of 2019. So, also this year Brian, which is just crazy, is that the four largest banks, and this is just the four largest banks reporting, which is Bank of America, JP Morgan Chase, Citibank and Wells Fargo have increased their loan loss reserves from 5.2 billion, the end of 2019 to almost $33 billion today.

Brian Lauchner (03:12):

Let me just clarify for people who don't understand what Loan Loss Reserves are, Joe, help me say this. This is literally their reaction to the market to protect themselves, right?

Joe Varnadore (03:23):

Right. So they have, so banks have a, they have a performing kind of portfolio. They have a Non-Performing Portfolio and they have to keep a certain percentage of those funds in a reserve account against a battle out non-performing loans. The, and the crazy part of that, Brian, is that as these banks hold that money there, they can't do anything with that. So they lose all of that leveraging effect. It's basically, we talk about dry cash at NoteSchool. This is dry cash for banks, so they are holding that and it is, it is just, it's kind of all coming together. And last week I did report that the moratorium on foreclosures and so on, did extend out to January 31st of 2021. So let's bring Eddie on real quick to kind of get his take on that. And then we're going to move on with our special guest today, Mr. Kevin Stokes, Hey, Eddie.

Eddie Speed (04:24):

Well, there's nothing going on in the market, right?

Joe Varnadore (04:29):

Absolutely nothing.

Eddie Speed (04:30):

Yeah. you know, guys, we are keeping our ear to the ground hard. I will tell you that. I just spoke to a group of high volume real estate investors last week. All guys that are what I call the Ninjas, the hundred house a year plus guys. And and I basically did a little waterfall, Joe, of some of these market details and some of the ones that you've been covering over the last few weeks. And what I find interesting is, is they didn't know this information and it's helping them form their decisions about how to progress the business. People say, Eddie, why are you so optimistic about the next five years in the business? It is because all of these variables just keep stacking up and those variables are going to produce some terrific opportunities. If we know how to take advantage of the opportunities, when those banks, when those banks gather up loan loss, reserve money, that means they can sell loans at a discount. That's essentially what it means.

Joe Varnadore (05:33):

Yeah. And you know, Eddie, we are going to be on top. We got a lot of experience in non-performing loan from the great recession as it flowed forward. And I can tell you that we are going to be on top of this as it continues to unfold in the first quarter of 2021,

Eddie Speed (05:52):

That's it we'll keep watching it. We'll keep telling you.

Joe Varnadore (05:55):

So stay tuned, guys. We have a special guest today and this gentleman, I'm a big fan of, of Kevin Stokes and his wife, Susan, Susan can be on today, but Kevin, come on and bring Kevin on. And Kevin one of the things I most like about Kevin, is that he is an Apache pilot for the Idaho Air National Guard. And man, as Eddie would say, I think that's being a pilot myself. I think that's as cool as the backside of your pillow.

Kevin Stokes (06:31):

You're too kind Eddie, or Joe.

Joe Varnadore (06:35):

So Kevin you guys were kind of in the corporate world and you know, you were, you know, doing flying Apaches and you guys became what we call in NoteSchool, a Ninja Real Estate Investor. You and Susan did. And I know Susan has a photography business as well, but you guys became what we call a Ninja, which means you were buying a lot of houses, right? Or flip.

Kevin Stokes (07:00):

Our goal is buying, buy and hold. That's what we'd always learned. And in I found that I didn't really like it a whole lot and it was seeking out a better way to do it that I ended up at NoteSchool.

Joe Varnadore (07:12):

Yeah, absolutely. So you have you guys have been, you know, buying and holding and you've done all of that. You've done the rehab and you know, you now you're buying on buying on terms and you're also selling on terms and they're in the Boise area. And really, you're kind of nationwide at this point as well. Aren't you?

Kevin Stokes (07:33):

Yeah. Notes was the way we were able to lever up and, and move from just the treasure Valley, which we could drive to and think bigger. And now we're in nine States, I think.

Joe Varnadore (07:47):

Yeah. So you're nationwide, right? That's.

Kevin Stokes (07:49):

Pretty much.

Joe Varnadore (07:49):

That's pretty impressive. Yet Ediie, we met Kevin and Susan in a three-day class here. Gosh, about a year, almost two years ago, wasn't it?

Eddie Speed (08:01):

Year and a half, I would say.

Joe Varnadore (08:02):

Yeah in Indianapolis, I believe.

Eddie Speed (08:06):

I remember that well, I remember.

Joe Varnadore (08:06):

I remember they sat right there on the, in the middle of the room on the back row. I don't know Kevin well, Eddie, why Eddie and I remember crazy things like that, but we do, you know, I mean, it's just yeah. They sat right. Third seat over from the beginning there. So you you took advantage of a program that was started as part of the cares act, which you know, came into play back in March of this year. I mean, we've all talked about that. So tell us a little bit about what you and Susan did. I know you had some money in you guys had some money in a corporate 401k and tell us a little bit what the, how that happened. Unpack that story for us.

Kevin Stokes (08:49):

Well, you know, we met you guys when we started investing in looking to invest in notes. So we, a lot of time analyzing it. It's just analysis by paralysis is something I've had to overcome my whole life. And we spent a bunch of time trying to understand how to move out of our buy and hold mentality. I still have a corporate gig that we've been looking to exit for quite a while, but all the money we had saved up that wasn't tied up in other properties already was tied up primarily in my corporate 401k. Then I had a traditional IRA and Susan had a traditional IRA from her previous employment plus for business. And so we started a self-directed retirement account under her business. And we were looking to fund it. We were gonna use notes to kind of start that a hundred dollar plan with that retirement plan and then find a way to roll over.

Kevin Stokes (09:42):

But we hadn't really decided in about the time. We had figured out a plan, the Cares Act kind of changed everything, provided the Cares COVID related distribution. And because of the lockdown in Idaho Susan's business tanked, as far as photography goes and she didn't do any sets for nearly five months. Well that qualified us under the Cares Act Distribution Plan to take out the amounts that we had available to us. Every individual is kept a hundred thousand. I was able to split that between my corporate 401k and my traditional IRA. Susan was able to take hers out of her traditional IRA completely. And so between the three of us, between the three accounts, we got 153,000 that we were able to pull out roughly, I think a little bit less. And we use that money to go set up funding of our note purchases.

Kevin Stokes (10:44):

We knew we wanted a high-income, hi cashflow, because our goal is to get me out of my corporate gig. So we got, we concentrated on the monthly income potential for payoff and a lot of equity in each one of the properties, because I'm not full-time in this, she's not full time in this. We wanted the least amount of trouble that we can get. We did a number of calls with NoteSchool on our weekly calls looking at some of the calls. And in fact, one of the, I knew I was on the right track. Cause one of the assets we were buying, we're looking at buying came up as one of the spotlight.

Joe Varnadore (11:26):

One of the Assets Of The Week, right?

Kevin Stokes (11:29):

Like the Assets Of The Week, it popped right up. And then that was the moment for me that I went, okay, I know what I'm doing. Like, like I've reached it to where this is, this is the right place for us.

Joe Varnadore (11:40):

Gotcha. So let's talk a little bit about, so this Cares Act Distribution allowed you guys, you had like a hundred thousand in one account and 53,000 and another, and you got to move that over into your into your account. And so that allowed you then to use that money and you basically went to NotesDirect and you started, you didn't use all of the money. You used a hundred thousand dollars on buying some notes and we'll look at those in just a few minutes, but that allowed you to go in and you know, to create income in this COVID distribution. It allowed you or Cares Act Distribution. It allows you to pull that money out of there. And really you're going to have to pay the taxes on this, but at the end of three years, you'll get all of any taxes that you had to pay back. And then you keep the total income off of that, right?

Kevin Stokes (12:36):

Yeah. So the, the, the big key to this is that the, your tax burden is just like regular earned income, like a normal distribution, but the Cares Act allows you to split that up into three equal payments over the next three years, then the additional bonus. And this is the big kicker and why this is so powerful is that if you put the money back into a qualified retirement fund, then you can file amended taxes for the three previous years and get all that money back.

Joe Varnadore (13:06):

Right.

Kevin Stokes (13:06):

So what this is allowing us to do is I'm using the cashflow to pay the taxes this first year, so that we can leverage the remaining assets we've got for levering up our business to get us some private investors and to move forward with that, and then pay the taxes this year, pay the taxes next year, and then all that money that we've got. I can just, I don't know any number of options. I can just put that money, that full 153 back into the retirement account. And we get to keep the taxes they'll come back to us.

Joe Varnadore (13:41):

So Eddie, so what Kevin did was he, you know, he went into NotesDirect, right? And they started looking at notes and they picked the four notes. And that we're going to look at here in just a second. So they found four good notes and they took a hundred thousand dollars of that money and it allow them to go do this. And if we'll pop that up there on the screen, there let's look at those. So Kevin purchase you guys so on NotesDirect our notes platform, There's your four notes and the UPB guys is Unpaid Principal Balance. So the Unpaid Principal Balance on loan 1 was 26,245. The monthly cashflow was 558.60. And you purchased note , you purchased notes at a discount. So the purchase was 24,875. And you can see that for note two, note three and note four, right? So these four notes had $112,933 in unpaid principal balance. You bought those four notes for $99,485. Right. And because of that, you now have a monthly cashflow, right. Of 1500 and basically $50 per month, right?

Kevin Stokes (15:05):

Yep. Yeah. It's actually so far, it's been a little bit higher than that because number four, there he's been paying double payments.

Eddie Speed (15:12):

Wow.

Kevin Stokes (15:12):

And he's been asking three times he's asked the servicers what the payoff balance is. So I think he's getting ready to pay it off.

Joe Varnadore (15:21):

You mean, even during the pandemic, you've got a guy just saying, Hey, you know, I'm just going to pay double payments.

Kevin Stokes (15:27):

I, it's, we're blessed. A lot of people are scared of this last year, but this has been a good year for us.

Joe Varnadore (15:34):

Yeah. You know what, it has. And so, Eddie, you want to chime in here and talk about this a minute.

Eddie Speed (15:40):

Yeah. I want to congratulate you, Kevin. You know, we NoteSchool tries to put out a lot of information and one of our preferred vendors who has, which was Quest Trust they are the ones that essentially told you guys about this opportunity, but it's not just knowing about it. It's doing something about it.

Kevin Stokes (15:59):

That's right.

Eddie Speed (15:59):

That's what I love. It's the action. And so you took that information and ran with it and bought four notes. And then you have another, essentially $50,000 that you have a very active investment business where you're soliciting capital investors. You're trying to pursue by buying properties, own terms, creative terms, along with you know, buying these existing notes. It doesn't take a lot of budget to buy these marketing budget by these existing notes. Cause you just went to NotesDirect and click the button and bought them. Right.

Kevin Stokes (16:36):

Yeah.

Eddie Speed (16:37):

And I do remember, you know, you're bringing some of these deals on our little special, what we call our deal lab every week and, you know, and just kind of breaking it down us, just kind of beating it up and talk through it. I teach you guys all the time. You're a more tactical personality than me, Kevin, but you're also really good at due diligence. Right. And it makes a good mix because it doesn't take me long to make a decision, but I like having good facts and you're good at gathering up the facts and position them to where I could say, yeah, I could live with that. Or I wouldn't, or you know, it was just sort of talking through it at the end of the day, obviously it's your decision, but you're leveraging some experience. So let me tell you something, you take a hundred grand and turn it into $18,000, annual cashflow. It doesn't none of us on this show today need a much of a calculator to know that the math's gonna work in your favor.

Kevin Stokes (17:38):

Yeah. That's the kind of Excel spreadsheet that really gets me excited.

Joe Varnadore (17:43):

Yeah. That's that math, that 18% return math. Right. And well, you know, Kevin, you know, Eddie with Kevin, you as an Apache pilot you are an engineer and you have a lot going on in that cockpit at one time, there is not, you're using both feet, both hands. And one of those eyes to look ahead and one to look below you, right?

Kevin Stokes (18:05):

Yeah. Those were good days.

Joe Varnadore (18:07):

Yup. Yep. So tell us a little bit about, so again, this is, if you roll this into a qualified account within three years, then those taxes you'll follow amended return, and there'll be, they'll come back to you. So any taxes you have to pay on this, you'll get all of that tax money back, right?

Kevin Stokes (18:28):

Yeah. Like, so for instance, the not to get into the specific numbers, but I'll use easy ones. The tax burden is about 45,000, but rather than spend that it's 15 a year. And the cashflow is going to cover the first year. And then I'm assuming that at least one of these is going to pay off and we can pay the others and then just continue to collect that money outside of it. And then as long as we pay the 153 back into the retirement account and in the beauty of it is it doesn't have to be in the one that originated. So we're done with the traditional IRAs and we'll be able to put that into our self-directed account. And in the self-directed account, we've got two other NotesDirect assets in there now that are performing as well. We use the same criteria for those as we did the others just to get started. And once we pay it, then the amended returns get filed and then we'll, we'll get that money back. As if we choose to do it.

Joe Varnadore (19:31):

So that really means is that all of the profits on this, cause you were doing this out of a retirement account anyway, so this really wasn't today money, right?

Kevin Stokes (19:39):

Yeah.

Joe Varnadore (19:39):

So it'll all go back in. You'll have all of the taxes you paid in back, and it will have been a great move because that allows you to get that money out of that corporate 401k into a self-directed and then never have to pay, and then having the taxes come back in the back door So that's an amazing thing by the way, folks that is still around, you've got until the end of the year until the 1st of January, the December 31st to do this, or look into it yourself. And I don't know, it may get extended. We don't know. I talked to the folks at quest yesterday to check on that and they don't know as yet, but we will stay on top of that for sure.

Eddie Speed (20:22):

Yeah. One thing I wanted to say to you guys, and I know we want to bring Brian on here and, and make sure he's got any questions, but one thing, one point I wanted to make to you guys is, one of the things that we do at, with our students at NoteSchool a lot is we show them ways to recapitalize their business. So right now, Brian and Susan have a hundred thousand dollars invested in these notes, and you're doing the math in your head go in and well, the cash flows great. But in three years, Brian and Susan are going to need to do something to put that $153,000 back in their retirement accounts so that they can get their income tax. They had to pay on the money when they took it out, that they can get it back.

Eddie Speed (21:08):

Well, instantly in our head, we're going, no problem. You take those notes and you could sell a cashflow with those notes or, and not ever, not really have to sell the whole note. You don't have to sell all the payments in order to do that. Or the other thing is those notes are good performing notes. Kevin, you could just, you could go find a passive, I call it wouldn't really be a passive investor. It would be a passive lender and you could just borrow money and pled those notes as collateral. So, Kevin already knows how he can get the money back, even though he's enjoying the cashflow right now, but to get that money put back in the retirement account so that he can get his get it placed back in there. Again, he already knows how he can recapitalize and do that. And to me, when you start being able to think down the road of how you structure financing around, he's bought a note, but you could do the same thing. If you, if you did sell financing on a piece of property. Now, all of a sudden you don't do one deal. Now you built a business where you can do many, many, many deals.

Joe Varnadore (22:14):

That's right.

Eddie Speed (22:18):

Let's bring Brian on, and let's see what else Brian would ask Kevin. This is a great session today, guys.

Brian Lauchner (22:25):

Yeah. Well, first things first, very impressive. I think some of the things that stand out to me were not even questions, just things that stand out as far as there are so many investors right now who they feel like they're in this rut because they they're struggling in their say their wholesale business. They feel like they're struggling because they can't find houses to buy whatever it is. And this is where I try to encourage people as much as I can to say, you got to get involved, you got to start learning some of the stuff, a guy like Eddie Speed has been doing it, you know, for 40 years he might know a thing or two. Right. And and I think Kevin has kind of taken this information. He's really run with it. Now I will say this just as a quick disclaimer definitely may seek some accounting professionals to get you the information you need.

Brian Lauchner (23:10):

Nobody on here is trying to give you legal or accounting advice or tax advice. But to see that it's possible, I think is what most investors really need right now is to just know like, Oh, there's an opportunity here. And I just got to figure out those steps, right? And I would say that for some of you who are brand new to NoteSchool, the first step is going to be going to www.NoteSchool.com/Tv. Just to learn a little bit more about how does this whole note world work? What is this Eddie Speed ecosystem kind of thing that he's developed. to really get engaged, start getting this information in your head and going out and plug it in. And for those of you who wanting to do what Kevin did and just start buying notes right away whether it's in a tax advantage account or not, you can do that and we can actually teach you a little bit more on our YouTube playlist.

Brian Lauchner (23:56):

There's a Feeding Frenzy Friday where we break down the NotesDirect Friday Featured Asset. If you caught all of that.

Joe Varnadore (24:03):

Wow.

Brian Lauchner (24:03):

Who's rewind it to rehear it. Right. But we break down a note and we talk about those details to give you the confidence that Kevin had, which is, I'm on the right track. I feel like I'm absorbing the information and I'm really getting it. It's now just time to go out and take action, click that buy button, and you can obviously buy something as easy as buying something on Amazon. So, that's kinda how I would say we can go ahead and wrap up the day here. We've been going for a little bit, so thank you to Kevin for coming on. Really appreciate your time and you know, sharing your story. I think it's encouraging to a lot of people who want to get involved.

Joe Varnadore (24:41):

Very good. Kevin, thanks so much, you know, we appreciate you guys and and what you guys do and your family that you have there in Boise and you know, the creativity guys, we are going to have to get even more creative than we had to earlier this year as we move into 2021. So, Eddie final thoughts?

Eddie Speed (25:05):

Kevin, Congratulations. I would say that in light of the fact that you guys, that your wife had an interruption of business this year. You took some smart action and you made a significant adjustment. By the way, I was thinking about this also, if you had to pay taxes in a year, your income was down a little bit.

Kevin Stokes (25:24):

Yeah.

Eddie Speed (25:24):

Right. So that was the smart time to pay taxes when your income was down a little bit and glad that you guys are back going. And I, it's fun to hear you guys every week talking about buying properties on creative terms as well. So just keep doing what you do, man.

Joe Varnadore (25:39):

Absolutely. And guys, as we roll it, as we want to wind up the end of the year as well Eddie, we're going to start into 2021 talking about more and more and more about buying on with Creative Financing, buying and selling on terms. So just gotta keep that in mind. And we do have a show next week and the week after Christmas as well. So we look forward to that. Brian, tell us how, if people can get involved or find out more about NoteSchool, man.

Brian Lauchner (26:09):

Yeah. So first of all, obviously you, you can definitely like it, subscribe to the channel, make sure you're clicking the bell notifications. I see several people chimed in here, Stanley, man, thanks for engaging. How do you get started? You go to www.NoteSchool.com/Tv. It's probably a great starting point to get signed up for some of the training that we have. Some classes that we teach. Shelley mentioned she aspires to be a Ninja. I think that's really cool. Like if that's what you're trying to build your business around, man, let's get engaged. Let's get you on your way. Let's get you some support and some education to help you reach those goals. Right? So for the rest of you, we will see you next week, every Wednesday at 11:00 AM central time, click that notification bell. So you are in the know we're going to have another great guest and we will see you all next week.

#Real Estate #Real Estate Investing #Notes #Mortgage #Mortgage Notes #Eddie Speed #NoteSchool #NoteSchoolTV #Note School

[phroyd]

In the decades since the death of Frank Zappa, scores of film-makers had approached his wife and business partner Gail about making a documentary about the star. “They got an infinite amount of noes,” said their son Ahmet Zappa to the Guardian. “None of them had the right approach.”

That is, until actor and director Alex Winter made a different pitch. “I wasn’t interested in making a typical music documentary about some rock star guitar hero,” he said. “I was interested in who Frank Zappa was as a man and his relationship to his art and the world around him. What were his values and struggles? And I wanted to be honest about his contradictions, of which there were many.

“In Zappa-land,” he said, “everything is paradoxical.”

The resulting film, titled Zappa, presents a nuanced and authoritative portrait of an artist who may have spoken prodigiously to the media during his lifetime about his music and politics but who remained oddly aloof as a person. It helped immeasurably in forming a fuller portrait of the man that Gail Zappa not only gave Winter free access to the gigantic vault of his music and video work, but also spoke for the film in the months before she herself died in 2015 of lung cancer. (Frank died of prostate cancer 22 years before). When Gail started talking to Winter she knew she was sick. So he began filming even before he got financing for the project. Crucially, he also secured final cut of the film from the Zappa estate, which is run by the four children, with Ahmet at the helm. “We wanted this to be a warts-and-all portrait,” Ahmet Zappa said. “This was Alex’s point of view.”

But even with that access, it wasn’t easy for Winter to get to the heart of Zappa, a man who always conveyed a bulletproof confidence in his own vision and philosophy. “I was really interested in getting behind that mask,” Winter said.

To do so, he went back to the artist’s beginning, aided by footage of a young Zappa with his mother and father, to whom he bore a striking resemblance, as well as to old tapes of him talking about his childhood fascinations. A treasured toy for Frank growing up was a gas mask. His father worked at a company that manufactured poison materials during the second world war. Frank also became fascinated with chemicals, putting them to pointed use as a teenager. “I tried to set fire to the high school,” he said in vintage footage.

Zappa first became attracted to music after encountering a collection of work composed by Edgard Varèse that was described as “literally the most frightening, evil, vile thing a human being could listen to”, Zappa recalled.

“I couldn’t understand why people didn’t love it the minute they heard it,” he said.

Zappa became equally attracted to the grinding blues of Elmore James and Johnny “Guitar” Watson, but when he picked up a guitar and taught himself to play in emulation, his parents sternly discouraged him. Likewise, when he formed his first band, a racially mixed unit that slammed out hard R&B, the local California community viewed them “as a threat to decency”.

Undaunted, Zappa began making scores of recordings for himself and others, including a sketchy guy who wanted him to make a soundtrack for his stag party. The result, though utterly un-erotic, wound up getting the young musician busted by the vice squad who threw him in jail. “That really knocked him on his ass,” Winter said. “It woke him up to how much animosity there was towards someone like him, just for being him.”

At the same time, Zappa had the savvy to locate the right musicians to flesh out his aural aspirations. In 1965, he formed the first Mothers of Invention, a unit that didn’t sound or act like any other band of the time. Besides their unusual music, they mocked the emerging hippie movement, the trendy drug culture, as well as the larger art world around them. “Frank didn’t adhere to any movements,” Winter said.

He also didn’t interact with his band members in the usual way. “This wasn’t a bunch of guys who came together and made decisions equally,” Ahmet Zappa said. “Frank was the magician, and the band were his magical tool belt of people who could play the kind of music he was writing.”

Frank Zappa performing with the Mothers of Invention. Photograph: Cal Schenkel

According to those who played with him, Zappa was hardly the warmest of leaders. “I don’t ever remember him embracing anybody,” ex-Mother Bunk Gardner said in the film. According to Winter, “he could be a martinet. All of the musicians had varying degrees of resentment or unresolved issues with the way he just dispatched people after working with them. At the same time, they all looked at the period when they worked with him as the most fruitful of their artistic lives.”

Zappa could be equally chilly in his dealings with women. In the film, a friend of Gail’s recalls that, just after Frank met her, he told the friend “tell her if she wants to fuck, she’ll have to come over”.

But their marriage became a powerful, loving and enduring one, lasting for the rest of the musician’s life. There was, however, a caveat. Zappa carved out his own life within the framework of the marriage. “When Frank was on the road, he lived his life like a rock star,” Ahmet said. “He was a real cock-smith. When I asked my mother about it, I got this strange look.”

“People are human and it hurts, and she says so in the film,” Winter said. “There’s no doubt he was a sexist.”

Zappa had an unusual relationship with his children as well. On the one hand, they were “a primary source of his entertainment”, Ahmet said. “When he was with you, you had his entire attention.”

But, by dint of his obsession with work, he spent far more of his time on the road or recording music than with his family. He also spent lots of time of giving interviews for a practical reason. Zappa knew he was far more likely to get attention for his provocative quotes than for his music, which many found difficult, if not baffling. Even some who considered themselves fans of his didn’t understand Zappa’s intention, viewing him, reductively, as just an eccentric guitar God with freak appeal. In fact, said Winter, “Frank wasn’t a rock musician at all. He was just using different genres in the service of his work as an avant-garde composer.”

‘When Frank was on the road, he lived his life like a rock star.’ Photograph: Dan Carlson

Still, in order to turn that rarefied role into a sustained career, Zappa had to draw on another key part of his character – as a realist. While he had contempt for the way business can corrupt art, he became his own kind of businessman – and a surprisingly adept one, running a long-running indie label for his music and video work along with his wife. “He and Gail were operating their own mom and pop boutique,” Winter said. “They had to be incredibly clever and resourceful.”

In order to pull that off, Zappa also felt he had to be combative. In his view, it was him and his family against the world, a stance which exacerbated his public image as smug and condescending. Even the most rare and intimate footage in the documentary never catches Zappa conveying a whiff of conventional vulnerability. Still, Winter believes there was more openness to both the musician, and to his work, than it seems on the surface. “He’s not singing or talking about his pain the way John Lennon did,” the director said, “but Frank is still a very personal artist in the sense that he was always focused on chronicling his life experience. He was pouring out his soul in his own way.”

That often involved humor. “Frank used humor the way Spike Jones did - as an instrument to convey a kind of emotion and to unseat the audience,” Winter said.

Towards the end of his life, two important events took place which the film chronicles: first, Zappa’s trip to a just-liberated Czech Republic, where he was greeted like a messiah of free expression. Then there was his work with the classical group the Ensemble Modern, who came the closest to performing his music the way it lived in his mind.

In the years since his death, Zappa’s reputation in that community has only increased. “The part of the music world that dismissed Frank the most in his lifetime is now the one that takes him the most seriously,” Winter said. “Now, most of the classical world considers him one of the greatest 20th-century composers that America has produced. They did not think that when he was alive.”

Still, Winter doesn’t believe Zappa ever became bitter, either about the earlier reception to his work or about facing mortality at 53. “Towards the end of his life, he realized that people were beginning to get the substance of who he was as an artist,” he said. “And to him, on a deep level, that was very satisfying.”

Zappa will be released digitally in the US on 27 November with a UK date to be announced

Phroyd

#frank zappa #music #documentary films #culture #film

[norabrice1701]

An Offer Received - Part I

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic 

Pairing:Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader 

Summary: You were just doing your job. It wasn’t your fault you did it so well that your boss, Thomas Conrad, wanted to recruit you in his plan for world domination. And what Mr. Conrad wants, well…

Rating: Part I - an F-bomb or two (later parts heat up, but gotta start somewhere) 

A/N: This is rather the hopeless result of watching "High-Rise", "Crimson Peak", the British Villain Jaguar commercial series, and "The Night Manager" over the last few weeks...so, here goes nothing! Planned to be 5 or 6 parts when all’s said and done. 

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search! 

Part I - 5 Minutes 

You dropped to your office chair with a sigh, plugging in your laptop. Today’s department head meeting had passed uneventfully for once. Robert Stark, Head of R&D, and Chris Rogers, Head of Operations, constantly jockeyed for more allocation of your production resources. It was challenging, you’d admit – finding the balance act between supply and demand while planning for the future. But you were the youngest Head of Production for the largest tech giant in the world, Lok Industries – better known by the LOKI brand splashed on phones, watches, tablets, computers – for a reason.

While youngest as your particular department head, you were hardly the youngest on the senior staff. And that was to say nothing of the CEO himself. The youngest man in corporate history at the helm – an engineer with the aptitude for business strategy and the political savvy to chart a meteoric rise to the top. In fact, Thomas J. Conrad’s nomination for CEO five years ago passed unanimously in record time.  

You’d never met him, never even seen him around the office despite your department head position. Plenty of others had, though, with stories to tell and scars to prove it. You tried to stay above the office gossip – especially when it concerned your senior boss – but it was intriguing. For all the press release photos and official portraits you’d seen – Mr. Conrad looked pleasant enough. Intelligent, sky-blue eyes; well-coiffed, gold-brown hair that betrayed just a hint of natural curl; a dashing smile. But that’s all it was, according to the hearsay – just a well-crafted facade. No one should be fooled by those eyes that could cut men in half; by that clever mind operating with ruthless intent; or, by that sharp, cold tongue that knew no mercy.

It sounded like such a cliché. The handsome, suave boss who was secretly-not-so-secretly a heartless bastard. A vicious predator in a bespoke suit. Albeit, a gorgeous one.

That’s why you didn’t care for the gossip. It’d be far better to meet the man and form your own opinions – but you’d been sufficiently warned that you’d only be brought before Mr. Conrad when you royally fucked up. “Not if you royally fuck up,” Scarlett Romanov had helpfully clarified with a coy smile, “but when you royally fuck up.”

Well, four years in and it hadn’t happened yet. And today was no time to start.

Turning to your laptop, you tended to the business at hand – reviewing production data, answering emails, assigning resource allocation. All in a day’s work. At one point you glanced at the clock, realizing there was just an hour left in your day. Perfect.

Perhaps tonight, you’d break the stalemate with Sebastian Barnes, Head of IT, and text him. He was quite handsome in his own right, easy to converse with, and even easier to fall into bed with. Even morning coffee at his apartment had been pleasant. But work got in the way for both of you – between server upgrades and production outages, there always seemed to be some excuse recently.

The desk phone beeped twice, flashing red, followed by another set of two beeps. An internal caller. You glanced at the ID on the screen, brow furrowing as you hit the speaker button.“Afternoon, Mrs. Brunhilde.”

“Good afternoon.” The pleasant voice of Mrs. Willamina Brunhilde – a relic of the former CEO and still glorified secretary of the CEO’s office – suffused your name with warmth and professional detachment. “Mr. Conrad would like to see you. He has an opening for the next hour, and I’ve just reserved the time on your calendar. Are you in a position to come to his office in 5-10 minutes?”

You knew the question was largely a polite formality. When Mrs. Brunhilde called and Mr. Conrad wanted a meeting, there was no excuse to say no. Your heart rate accelerated as you swallowed. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

With a few more perfunctory pleasantries, the call ended. You exhaled deep, fighting to reign in the sudden nervous energy that pooled in your gut. This was no different than any other meeting you’d attended – you were smart, you were capable. You were the Head of Production, and you didn’t get this job for being a pretty face. Brushing your slacks, adjusting your blazer, and smoothing your bangs, you exited your office for the trek across the sprawling building.

Mr. Conrad’s office suite overlooking the city harbor matched much of the building aesthetic – sharp lines, glass and chrome, a study in clean whites and crisp greys with hints of the company’s bold green signature color. Mrs. Brunhilde greeted you with a smile, ushering you forward to the dark, partially cracked double-doors. You rapped on the wood, exhaling deep.

“Enter.” His velvety, British drawl had always been appealing. 

You opened the door further, stepping inside. He glanced up from the slim folder in hand as he sat in the white, leather chair at his desk – the picture of perfection with straight posture, a black tie knotted tight at his throat, and the crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt on display.

He inclined his head ever so faintly, face devoid of a smile. “Thank you for coming.” Your name rolled off his tongue in the most pleasing way.

You tipped your head in return. “Of course. Thank you, sir, for taking the time.”

He reached to his laptop, pressing a button on the keyboard before looking back to the folder as audio started to play.

Your stomach sank to your feet as you recognized it.

Your voice carried clear. “Our control limits are holding – 23 defects per 1,000,000 units. Our department has set an improvement goal to drop that number from 23 to 5 in the next four years –.”

Robert’s voice interrupted. “Oh goody, but perhaps, more importantly, you can tell me when Lane 5 will be restored?”

“The investigation into Lane 5 is still ongoing,” you said, voice even, “the code has been scrubbed, and we’re looking at retooling options.”

“Retooling options?” Robert scoffed. “Need I remind you that it’s been 33 hours since you canned my primary production line? That’s 33 hours of lost time, to the tune of – oh, say a 9% drop of market share come holiday season if we don’t finish the dev on these new marine products.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “As opposed to a 21% loss in market share if we let our control limits slip and start producing a higher percentage of defective products? Consumers know the LOKI brand is reliable – the highest reliability of any of our competition – and reliability makes or breaks on the production floor. Sacrifice quality control limits and you might as well kiss your cushy retirement goodbye.”

“Then, scale back – temporarily – on Rogers’ orders. He’s meeting quota, check the box for market supply. And if it does get tight, well, a little more demand for less supply usually helps -”

“Robert,” you cut him off, voice tight, “this is my call. I’ve looked at the same numbers you have – with Lane 5 out of commission until we can bring it up to spec, it’s a hit to our bottom line. It’s my job to minimize that hit. While never desirable, we can weather a 9% loss without permanent damage to the brand. Even Mr. Conrad would agree to that. But, if you don’t like that answer – then, by all means, let’s do discuss with Mr. Conrad.” 

The room fell dead quiet, broken only by the faint squeak of a shifting chair.

“Well,” Robert started softly, “I don’t know that we need to go there just yet. What’s your projection on the investigation conclusion?”

“Retooling should complete in the next 21 hours, then we’ll move through start-up.”

Conrad’s hand floated back to his keyboard, pressing a button to cut off the recording. You didn’t dare speak as silence fell. If he was displeased, you would know soon enough. And if he was pleased, well…no one ever said they were called to Mr. Conrad’s office because he was pleased.

Your heart raced as he drew out the moment, but you wouldn’t let him see you sweat. You wouldn’t let him unnerve you.

Cold, crystalline eyes darted up to yours, pinning you in place. “You have absolutely no authority to speak for me. Making baseless statements about my assumed inclinations is not part of your job. Your job does include resolving those inter-department squabbles without leveraging my involvement as a threat. Now, if you’re incapable of standing behind your own decisions, incapable of defending the trajectory that you have set for your department and this corporation by extension – then, tell me now and spare me further disappointment.”

You responded on instinct, hiding the sting of his words.“No, sir. I’ve watched the company’s production numbers for almost four years now. Every metric is higher across the board than when I assumed the position -”

“Yes, including budget. Your department’s costs have increased, not exactly commensurate with your outputs. Diminishing returns often plague the pursuit for perfection as one approaches the pinnacle.” He glanced down idly to the file in his hand. “Your department walks that razor’s edge now. It would be well within my interest, perhaps, to cap you there.”

“Sir, the quality of our production is unparalleled –.”

“But you wanted to bring the discussion to Mr. Conrad, did you not? Well, here you are.” He closed the folder, tossing it idly to his desk before rising. Despite the late hour, he looked as pressed and polished as if the day had just started. He crossed around to the front of his desk, bracing against it as he rested his hands inside his trouser pockets. “There’s only one solution in this case.”

You debated asking but thought against it. Asking would be redundant. He wouldn’t have brought you here without a purpose, without something to gain.

He gestured at the nearest leather armchair opposite his desk. “Do have a seat.”

You paused, hesitating in consideration of his words. Sitting as he indicated would place you in a physically submissive position to his tall, lithe figure. Not that you were short in your heels – standing just over 5’9” – but you weren’t exactly keen to meet your senior boss on unequal footing.

His gaze hardened, mouth pinching with irritation. “If you’re stalling for time, my patience is not inexhaustible. And when I make an offer, I expect it to be received.”

Steeling yourself, moistening your lips, you crossed around to sit as indicated. You squared your shoulders and held your head high, refusing to fully angle back to look up at him as he spoke.

“Mrs. Brunhilde’s time at LOKI has come to an end. As you know, she was installed to her post by my predecessor who tailored the position to suit his needs. Needs that no longer align with my own or the corporation. The position is now evolving to meet the ever-evolving environment in which it must function.”

You nearly whiplashed from the change in conversation. Hadn’t he just questioned your ability to successfully do your job…?

He continued to speak softly yet there was no mistaking the hard, commanding edge. “The new terms for the CEO Administrative Executor now require someone with a working knowledge of the business and its trajectory; a willingness to stand in defense of that trajectory while keeping a clear head for the larger vision,” he pitched slightly forward, voice dropping with the barest hint of a tease, “and, of course, leveraging the power of one’s boss with explicit authority.”

It sure sounded like a tease, but you couldn’t be sure. You were too busy reeling from the implications. “Forgive me, sir,” you looked up at him, “but…it sounds like you’re suggesting….” You didn’t finish. Couldn’t finish. The thought of being removed as Head of Production and reassigned as his personal secretary, office administrative whatever repulsed you. Had he already judged you incapable? Was this punishment for one fucking meeting?

“I’m more than just suggesting.” He reached behind him for a loose sheet of paper. “Take the rest of this week as transition, and start in earnest on Monday.”

“The rest of this week?” You couldn’t stop the outburst. “I couldn’t possibly – you’re giving me just three days to transition out as Head of Production, and into the role of your office executor? Who’s my replacement? I need time to prepare the turnover, oversee the transition – and, surely, I should be involved in determining my replacement.”

A wolfish smile ghosted his face. “Welcome to your first objective in your new role. In addition to learning the expectations of this office and implementing goals for your redefined position, of course.” He held out the paper in your direction and you stared at it, wishing it would burst into flames.

The official notice of transfer with authority granted by the one and only Thomas J. Conrad.

Well, you wouldn’t be texting Sebastian tonight, after all. Not when your workload just quadrupled. You reached out for the paper, gripping it tight as you sighed.

“You needn’t look so glum about it,” he scolded lightly. “Consider it a promotion. If you hadn’t caught my eye – or ear, more accurately – you wouldn’t be here now. At least, you’ll find I’m rather adept at managing my own schedule; my valet manages my personal affairs; and, the café staff is well aware of my expectations for coffee and tea service.”

You quirked a brow. “Isn’t coffee delivery standard to every assistant position?”

He leveled you with a stern look in return. “If you ever bring me a cup of steaming liquid, you’ll find your pay docked by 60%. You’re in this position to be eyes, ears, and perspective on this company. Someone adept at managing the razor’s edge and surviving.” He straightened from his desk, extending a hand. “Are we understood on your priorities?”

Another challenge. Another opportunity. And if it didn’t pan out…well, how many others could say they worked directly for Thomas J. Conrad on their resume?

You rose, taking his hand. “Understood, sir.”

His answering smile, predatory and self-satisfied, sent shivers down your spine.

Up Next: Part II - 5 Weeks 

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