for no other reason than to remind myself which color i want

ALTERNATIVES TO SELFHARM

Disclaimer: Below is a list of things to do instead of cutting, burning, bruising, or any other form of self harm. Please keep in mind that unfortunately, not everything on this list will work for everyone. So, if you try something and it doesn’t work for you, don’t get discouraged! Some of these choices are complicated, and you might want to utilize the help of a therapist or trusted friend when undertaking them. Recovery is not a process that can be walked through alone, so don’t be afraid to reach out for help.

Alternatives for when you’re feeling angry or restless:

•Masturbate. I know it sounds funny but it can get your mind off of things and calm you.
•Scribble on photos of people in magazines
•Viciously stab an orange
•Throw an apple/pair of socks against the wall
•Have a pillow fight with the wall
•Scream very loudly
•Tear apart newspapers, photos, or magazines
•Go to the gym, dance, exercise
•Listen to music and sing along loudly
•Draw a picture of what is making you angry
•Beat up a stuffed bear
•Pop bubble wrap
•Pop balloons
•Splatter paint
•Scribble on a piece of paper until the whole page is black
•Filling a piece of paper with drawing cross hatches
•Throw darts at a dartboard
•Go for a run or a walk
•Write your feelings on paper then rip it up or burn it
•Use stress relievers
•Build a fort of pillows and then destroy it
•Throw ice cubes at the bathtub wall, at a tree, etc
•Get out a fine tooth comb and vigorously brush the fur of a stuffed animal (but use gentle vigor)
•Slash an empty plastic soda bottle or a piece of heavy cardboard or an old shirt or sock
•Make a soft cloth doll to represent the things you are angry at; cut and tear it instead of yourself
•Flatten aluminium cans for recycling, seeing how fast you can go
•On a sketch or photo of yourself, mark in red ink what you want to do. Cut and tear the picture
•Break sticks
•Cut up fruits
•Make yourself as comfortable as possible
•Stomp around in heavy shoes
•Play handball or tennis
•Yell at what you are breaking and tell it why you are angry, hurt, upset, etc.
•Buy a cheap plate and decorate it with markers, stickers, cut outs from magazines, words, images, what ever that expresses your pain and sadness and when you’re done, smash it. (Please be careful when doing this)

Alternatives that will give you a sensation (other than pain) without harming yourself:


•Hold ice in your hands, against your arm, or in your mouth
•Run your hands under freezing cold water
Snap a rubber band or hair band against your wrist
•Clap your hands until it stings
•Wax your legs
•Drink freezing cold water
•Splash your face with cold water
•Put PVA/Elmer’s glue on your hands then peel it off
•Massage where you want to hurt yourself
•Take a hot shower/bath
•Jump up and down to get some sensation in your feet
•Write or paint on yourself
•Arm wrestle with a member of your family
•Take a cold bath
•Bite into a hot pepper or chew a piece of ginger root
•Rub liniment under your nose
•Put tiger balm on the places you want to cut. (Tiger balm is a muscle relaxant cream that induces a tingly sensation. You can find it in most health food stores and vitamin stores.)

Alternatives that will distract you or take up time:

•Say “I’ll self harm in fifteen minutes if I still want to” and keep going for periods of fifteen minutes until the urge fades
•Color your hair
•Count up to ten getting louder until you are screaming
•Sing on the karaoke machine
•Complete something you’ve been putting off
•Take up a new hobby
•Make a cup of tea
•Tell and laugh at jokes
•Play solitaire
•Count up to 500 or 1000
•Surf the net
•Make as many words out of your full name as possible
•Count ceiling tiles or lights
•Search ridiculous things on the web
•Color coordinate your wardrobe
•Play with toys, such as a slinky
•Go to the park and play on the swings
•Call up an old friend
•Go “people watching”
•Carry safe, rather than sharp, things in your pockets
•Do school work
•Play a musical instrument
•Watch TV or a movie
Paint your nails
•Alphabetize your CDs or books
•Cook
•Make origami to occupy your hands
•Doodle on sheets of paper
•Dress up or try on old clothes
•Play computer games or painting programs, such as photoshop
•Write out lyrics to your favorite song
•Play a sport
•Read a book/magazine
•Do a crossword
•Draw a comic strip
•Make a chain link out of paper counting the hours or days you’ve been self harm free using pretty colored paper
•Knit, sew, or make a necklace
•Make ‘scoobies’ - braid pieces of plastic or lace, to keep your hands busy
•Buy a plant and take care of it
•Hunt for things on eBay or Amazon
•Browse the forums
•Go shopping
•Memorize a poem with meaning
•Learn to swear in another language
•Look up words in a dictionary
•Play hide-and-seek with your siblings
•Go outside and watch the clouds roll by
•Plan a party
•Find out if any concerts will be in your area
•Make your own dance routine
•Trace your hand on a piece of paper; on your thumb, write something you like to look at; on your index finger, write something you like to touch; on your middle finger, write your favorite scent; on your ring finger, write something you like the taste of; on your pinky finger, write something you like to listen to; on your palm, write something you like about yourself
•Plan regular activities for your most difficult time of day
•Finish homework before it’s due
•Take a break from mental processing
•Notice black and white thinking
•Get out on your own, get away from the stress
•Go on YouTube
•Make a scrapbook
•Color in a picture or colouring book.
•Make a phone list of people you can call for support. Allow yourself to use it.
•Pay attention to your breathing (breath slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth)
•Pay attention to the rhythmic motions of your body (walking, stretching, etc.)
•Learn HALT signals (hungry, angry, lonely, tired)
•Choose a random object, like a paper clip, and try to list 30 different uses for it
•Pick a subject and research it on the web - alternatively, pick something to research and then keep clicking on links, trying to get as far away from the original topic as you can.
•Take a small step towards a goal you have.

Alternatives that are completely bizarre. At the least, you’ll have a laugh:

•Crawl on all fours and bark like a dog or another animal
•Run around outside screaming
•Laugh for no reason whatsoever
•Make funny faces in a mirror
•Without turning orange, self tan
•Pluck your eyebrows
•Put faces on apples, oranges, or other sorts of food
•Go to the zoo and name all of the animals
•Color on the walls
•Blow bubbles
•Pull weeds in the garden

Alternatives for when you’re feeling guilty, sad, or lonely:

•Congratulate yourself on each minute you go without self harming
•Draw or paint
•Look at the sky
•Instead of punishing yourself by self harming, punish yourself by not self harming
•Call a friend and ask for company
•Buy a cuddly toy
•Give someone a hug with a smile
•Put a face mask on
•Watch a favorite TV show or movie
•Eat something ridiculously sweet
•Remember a happy moment and relive it for a while in your head
•Treat yourself to some chocolate
•Try to imagine the future and plan things you want to do
•Look at things that are special to you
•Compliment someone else
•Make sculptures
•Watch fish
•Let yourself cry
•Play with a pet
•Have or give a massage
•Imagine yourself living in a perfect home and describe it in your mind
•If you’re religious, read the bible or pray
•Light a candle and watch the flame (but please be careful)
•Go chat in the chat room
•Allow yourself to cry; crying is a healthy release of emotion
•Accept a gift from a friend
•Carry tokens to remind you of peaceful comforting things/people
•Take a hot bath with bath oil or bubbles
•Curl up under a comforter with hot cocoa and a good book
•Make affirmation tapes inside you that are good, kind, gentle (Sometimes you can do this by writing down the negative thoughts and then physically re-writing them into positive messages)
•Make a tray of special treats and tuck yourself into bed with it and watch TV or read

Alternatives for when you’re feeling panicky or scared:

•"See, hear and feel"-5 things, then 4, then 3 and countdown to one which will make you focus on your surroundings and will calm you down
•Listen to soothing music; have a CD with motivational songs that you can listen to
•Meditate or do yoga
•Name all of your soft toys
•Hug a pillow or soft toy
•Hyper focus on something
•Do a “reality check list” – write down all the things you can list about where you are now (e.g. It is the twenty sixth of April, twenty sixteen, I’m a room and everything is going to be alright)
•With permission, give someone a hug
•Drink herbal tea
•Crunch ice
•Hug a tree
•Go for a walk if it’s safe to do so
•Feel your pulse to prove you’re alive
•Go outside and attempt to catch butterflies or lizards
•Put your feet firmly on the floor
•Accept where you are in the process. Beating yourself up, only makes it worse
•Touch something familiar/safeLeave the room
•Lay on your back in bed comfortably (eyes closed), and breathe in for 4, hold for 2, out for 4, hold for 2. Make sure to fill your belly up with air, not your chest. If your shoulders are going up, keep working on it. When you’re comfortable breathing, put your hand on your belly and rub up and down in time with your breathing. If your mind wanders to other things, move it back to focusing ONLY on the synchronized movement of your hand and breathing.
•Give yourself permission to…. (Keep it safe)

Alternatives that will hopefully make you think twice about harming yourself:

•Think about how you don’t want scars
•Treat yourself nicely
•Remember that you don’t have to hurt yourself just because you’re thinking about self harm
•Create a safe place to go
•Acknowledge that self harm is harmful behavior: say “I want to hurt myself” rather than “I want to cut”
•Repeat to yourself “I don’t deserve to be hurt” even if you don’t believe it
•Remember that you always have the choice not to cut: it’s up to you what you do
•Think about how you may feel guilty after self harming
•Remind yourself that the urge to self harm is impulsive: you will only feel like cutting for short bursts of time
•Avoid temptation
•Get your friends to make you friendship bracelets: wear them around your wrists to remind you of them when you want to cut
•Be with other people
•Make your own list of things to do instead of self harm
•Make a list of your positive character traits
•Be nice to your family, who in return, will hopefully be nice to you
•Put a band-aid on the area where you’d like to self harm
•Recognize and acknowledge the choices you have NOW
•Pay attention to the changes needed to make you feel safe
•Notice “choices” versus “dilemmas”
•Lose the “should-could-have to” words. Try… “What if”
•Kiss the places you want to SH or kiss the places you have healing wounds. It can be a reminder that you care about myself and that you don’t want this
•Choose your way of thinking, try to resist following old thinking patterns
•The Butterfly project- draw a butterfly on the place(s) that you would self harm and if the butterfly fades without self-harming, it means it has lived and flown away, giving a sense of achievement. Whereas if you do self-harm with the butterfly there; you will have to wash it off. If that does happen, you can start again by drawing a new one on. You can name the butterfly after someone you love.
•Write the name of a loved one [a friend, family member, or anyone else who cares about you] and write their name where you want to self harm. When you go to self harm remember how much they care and wouldn’t want you to harm yourself.
•think about what you would say to a friend who was struggling with the same things you are and try to be a good friend to yourself.
•Make a bracelet out duct tape, and put a line on it every day (Or any period of time) you go without self harm. When it’s full of lines, take it off and make a chain out of all the bracelets and hang it up somewhere where you can be reminded of your great progress.

Alternatives that give the illusion of seeing something similar to blood:

•Draw on yourself with a red pen or body paint, or go to a site such as this, where you 'cut’ the screen (be aware that some users may find this triggering, so view with caution)
•Cover yourself with plasters where you want to cut
•Give yourself a henna or fake tattoo
•Make “wounds” with makeup, like lipstick
•Take a small bottle of liquid red food coloring and warm it slightly by dropping it into a cup of hot water for a few minutes. Uncap the bottle and press its tip against the place you want to cut. Draw the bottle in a cutting motion while squeezing it slightly to let the food color trickle out.
•Draw on the areas you want to cut using ice that you’ve made by dropping six or seven drops of red food color into each of the ice-cube tray wells.
•Paint yourself with red tempera paint.

Alternatives to help you sort through your feelings:

•Phone a friend and talk to them
•Make a collage of how you feel
•Negotiate with yourself
•Identify what is hurting so bad that you need to express it in this way
•Write your feelings in a diary
•Free write (Write down whatever you’re thinking at that moment, even if it doesn’t make sense)
•Make lists of everything such as blessings in your life
•Make a notebook of song lyrics that you relate to
•Call or text a hotline
•Write a letter to someone telling them how you feel (but you don’t have to send it if you decide not to)
•Start a grateful journal where everyday you write down three: good things that happened/ things that you accomplished/ are grateful for/ made you smile. Make sure the journal is strictly for positive things. Then when you feel down you can go back and look at it.

Why Taylor Swift Is The Greatest Living Songwriter (Under 60) Taylor

I recently found myself at a BMI Awards dinner where the song publishing rights organization was handing out some career achievement awards, the first of which went to the classic ‘60s team of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. And then they gave one to Taylor Swift, in one of those cases where they have to name the award to the person it’s being given to because it feels a little too uncomfortable to give the standard “lifetime” award to someone in her 20s. In her speech, Swift gave props to her elders: “I first wanted to say to Cynthia Weil, to Barry Mann, and to Carole King, you, the Brill Building, your legacy, are the reason we do what we do. Many of us in this room can’t dream of accomplishing what you guys have accomplished.”

Except she already has. And (heresy alert!) more. Swift is a rightful heir to the Brill Building tradition, with all the mastery of pop craftsmanship that entails, but she’s also the finest contemporary inheritor we have to the confessional singer/songwriter throne. She’s Barry Mann and Bruce Springsteen, together in one silver metallic mini dress-wearing package. That’s why I say Taylor Swift is our greatest living songwriter—under-60 division, just to be safe. But I digress.

I am glad I’m alive in the prime era of Taylor Swift the same way I felt glad to be alive in the half-century of Dylan and Springsteen and The Beatles and Costello. I’ve leaned forward into my first listens to 1989 and Red the same way I thirsted for the on-sale moments of The River and Nebraska and Imperial Bedroom and Time Out of Mind. These are the moments — all too infrequent in the 2010s, if you’re a recovering rock snob — that you live for as a music fan and especially singer/songwriter aficionado: the opening of a magazine you subscribe to, in which the editor-publisher has promised to bleed onto every page in some fashion. You look forward to admiring the craft and you want to know that you’ve been handed the next six months’ or year’s worth of earworms all at once. But most of all you want to feel you’re about to make that passionate connection with a deep-feeler who knows you better than your own best excuse for a best friend.

Where Swift is most like the great confessional rock writers, and least like the Brill Building set, is in her propensity to fill her songs with seemingly stray details. If you’re writing by the books, you learn early on not to include random asides that throw listeners out of the commonality of the lyric. But Springsteen, Dylan, Costello, et al. have faith that, whatever is lost in relatability by including something specifically autobiographical is a gain for fans who know that that weird minutiae confirms the rest of the emotions as authentic. When Swift interrupts Out of the Woods to mention “Twenty stitches in a hospital room/Remember when you hit the brakes too soon,” that’s about as un-Brill as Bruce talking about Crazy Janey and Greaser Lake. But the specificity of the bridge makes the universality of chorus more meaningful, even if the unstable relationship you’re being reminded of by the song didn’t involve a visit to the ER. It may seem peculiar to the 21st century that we can confirm who the significant others in Swift’s songs are by picking out lyrical details about eye colors or fire signs or scarves and checking them against her exes. But is finding out whether All Too Well was about Jake or Harry that terribly different than the thrill of figuring out whether Dylan’s It Ain’t Me, Babe was about Suzi or Joan, but with Google taking the place of waiting years for a biography?

The position that Swift is Actually Quite Awesome is not nearly as controversial among the older white guy set than it would have been a few years ago. You only get a B for courage now, not the former A, if you speak up at a cocktail party and say, “No, I don’t mean it’s good for what it is, or she’s a positive role model for my daughter or a gateway drug to Courtney Barnett, I mean she is truly the shit.” (Crickets may still ensue, mind you, if no longer outright shaming.) You can attribute this in part to Ryan Adams, whose album-length cover version of '1989’ did a fairly excellent job of indie-splaining Swift to people who only needed to hear that her songs could be rearranged in the styles of The Smiths and Elliott Smith to sign off on her. As much as I enjoy Adams’ '1989’, it falls just a little short as reinvention, or revelation: You kind of sense him wanting to get credit for being the first to discover that Swift’s frothiest sounding songs all have minor chords and melancholy under the Max Martin-ization. The real problem with Adams’ interpretations—which is not a fatal problem, given how good Wildest Dreams sounds as an R.E.M. song—is that he doesn’t really have that much use for the words, given how uninterested he is in emphasizing particular words or phrases and how he throws away some of the best lines. (To be fair, this is pretty much Adams’ approach toward his own lyrics, too.) Not that with Swift the lyrics are everything, when she has such a gift for melodic delights and surprises… but, yeah, the words are kind of everything.

Going back to Swift’s 2006 self-titled debut now, it sounds a little primitive, in retrospect. Which is fine: “primitivist” is exactly what you’d expect or hope for from a girl who released at 16 an album of songs she’d mostly written at 14 and 15. No one should sound 30 as a teenager, unless she’s Fiona Apple. (Hearing Apple’s eloquent teen jadedness when she was a freshman artist felt as impressive and spooky as Captain Howdy’s voice coming out of Regan MacNeil’s mouth.) At the time, it was a widely held assumption that co-writer Liz Rose was the brains of the operation. But you couldn’t help but notice that the best song on the album, Our Song, was a solo Swift composition, penned before she had access to the best song editors Music Row could offer. It sounded utterly conversational , establishing Swift’s knack for writing in complete sentences in a way that sounds completely diaristic and completely musical. It embraced both metaphor (“Our song is the slamming screen door”) and the meta (being one of those songs that is self-conscious about how it is, in fact, a song). It was winsome, guileless, and juvenile—in the best way—on top of being freakily expert for a song written by an underclassman for a school talent show.


Two years later (Swift’s follow-up albums have always been two years later, up until now), she came up with Fearless, which was so much more accomplished that it won her the Grammy for Album of Year, the first time that’d been accomplished by a record made by a teenager. But looking back at it now, you can see it was the only time she ever really marked time, stylistically, as a record-maker. The breakthrough that mattered was 2010’s Speak Now, which was her first real “pop album” (at least for those of us who pay attention to content and not the officially mandated tropes that insisted that honor belongs to '1989’). Just this once, she wrote the entire album by herself, in a rather deliberate F-you to everyone who figured she’d been propped up by Nashville pros. Similar auteurist turns by pop and country artists with points to prove have not always gone so spectacularly but Swift used the opportunity not just to defend but to diversify, as great writers and investors will. This DIY show of tour-de-force ran the gauntlet of effervescent girl-group pop (the title song), Evanescence goth-rock (Haunted), cheerful neo-bluegrass (Mean), girl-on-mean-girl pop-punk (Better Than Revenge), and even a token transitional single in the country-folk style of the first two albums (Mine).

'1989’ is the masterpiece of her career so far
'Speak Now’ also incidentally included the most searing, stark, boldly confessional song by a major artist since John Lennon’s Cold Turkey. (Hyperbole intended.) This was Dear John, a slow, epic-length missive to a love-'em-young-and-leave-'em type that was jaw-dropping in its vulnerability and rage. Never mind the lucky stroke that apparently had the rock star who used and discarded Swift being a guy really named John; Swift does like her literalism, so she probably wouldn’t written a public dear-John letter to a Tom, Dick, or (even) Harry. It’s a ballad that creates the illusion of the artist having vomited onto the page—for those of us who like that sort of thing—but actually belies a severe level of craft beneath the bile. The song rises to an emotional victory, as Swift goes from paying witness to “all the girls that you’ve run dry (that) have tired, lifeless eyes 'cause you’ve burned them out” to being the one who “took your matches before fire could catch me, so don’t look now: I’m shining like fireworks over your sad, empty town.” Compare this to the other great fireworks song of 2010, Katy Perry’s, and there is simply no pyromaniacal contest.


With 'Red’ another couple of years later, she bid a fond F-you to her own previous F-you and reintroduced co-writers to her stable, now adding Max Martin and Shellback as collaborators on a choice trio of songs, as if to say: I dare you to knock this block off. Aside from the handful of tracks with those guys, though, 'Red’ felt more like a classic singer/songwriter album than anything she’d done before or certainly since. It was all about lost love, and hardly for the first time, but now Swift was jettisoning her “better than revenge” approach to achieving payback in song and taking equal responsibility for relational failures, and it was all very sensitive and self-examining and enlightened. So when I got my first listen to the determinedly frothier '1989’ a couple of years still later, I lamented the loss of the previous album’s hard-fought breakthroughs in songwriting maturity.

Lamented it for about two minutes, that is. '1989’ is the masterpiece of her career, so far, and that’s not withstanding the thick gloss of candy coating that covered the whole endeavor now that Martin was fully on board as guiding executive producer as well as hands-on guy on about half the tracks. The meme favored by some critics, that Swift had sold out on us with all this interference by the reigning kings of the pop machinery—and after all we’d done to defend her as an artiste!—was misguided even by the usual standards of stick-up-one’s-ass bias and entitlement. It may seem counter-intuitive, for those of us who usually live and die by singer/songwriter yardsticks, to say that '1989’ is Swift’s most mature album, when there is barely a guitar anywhere in earshot for the singer’s tears to fall upon. But as it turns out, it is possible to talk intelligently, walk in rhythm, and chew bubblegum at the same time.

Yes, '1989’ is a less outrightly emotional album than any of its predecessors. Swift herself has said it’s the first time she wasn’t writing in the wake of a heartache. And that’s part of what makes the album so seasoned and smart. If all the previous albums were her “breakup album,” '1989’ is her maybe-we-are-ever-getting-back-together album. It’s about being just a little bit rueful about past relationships—in a less world-ending, drama queen-y fashion than the take-no-prisoners approach that admittedly made a lot of us fall for her in the first place – and largely about that impulse to reconnect, even as you sit by the phone and consider what a terrible idea that would be. She’s thinking back on a breakup that wasn’t that traumatic (possibly one with Harry Styles, if we’re to take the cheeky title of Style literally), and considering every negative and possible angle to rekindling an old flame. As a result, a lot of the songs on '1989’ are about mixed emotions, which are by and large the hardest kind to write.

She understands more brilliantly the power of dynamics — that even the most grandiose song can benefit by suddenly getting completely naked for 40 seconds.

And here is where we quote another great pop writer, F. Scott Fitzgerald, who famously said: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” Swift is showing us that first-rate intelligence when she encapsulates the divisions we all experience as we find the good and bad in people, lovers and otherwise: “You always knew how to push my buttons/You give me everything and nothing.” “Ten months sober, I must admit/Just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it.” “This love is good, this love is bad/This love is alive, back from the dead.” As the CEO of her own corporation, Swift has had a lot of time to think about risk/reward ratios. Grappling with that in matters of love is part of her giftedness and increasing talent as a writer.

I think again of the congratulations Ryan Adams got for bringing out the sadder emotional undercurrents in '1989’’s material. He deserves some of it, but it’s not as if Swift didn’t make that a fairly easy discovery. Bad Blood is the most blatantly confectionary song on '1989,’ with a sing-song-y quality of the chorus makes you think Avril Lavigne, if you’re making comparisons. But would Avril, or any other pop star you can bring to mind, have interrupted the beats and chants for a lengthy, virtually a cappella bridge that brings the mood down with its warnings about bullet holes and living with ghosts? It’s akin to the hyper-produced song on her previous album, I Knew You Were Trouble, where Swift puts an end to all the dubstep to very quietly wonder, almost sotto voce, whether the object of her affections ever loved her, the other girl, “or anyone.” In the big beat era, she understands more brilliantly the power of dynamics—that even the most grandiose song can benefit by suddenly getting completely naked for 40 seconds.

Blank Space, meanwhile, shows Swift to have under-heralded skills as maybe the greatest comedy writer since Eminem. As probably everyone who wasn’t completely divorced from pop culture in 2015 knows, Swift wrote it as a sort of spoof of her own image as a serial romancer (which is to say, a girl known for dating about half as many partners as a typical guy her age). When she says she’s got a blank space “and I’ll write your name,” it’s understood that she means she’ll write an excoriating song about the dude later on—she’s in on that joke. But amid the nearly Randy Newman-esque humor and exaggeration, there’s a real undercurrent of pain and possible self-knowledge. The time limits that come up in lines like “I can make the bad guys good for a weekend” and “Find out what you want/Be that girl for a month” don’t sound like they’re being played strictly for ironic laughs.

She is maybe the greatest comedy writer since Eminem.

Is she a spokeswoman for a generation? You might be on thin ice using that kind of phraseology for someone who spends so little time writing outside of the relational realm. But Swift does have an understanding of impermanence that seems uniquely millennial. She’s talked about how she looks at the length of her parents’ marriage and no longer takes it as a given she’ll find a lifetime partnership, which would probably come as a surprise to the younger Swift who wrote Love Story. But she finds a haunting beauty in what we might call planned obsolescence. “Wildest Dreams” pulls off the particularly tricky time-traveling feat of looking ahead to a future in which you’re looking back to the past… and of being intensely sexy and rueful at the same time. “You’ll see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night, burning it down,” she sings. “Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around.” That moment when you’re in the heat of passion, leaving your body just long enough to realize you’ll be nostalgic for it someday? If you’ve ever experienced it, you probably never thought somebody would nail it in a song.

Not that you have to be a millennial to be capable of considering how things are likely to end even in the midst of everything going right. I was trying to remember what song the future-nostalgia of “Wildest Dreams” reminded me of, in some weird, roundabout way, and then it came to me: Dylan’s You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go. It’s maybe heretical to compare the bard with this girl from the north country, but not so heretical to say: Great minds wistfully think alike. And we should all feel a little lonely if either of them ditched us.

[MAGAZINE INTERVIEW] 170418 JINWOO & SEUNGYOON for CECI May Issue

Another long hiatus that lasted 1 year and 2 months, reorganization from 5 members to 4. Upon its release, WINNER’s third mini album, “FATE NUMBER FOR” wiped out all doubt that surrounded them and recorded first place on the iTunes Charts in 21 different countries. Even now, two weeks since the release, “REALLY REALLY” refuses to drop from the top of the digital charts. We met with the two people who are at the center of all this talk, Kang Seungyoon and Kim Jinwoo of WINNER. We will suppress the urge to share all the details about how they were deeply natural with each other and how the melodies they hummed together matched so well. That is because it is unnecessary to talk about how WINNER is strong like they always have been and the fact that they still have much to show us.

I saw you two at a restaurant the other day. It was the day after the release of your album and the music videos for “FOOL” and “REALLY REALLY”.

JINWOO

Really?

SEUNGYOON

Oh, that was the day we went to eat nasigoreng and pasta!

It was fascinating. Your songs swept the charts and your music videos recorded ten million views in a day but you guys were eating lunch as if it was just another ordinary day. How did you feel?

JINWOO

The amount of attention and love we received for our debut album was unusual for a rookie group. We experienced many different things after that and after a long hiatus, we’re receiving so much love with our comeback so the greatest feeling we have right now is gratefulness.

SEUNGYOON

Oh, could you wait a second? Song Mino just video-called me saying that he wants to be interviewed with us. Hello? Hello? Oh, I can’t hear him well so I’ll hang up.

(Laughing) Is it really Mino?

SEUNGYOON

I just hung up (laughing) Like Jinwoo-hyung said, we received a lot of love with “Empty”, which was in our first album. Personally, I think I tried not to have much expectations for this album (FATENUMBERFOR). I put in the effort not to get excited even when our song got first place on the charts because it might drop soon after.

But even after 2 weeks have passed, it is still at the top of the charts. Is that satisfying?

JINWOO

It is very satisfying.

SEUNGYOON

I am a little satisfied? We were in a situation where we had to prove to people that it was possible for us to overcome the unfortunate things that happened to us and I think that’s been proven to some extent. Also, how it does on charts isn’t very important to me. I’m satisfied that our fans are liking our music.

You talked about which song you liked better in your V LIVE, right? I like “REALLY REALLY” a little more than “FOOL”.

JINWOO

Seungyoon made that.

Seungyoon took part in writing lyrics and composing the songs, right? And Jinwoo shouldered more weight as a vocalist. How did you feel when you listened to the songs for the first time?

JINWOO

Seungyoon usually sings the guide. He knows the color of our group and the vocal tones of the members so he makes songs that suit those things. Seungyoon took a large part in bringing a song that matches my voice well. I practiced and thought about how I should sing it but it feels like I didn’t need to prepare something more than my usual singing voice.

(Laughs) Aren’t you being too thankful to Seungyoon?

SEUNGYOON

I think the reason why “REALLY REALLY” is doing well is because all the members shine in it. For a group to get known by many people and to receive love, it is important for one member to really pull in the attention but the whole group getting shown is also important. I felt that this song could spotlight Jinwoo-hyung so I purposely put a lot of emphasis on Jinwoo-hyung’s parts. When someone thinks, “This person’s voice is pretty good,” then they can comfortably listen to the song while enjoying that vocalist.

Thanks to the start of the song, Jinwoo has also been called the “Where Are You Man” so it seems like what Seungyoon wanted is coming true.

SEUNGYOON

I’m personally very happy because Jinwoo-hyung’s voice tone and singing method and his other styles balance the song.

“REALLY REALLY” is a feel-good love song because it is really honest. Have you ever taken the step forward to honestly confess your feelings like the song?

JINWOO

I did have a time when I was innocent.

Do you think honestly confessing to someone would be difficult now?

JINWOO

No, I think I’ll always be like that…

SEUNGYOON

I didn’t write my experiences into the song. I just wanted to write the feelings I felt when I was very young. In a vague context. If you look at the lyrics, it doesn’t sound like a love story between adults. It has the vibes of a middle school student in a shoujou manga saying, “Where are you? I came because I missed you so come outside.” I purposely did not include the words, “I love you” in the lyrics. It’s not about loving someone, it’s about liking them.

Because you didn’t use strong words, it became a more lighthearted and innocent love song.

SEUNGYOON

It is also my style. I’m straightforward on a daily basis but when I’m confessing my feelings to someone, instead of saying, “I love you”, I say, “I like you” like a tsundere.

So it’s something like, “I love… I love… No, I like you”. On the other hand, “FOOL” is a breakup song. Excluding dating, what is the most regretful thing you have done?

SEUNGYOON

Hmm. You can say that we were at fault for our long hiatus after releasing our second album, “EXIT:E”. That is regretful to me. When I think about our fans who waited for such a long time, I become more regretful about that. I feel like I should’ve worked harder to do something. When I think about it now, I might’ve been blinded by the overwhelming response we got with our first album.

JINWOO

I regret small things. For example, if I had worked harder and studied a foreign language or learned how to play an instrument when we debuted, I would be really good at it now. I regret how I started learning how to play the drums but that has fizzled out now.

You learned the drums? Why?

JINWOO

There were no special reasons at first. But while I was learning it, I relieved stressed with it and my sense of rhythm improved too.

Talking about instruments reminds me about Seungyoon’s guitar. You were always with your guitar when you were on “Superstar K2”. What about now?

SEUNGYOON

I always have my guitars in my room but it’s been awhile since I properly played them. There is a preconceived notion that playing the guitar means that the person does rock or acoustic music. Because of that, I felt that WINNER’s music was getting discolored by me. It’s possible for people to think, “Kang Seungyoon probably does this kind of music. He plays the guitar so he probably can’t do that kind of music.” I wanted to avoid those kinds of obstacles when I’m promoting as WINNER. It is not like I didn’t practice at all but in the past year, I haven’t purposely used my guitar.

There are many people who look forward to your solo activities. Is the music you are working on right now going to influence solo activities?

SEUNGYOON

I think there will be some influence to an extent. Acoustic and rock music will not be completely gone. That type of music is one of the fields I can do. However, once WINNER solidifies as a group more, if I receive the opportunity for a solo album, I have an indefinite wish to title it, “Everything You Want” and include hip-hop, jazz, ballad, rock, and dance songs. I want to make an album that contains all kinds of music so that I can enjoy it, as the person making it, and so that people who listen to my album can enjoy it too.

Both of you are members who act. Jinwoo, do you have plans for any solo or acting activities in the future?

JINWOO

Hmm. Firstly, I’m still scared about challenging myself in releasing a solo song. I lack the certainty in knowing what song or style that will suit me best. I do think about continuing my acting. Since I started it, I want to properly work hard in it.

You made an unprecedented decision to perform in the Korea National Contemporary Dance Production of “The Little Prince” last December.

JINWOO

I really wanted to challenge myself in a new experience. When I was spending my days working out, taking lessons, practicing, and wanting to do something other than those things, I received a very good offer. I thought to myself that I needed to work really hard for it. The Seoul Arts Center stage is not a stage where even modern dancers perform on often. I also received a lot of stress because I was worried that I would be told “he’s like an idol”.

You two are part of a company that is known to make the most “hip” content in Korea. There are sub-labels of YG that produce subculture content too. Is there something you find interesting in the mainstream right now?

SEUNGYOON

DPR LIVE. I think he’s cool because he makes his own music, performs alone, produces videos alone, and just makes everything by himself. I also get inspired by what he makes.

JINWOO

I like DPR LIVE too and contemporary dance is fun too. It’s very liberating. I’m not saying this because I was in “The Little Prince”… (Laughing)

There are many WINNER songs that deal with loneliness and empty feelings. It is a universal emotion but are there times when you are more lonely because you are celebrities?

JINWOO & SEUNGYOON

Yes, very often.

JINWOO

It can’t be helped because there are always limitations on what people do every day and where people can go.

SEUNGYOON

I think celebrities are a little different from people who are recognized by others. We are aware that we are people who are recognized by other people, not celebrities. It’s not just about not keeping ourselves from drinking excessively or having harmless hobbies, we can’t easily do anything. In this context, we ended up growing apart from [non-celebrity] friends and the people who we can meet gradually become limited. It’s not like Jinwoo-hyung and I don’t contact our childhood friends at all but because we can’t meet each other comfortably like in the past, it feels like our surroundings are being compressed.

JINWOO

Once that happens, you naturally end up being alone most of the time. Even if I meet someone, it’s usually my members.

On top of that, both of your hometowns are far from Seoul. Jinwoo is from Imjado Island in Sinan and Seungyoon is from Busan. Do you guys like Seoul?

SEUNGYOON

We really love Seoul! There’s so many things to do here.

(Laughs) That’s a relief.

SEUNGYOON

There are many things to do but there’s not many things we can do. But I like shopping and I can do that to my heart’s content. Most of the friends I’ve met while working are in Seoul anyways so I’ve become comfortable with this city. It’s like my home.

JINWOO

There are really not many people on Imjado Island. I like Seoul because there are so many people. But I don’t like how there are many cars too.

You’ve been to many cities [in and out of Korea]. Is there a city you want to live in?

SEUNGYOON

We went to LA recently. Seunghoon-hyung says he wants to live in LA because the weather is nice and it’s relaxing. But if I were to choose between LA and New York, I would live in New York. For now, I like being in a busy place. I feel like if I live in a relaxing place, I would get depression. I think that’s because I don’t have a peace of mind yet.

JINWOO

I want to live in Sokcho. Unlike my hometown which is in the west coast of Korea, the east coast of Korea has really blue seas. When I saw it for the first time, I was really surprised. I thought I was overseas! I want to live in Korea while looking at a clean ocean. I don’t really like busy cities.

Your choice makes sense.

SEUNGYOON

But I still like Seoul best. New York is nice but Seoul is better.

JINWOO

That’s right. I like being in Korea the best.

I’m going to ask a heartwarming question. What are you to each other?

SEUNGYOON

You go first because you’re the hyung.

JINWOO

Hmm… I’ve been with Seungyoon for a long time. I’ve received a lot from Seungyoon but I’ve never directly thanked him before.

Then can you two say thank you to each other while looking into each other’s eyes?

SEUNGYOON

(Laughing)

JINWOO

Thank you, Seungyoon, really! I want to tell my other members thank you too. Hmm. I’m really thankful for them.

SEUNGYOON

I’m also thankful. I get lonely easily and even though we’ll probably live separately in a few years, I feel safe that my family lives with me. Jinwoo-hyung is more special to me because we’ve been together for the longest time.

JINWOO

When I look at Seungyoon, I feel really proud.

SEUNGYOON

Hyung raised me like a parent. When I joined YG, he took care of me a lot.

When Seungyoon joined YG as a trainee, he was already pretty famous but Jinwoo didn’t feel burdened by him?

JINWOO

I thought he would act like he’s all that but he wasn’t like that at all. Almost to the point where I found it fascinating.

SEUNGYOON

I really started from the bottom~

You two are more heartwarming than I expected. It’s a beautiful sight

JINWOO & SEUNGYOON

Thank you!

Translated by @chrissy96_

Scans by @goduandme5     

anonymous asked:

C-could you please not reblog art where the characters are white washed? You recently reblogged one where Lance is borderline but Hunk is pretty pasty. Thank you.

Sigh. This isn’t what I wanted to write about tonight. That said, maybe it’s time.

I think I’ve made it clear that this is an anti-discourse blog. That includes race discourse. I think it’s a side of fandom that has done MUCH more harm than good, and I would like it to go away entirely. I understand why it exists, and I would never tell someone else how to use their time, but I will not agree and I will not engage.

I think I know which art piece you’re talking about. The artist was using a rather pastel color palette. It looked like the paladins were sitting in a bright patch of sunlight, relaxing and hanging out together in a lovely room. And that’s all. Yes, Hunk and Lance’s skin tones were lighter than they are in the show. But so was everything. It was clearly an artistic choice and I have no problem with it.

I’m sorry it bothered you. But I’m not going to delete the post. Neither do I intend to keep an eagle eye out in the future to avoid “white-washed” fandom art and avoid reblogging it. I’m sorry if that’s an issue for you. Feel free to unfollow me. I’m not going to train myself to look for problems.

I think the entire mentality in recent years of fandom in general and the Voltron fandom in particular to hunt down “problematic” fan creators and punish them is not only awful and damaging and unhealthy, but also dangerous in a way. Most of the things fans are complaining about their fellow fans doing wrong, or even the show itself, are very minor. By searching so hard for things to be offended about, by finding them and reinforcing them with likeminded fans and working yourself up into a frenzy over them, you are TRAINING yourself to be offended. You are teaching your brain to be pleased and satisfied when you find things that upset you, because the rush of energy and anger feels good. And that just makes you find more and more and more.

This is not a good road to go down. It leads to misery. It leads to depression. It leads to believing that the world is awful and only getting worse, and no matter how much you fight it you can never make a difference, because there’s always going to be some other “problematic” thing to get worked up over. And it’s just going to keep getting worse and worse.

It’s the same way I feel about the “microaggression” thing you hear about in the larger American culture. Racism is bad, and I hate it. But someone asking where you’re from? Not racism. Most of those things I see listed as microagressions are tactless and a little rude, but they aren’t crimes. By teaching ourselves that they are, we’re only making things worse and worse for ourselves and for each other. Morgan Freeman said it best. The best way to cure racism is not to seek it out and decry it, but to find commonalities and learn to love each other instead. You’ll never change a racist by yelling “RACIST!” at them over and over until they shut up. That just makes them hide away in likeminded communities and discuss how awful you are and how abused they are and how they’re right in every bad thing they’ve ever thought about you. You change a racist by showing them that we’re all the same, and our differences are things to be enjoyed and celebrated and shared, not sequestered and hoarded and gloated over like gems.

This is something you learn in therapy for mental illnesses like PTSD and depression, by the way. It’s similar to the counseling I got. Part of the problem with PTSD is hypervigilance, the way your brain is constantly on the look out for things that threaten you. The more you notice, the more tense and alert you become, and then you see more. It’s the same thing with the whole fandom callout culture. I worry a lot about kids who come into the internet fandom bright-eyed and happy, eager to share and discuss the things they love, only to be beaten down by these eagle-eyed folks who see problems everywhere they look that need to be attacked. And these kids are learning to fall in with the crowd, because not to do so is literally dangerous to their mental and emotional health.

We need to train ourselves in the opposite direction. We need to learn to accept each other with a few little bumps and bobbles here and there. If you have criticism to offer, do so, but in a constructive way. And if the creator doesn’t agree, accept that. Accept that their work is just not your cup of tea, and move on with your day. You will be much happier and healthier for it, I promise.

One of my fandom friends was basically hounded out of the Voltron fandom with hate messages she got for one of her fics. The reason? Lance wasn’t Latino enough. Because he was singing showtunes with Blue instead of more “Latin” songs, I think was the crux of the complaints. Mind, this was before he was even revealed to be Cuban, so it was based entirely on fanon. This friend of mine is biracial and grew up in a mixed Latino family. Her godson is a gay Latino, and she based the characterization of Lance on him, because he loves showtunes and his relationship with his partner reminds her of Lance and Keith. The persecution of this friend of mine based on her artistic choices in a cute little ficlet about Lance and Blue having fun together still upsets me and breaks my heart. I want it to end.

I’m sorry if this little essay offended anyone. As I said, feel free to unfollow me if my stance makes you uncomfortable. I hold no grudges. But this is something I feel quite strongly about, and I’m not going to change. And congrats if you read this whole thing! It was quite a piece.

anonymous asked:

viraha - want or the realization of love through separation

Come On Baby, Light My Fire:

Part 1: Grapholagnia

Part 2: Neighbors/We meet again

Part 3: Callipygian

Part 4: Apodyopis

Part 5: Gymnophoria

Part 6: Mamihlapinatapei

Part 7: Basorexia

Part 8: Coitus

Part 9: Hypersexuality

Part 10: Malapert

Part 11: Quidnunc

Part 12: Hiraeth

And now for part 13…

Viraha - want or the realization of love arising from separation


Tired and weary down to my soul, I return to the city and to work early the next morning. Part of me wishes that I could call in sick. Forget about facing all people and wallow in my sorrow for a few days. I’d hardly call myself recharged as I drag myself through a shower and prepare to face the day. At least it’s only a half day with students, the last half dedicated to another form of torture – Parent Teacher Conferences.

Somehow, I survive it and trudge home, dreaming of stew and crusty bread on order from Sae’s and a hot bath. I drop my bag on my kitchen table and pull out my phone. The number is programmed and I have the menu memorized by now. Once my food is on its way, I set the phone down, thinking I’ll grab a quick bath to warm up before the food arrives in thirty minutes, but something small and shiny on the table catches my attention.

A key.

Keep reading

Voltron/Digimon AU (with digimon diagrams!)

I was watching the original Digimon with my best friend yesterday, so of course this AU popped into my head. Let’s just get right into it then, shall we?

So the first four digidestined to be sucked into the digital world were Shiro, Allura, Lotor, and Matt. If anyone remembers from the original show, time in the digital world moves a LOT faster than time in the real world. I think it was one day in the digital world equals one minute in the real world. This is relevant because the first four digidestined were missing for one real-world year, which—to them being in the digital world—equals about 1440 years.

But no one knows what happened to these four kids, only that Shiro and Matt were together when they disappeared. And no one knows that Allura and Lotor’s disappearances were related.

Fast-forward that year to the other four digidestined—Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. We’ll say they’re at flight camp for the summer, because parallels. Keith and Shiro are half-brothers in this AU, so Keith probably has a good dose of angst going for him. Keith lives with their dad, while Shiro lived with his mom. Guess we don’t know where Keith’s mom is.

Anyway, they’re at camp and they get sucked into the digital world where they meet their digimon. I think it will be a situation where Shiro actually shows up at their camp, and thus Keith is shocked, but before any kind of communication can be had, the other four get sucked in as well. Maybe some giant digimonster was trying to get through the hole from one world to the other and Shiro was stopping it with his partner digimon, which is why he showed up there, but had to quickly leave again.

Keep reading

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 20

Holy. Crap. You guys. This is the TWENTIETH chapter of RJWL!!! I can’t even tell you how shocked I am that this story has made it so far. It wouldn’t be here without you wonderful supporters and readers. So thank you so so so so much for all your comments. @diversemediums is amazing as always, convincing me this chapter was actually good as it was snd I didn’t need to scrap it. :D

Catch up on chapter 19 HERE


Claire sat quietly beside Murtagh in the cab, watching the streets of Paris pass by. She’d never been to Paris before. There was a vague memory of an early childhood dream to visit Paris with her true love and kiss beneath the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could persuade Murtagh to let Jamie out for one night and they’d sneak over there. No, she sighed, that would put him in too much danger and that was too much to risk.

When the cab came to a stop, Murtagh exited first and helped her with her bag, eyes constantly moving.

Keep reading

Suburbia. LRH.

Words: 6,575
Pairing: Luke/Reader
Rating: NC-17 bc hella smut.
A/N: I got carried the hell away. 

Based on Suburbia by Troye Sivan.

I’ve grown familiar with the ritualistic dullness of suburbia. An endless array of houses, all looking the exact same, partitioned by white picket fences was all I’d ever known. Nobody ever left the familiarity. Anyone born in the area spent their whole lives working boring desk jobs, clad in expensive suits and pencil skirts.

Rich housewives spent summer afternoons gossiping beside the backyard pools with icy margaritas in hand, while watching the sweat drip off their hardworking pool boys. All the while, their businessmen husbands spent their evenings rubbing their filthy hands up the thighs of their secretaries.

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Little Do You Know - Stiles Stilinski Imagine (Part 3)

❁ (not my gif, but I did edit it a little) ❁

A/N: Part 3 is finally here! I hope you guys like it! Please let me know what you think, I loveee feedback. Also, sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes etc.

[Part 12 & 3] - [Masterlist]


Pairing: Stiles x Reader
Warning: Alcohol involved, that’s it I think.
Word count: 1507


Keep reading

The Beardsley Baby

The Fiery Cross, Diana Gabaldon 

“Do you want her?” I asked. I wasn’t sure whether I was hopeful of his answer, or fearful of it. The answer was a slight shrug.

“It’s a big house, Sassenach,” he said. “Big enough.”

“Hmm,” I said. Not a resounding declaration—and yet I knew it was commitment, no matter how casually expressed. He had acquired Fergus in a Paris brothel, on the basis of three minutes’ acquaintance, as a hired pickpocket. If he took this child, he would treat her as a daughter. Love her? No one could guarantee love—not he … and not I.

He had picked up my dubious tone of voice.

“I saw ye with the wean, Sassenach, riding. Ye’ve a great tenderness about ye always—but when I saw ye so, wi’ the bairn tumbling about beneath your cloak, it—I remembered, how it was, how ye looked, when ye carried Faith.”

I caught my breath. To hear him speak the name of our first daughter like that, so matter-of-factly, was startling. We spoke of her seldom; her death was so long in the past that sometimes it seemed unreal, and yet the wound of her loss had scarred both of us badly.

Faith herself was not unreal at all, though. She was near me, whenever I touched a baby. And this child, this nameless orphan, so small and frail, with skin so translucent that the blue threads of her veins showed clear be- neath—yes, the echoes of Faith were strong. Still, she wasn’t my child. Though she could be; that was what Jamie was saying.

Was she perhaps a gift to us? Or at least our responsibility?

“Do you think we ought to take her?” I asked cautiously. “I mean—what might happen to her if we don’t?”

Jamie snorted faintly, dropping his arm, and leaned back against the wall of the house. He wiped his nose, and tilted his head toward the faint rumble of voices that came through the chinked logs.

“She’d be well cared for, Sassenach. She’s in the way of being an heiress, ken.”

That aspect of the matter hadn’t occurred to me at all.

“Are you sure?” I said dubiously. “I mean, the Beardsleys are both gone, but as she’s illegitimate—”

He shook his head, interrupting me.

“Nay, she’s legitimate.”

“But she can’t be. No one realizes it yet except you and me, but her father—”

“Her father was Aaron Beardsley, so far as the law is concerned,” he informed me. “By English law, a child born in wedlock is the legal child—and heir—of the husband—even if it’s known for a fact that the mother committed adultery. And yon woman did say that Beardsley married her, no?”

It struck me that he was remarkably positive about this particular provision of English law. It also struck me—in time, thank God, before I said anything—exactly why he was positive.

William. His son, conceived in England, and so far as anyone in England knew—with the exception of Lord John Grey—presumably the ninth Earl of Ellesmere. Evidently, he legally was the ninth Earl, according to what Jamie was telling me, whether the eighth Earl had been his father or not. The law really was an ass, I thought.

“I see,” I said slowly. “So little Nameless will inherit all Beardsley’s property, even after they discover that he can’t have been her father. That’s … reassuring.”

His eyes met mine for a moment, then dropped.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “Reassuring.” There might have been a hint of bitterness in his voice, but if there was, it vanished without trace as he coughed and cleared his throat.

[….]

The whole discussion was giving me a very queer feeling. Something almost like panic, as though I were being pushed by some unseen hand toward the edge of a precipice. Whether that was a dangerous cliff or merely a foothold for a larger view remained to be seen.

I saw in memory the gentle curve of the baby’s skull, and the tissue-paper ears, small and perfect as shells, their soft pink whorls fading into an otherworldly tinge of blue.

[…]

 [The baby’s mother] “…won’t come back,” I said. Whatever my own uncertainties about the rest of it, I was sure that in this respect at least, I spoke the truth. Wherever Fanny Beardsley had gone—or why—I was sure she had gone for good.

“Even if she did,” I went on, pushing aside my vision of snow drifting through an empty wood, and a wrapped bundle lying by the burned-out fire, “I was there. I could say what happened.”

“If they’d let ye,” Jamie agreed. “Which they wouldna. You’re a marrit woman, Sassenach; ye couldna testify in a court, even if ye weren’t my own wife.”

That brought me up short. Living as we did in the wilderness, I seldom encountered the more outrageous legal injustices of the times in a personal way, but I was aware of some of them. He was right. In fact, as a married woman, I had no legal rights at all. Ironically enough, Fanny Beardsley did, being now a widow. She could testify in a court of law—if she wished.

“Well, bloody hell!” I said, with feeling. Jamie laughed, though quietly, then coughed.

I snorted, with a satisfactory explosion of white vapor. I wished momentarily that I was a dragon; it would have been extremely enjoyable to huff flame and brimstone on a number of people, starting with Fanny Beardsley. Instead, I sighed, my harmless white breath vanishing in the dimness of the lean-to. “I see what you mean by ‘delicate,’ then,” I said.

“Aye—but not impossible.” He cupped a large, cold hand along my cheek, turning my face up to his. His eyes searched my own, dark and intent.

“If ye want the child, Claire, I will take her, and manage whatever comes.”

If I wanted her. I could feel the soft weight of the child, sleeping on my breast. I had forgotten the intoxication of motherhood for years; pushed aside the memory of the feelings of exaltation, exhaustion, panic, delight. Having Germain and Jemmy and Joan nearby, though, had reminded me vividly.

“One last question,” I said. I took his hand and brought it down, fingers linked with mine. “The baby’s father wasn’t white. What might that mean to her?”

I knew what it would have meant in Boston of the 1960s, but this was a very different place, and while in some ways society here was more rigid and less officially enlightened than the time I had come from, in others it was oddly much more tolerant.

Jamie considered carefully, the stiff fingers of his right hand tapping out a silent rhythm of contemplation on the head of a barrel of salt pork.

“I think it will be all right,” he said at last. “There’s no question of her being taken into slavery. Even if it could be proved that her father was a slave—and there’s no proof at all—a child takes the mother’s status. A child born to a free woman is free; a child born to a slave woman is a slave. And whatever yon dreadful woman might be, she wasna a slave.”

“Not in name, at least,” I said, thinking of the marks on the doorpost. “But beyond the ques- tion of slavery … ?”

He sighed and straightened.

“I think not,” he said. “Not here. In Charleston, aye, it would likely matter; at least if she were in society. But in the backcountry?”

He shrugged. True enough; so close as we were to the Treaty Line, there were any number of mixed-breed children. It was in no way unusual for settlers to take wives among the Cherokee. It was a good deal rarer to see children born of a black and white liaison in the back- country, but they were plentiful in the coastal areas. Most of them slaves—but there, nonetheless.

And wee Miss Beardsley would not be “in society,” at least, not if we left her with the Browns. Here, her potential wealth would matter a great deal more than the color of her skin. With us, it might be different, for Jamie was—and always would be, despite his income or lack of it—a gentleman.

“That wasn’t the last question, after all,” I said. I laid a hand over his, cold on my cheek. “The last one is—why are you suggesting the notion?”

“Ah. Well, I only thought …” He dropped his hand, and looked away. “What ye said when we came home from the Gathering. That ye could have chosen the safety of barrenness—but did not, for my sake. I thought—” He stopped again, and rubbed the knuckle of his free hand hard along the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“For my sake,” he said firmly, addressing the air in front of him as though it were a tribunal, “I dinna want ye to bear another child. I wouldna risk your loss, Sassenach,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “Not for a dozen bairns. I’ve daughters and sons, nieces and nephews, grandchildren—weans enough.”

He looked at me directly then, and spoke softly.

“But I’ve no life but you, Claire.”

He swallowed audibly, and went on, eyes fixed on mine.

“I did think, though … if ye do want another child … perhaps I could still give ye one.”

Brief tears blurred my eyes. It was cold in the lean-to, and our fingers were stiff. I fumbled my hand into his, squeezing tight.

Even as we had spoken, my mind had been busy, envisioning possibilities, difficulties, blessings. I did not need to think further, for I knew the decision had made itself. A child was a temptation of the flesh, as well as of the spirit; I knew the bliss of that unbounded oneness, as I knew the bittersweet joy of seeing that oneness fade as the child learned itself and stood alone.

But I had crossed some subtle line. Whether it was that I was born myself with some secret quota embodied in my flesh, or only that I knew my sole allegiance must be given elsewhere now … I knew. As a mother, I had the lightness now of effort complete, honor satisfied. Mission accomplished.

I leaned my forehead against his chest and spoke into the shadowed cloth above his heart.

“No,” I said softly. “But, Jamie … I so love you.”


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L.A. Theater Review: ‘Hamilton’ at Hollywood Pantages (Variety) [x x x]:

[…] At the risk of revealing too much about myself, it was the ten-dollar bill that piqued my interest in Alexander Hamilton. Back in the year 1999, the U.S. Treasury — an organization which, it should be said, Hamilton helped to establish, serving as its first secretary under George Washington — redesigned the look of American money. The heads got bigger, and Hamilton got hot.

Thanks to a new artist’s liberal reinterpretation of a painting that hangs in the National Portrait Gallery (the original of which features Hamilton with a sharp, severe nose and a faraway expression), one of those old white guys gracing the face of U.S. currency suddenly ceased to look like a windbag in a powdered wig, and instead came off as a dashing young man with a fire in his eyes. Weirdly enough, I suddenly found myself crushing on someone who’d been dead for nearly 200 years — and I suppose, in his own way and for entirely different reasons, so did Miranda, who dug into Hamilton’s biography to find an incredibly rich story of “a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a / Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten / spot in the Caribbean” that connected to his own immigrant experience, and the one he’d previously dramatized in “In the Heights.”

Just as the new 10-spot had flattered Hamilton, so too does Miranda’s brilliant musical, turning him into a tragic romantic hero who rose from poverty to become one of the most prolific and influential authors of modern democracy. The fact that “Hamilton” debuted during the Obama administration (more than that, in its early hip-hop mixtape form, it actually went viral after a private performance for Barack, Michelle and their inner circle at the White House in 2009) was all the more poignant, seeing as how Miranda and an incredibly talented multi-ethnic ensemble embodied everyone from Hamilton to Washington on stage, while leaving a white guy (Jonathan Groff, in the original Broadway cast) to play “the Man,” England’s mincing King George, tottering on the brink of a madness.

How quaint it all seems today, now that our commander in chief looks and sounds more like that dictatorial buffoon than the eloquent orator who preceded him. And yet, “Hamilton” couldn’t be a more vital show today, reminding audiences that all is not lost, that our country has endured the effects of venality, avarice and runaway ambition before. With Washington’s exit song, “One Last Time” (here performed with dignity and composure by Isaiah Johnson), it prepared us to say goodbye to a great leader, and to borrow one of the show’s more colorful phrases, it taught us that the nation can recover even after a subsequent lesser President “sh– the bed.”

[…]

Regional maps from the recent presidential election revealed a troubling phenomenon in which big cities nearly all voted blue, while rural areas (even those not far from Los Angeles) went red. The thing about traveling Broadway shows is that they almost exclusively play big cities, which means Miranda’s progressive-minded message has been preaching mostly to the choir, and will continue to do so when addressing Los Angeles audiences. Is anyone here actually scandalized by the casting? That’s not the point, of course. Rather, “Hamilton’s” genius comes in challenging both the conventions and increasingly fascist politics of who gets to tell another person’s story. There’s a long, ugly tradition of white actors performing in blackface, whereas the reverse has too seldom been seen.

Luwoye, who played both Hamilton and Burr on Broadway (the former as alternate, the latter as understudy), may not look like either Hamilton or Miranda, but he’s one heck of a performer. Slightly shrimpier than most of the other actors, Luwoye uses his small stature to the part’s advantage, playing Hamilton as a man with much to prove. His early “I want” song, “My Shot,” cleverly forebodes his own demise, as does the repeated observation that Hamilton writes like he’s “running out of time.”

[…]

From the period-inspired costumes and deconstructed wooden-scaffold set to the essential device of a double-rotating stage (key to the climactic duel), the Pantages production closely approximates the effect seen on Broadway, while adapting to a house with more than double the capacity (and nearly 10 times that of the 299-seat Public Theater). All three versions were directed by Thomas Kail, but are differentiated by the personalities on stage, as he allows the actors to adapt the roles to their respective strengths (a point made clear when the understudies and swings appear afterward, looking nothing like the actors for whom they might substitute).

And yet, whatever nuances these new actors may bring to the equation, two veterans of earlier “Hamilton” productions stand out as the ensemble’s strongest components. As Burr, Henry has to be every bit as good as whoever’s playing Hamilton, or else his tragic role as “the damn fool that shot him” doesn’t work. But the real standout is Raver-Lampman, punkishly assertive as Angelica (whom she plays with a black-to-blonde ombré mohawk), a character who’s non-essential to the plot, and yet hugely impactful, articulating the mistake of underestimating Hamilton — which, of course, we all did until Miranda corrected the record with his incredible, essential musical. And now, while it lasts, and no matter what the cost, Angelenos should do anything to be in the room where it happens.

Fools

Jughead x Reader

In which the reader is reflecting on her visit to Riverdale over the summer, including her first love. Based on the requested song: Fools by Lauren Aquilina

Warning: None

Word Count: 2,260

A/N: I think I’ve found another amazing artist to add to my Writing Jamz playlist hell yeah

Masterlist


We are too fragile just to guess

And I’ve been in this place before

A Summer in Paradise.

That’s what my mom told me it was.

I’m not sure if she actually meant it, or just said it to me to make me feel better about spending the summer in Riverdale with my dad.

I hadn’t been there or seen my dad in years, and I’d always been content with it, but I don’t think my mom was, because all of a sudden my mom thought it was a good idea that I bond with him before it’s too late.

I got out of the car, just a few days after school ended and we took the long drive up there. She didn’t want to even see his face, so she literally just left me with my suitcase on the curve and told me she’d see me in a few months.

And what a crazy few months those were.  

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anonymous asked:

Bakugou headcanons of him crushin on a reader that is pastel/girly & is Todoroki's ex??

Bakugou Katsuki

Originally posted by stevenstarphase

  • Number 1: He absolutely loves your whole Pastel Aesthetic
    • He loves seeing you in the bright colors and thinks all your clothes look really soft 
  • Bakugou would be real annoyed that you dated Todoroki in the first place
    • What’d that half-and-half loser have that he didn’t have? Nothing, that’s what.
      • He’s an Ex for a reason so obviously he wasn’t totally right for you
    • Would 100% flirt with you in front of him and if you ever respond positively he’d smirk over at Todoroki
  • I think that Bakugou would also compare himself to Todoroki a lot both while he’s crushing on you and in the beginning of your relationship.
    • ‘Todoroki is nicer and calm most of the time, I can’t really say those are words I’d use to describe myself. Shit, I’m always yelling at stuff and telling people to die, what if I fucking scare them away? Damn it.’
      • He’d worry that he isn’t actually your type at all, even if Todoroki wasn’t Mr. Right, the two of them are very different people.
      • If you two begin dating in the very beginning he’d be a little bit distant, he’s got a bit of a superiority complex and would be overanalyzing things
        • ‘Todoroki dated [reader] first, which means I’m not their first choice in a partner. They would probably rather have someone who wasn’t so aggressive and intense about everything, I’m only second best that’s why I was chosen last.’
          • It’s an actual issue and it bugs both of you, you’ll have to force him to talk to you about the issue so the two of you can confront the problem and move forward in your relationship
            • Every once in a while remind him that you chose him above any other person and you’d do so again because he is the guy you want to be with. It’ll help raise his confidence
  • If you’re the type who likes floral stuff he loves when you wear flower crowns
    • He thinks you look so cute in them and they frame your face so nicely and yes, You’re so beautiful
      • Once he saw you actually make a flower crown and he got real emo, real quick
        • He’s just a man and he’s very weak over you and it’s not a feeling he likes but he will endure
  • One time he just randomly bought you a pretty sundress
    • It was an impulse buy
      • He saw it while wandering around town and was like ‘Oh, [reader] likes wearing girly stuff, I bet they’d look really cute in this…’
        • next thing he knew he bought it and was heading home
        • He had no idea how to give you the dress, so he was really nervous and tense and was yelling a lot more than usual the next day
        • He uses the extra yelling as a perfect segway into giving you an apology gift, aka the dress
        • He is so so sweaty and he worries that he’s gonna blow you and the dress up when you take it from him
          • and when you smile and thank him hoo boy someone get recovery girl he’s done
just for tonight [ jeremy heere x reader ]

Summary : Jeremy Heere is a socially ostracized teen boy at a Halloween party. After a meeting with his high school bully, Rich, he decides to get a supercomputer implanted in his brain to make him cooler. His friend, (Y/N), who is completely opposed to the idea lets their feelings spill when they take Jeremy onto the dance floor. An emotionally-charged kiss that never should have happened may end up being the best thing that happened to either of them.

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“Come Here, Sis” - Or Why Jasper!Redemption Will Be An Amethyst Arc

Rearranging my notes I’ve been taking to help with the fic I’ve been writing to pass the time before new episodes return, and, on request, I’ll post it here. A lot of this stems from a frustration I have with the fandom on two fronts when it comes to Jasper’s future healing arc: 1) they assume all of Jasper’s problems stem from Pink Diamond being shattered, when it’s been made clear that’s NOT the root cause of her issues; and 2) they push the idea that her healing will somehow revolve around Pearl.

(Not meaning to hate on Jaspearl here but it’s pretty frustrating when the vast majority of Jasper redemption headcanon, art, and fic revolves around Pearl at the expense of Amethyst.)

I’ve made my feelings clear in the past that with everything that’s been set up, it’s so obvious to me that Jasper’s return will be part of an Amethyst arc; I mean I feel like this should be common sense and yet. And I don’t mean that Amethyst will do all the hard work and get Jasper ready for a future romance with Pearl. I don’t think Jasper’s arc will involve any romance whatsoever, and honestly, it doesn’t need to. Her story feels like a sisterly route would be much more cathartic given that that’s what has helped Amethyst with her problems. And honestly to see so many people dismissing that as inferior and not as fulfilling as romance is pretty telling.

Jasper has more in common with Amethyst than she has with any other Gem. For all people talk about how Jasper and Pearl are warriors** and they they loved their respective leaders, that’s about where their similarities end. Whereas Jasper and Amethyst have: both being Quartzes; both having an innate love to fight; both being made on Earth under Pink Diamond; both were the “best thing” to come out of their Kindergartens; both being separated from the other Gems in their Kindergartens and raised to believe they were better than them; both having self-esteem issues rooted in how their respective sides have raised them.

Lots of people speculate that Jasper’s relationship with Pink Diamond was analogous to Pearl’s relationship with Rose, with very little to back that up other than that Jasper got upset when Steven mistakenly thought she had been referring to Yellow Diamond when Jasper had blamed “Rose” for Pink Diamond’s shattering.

Personally, I think a reciprocated romance between Jasper and PD would have been a really bad thing. Like all potential romances between the Diamonds and any Gem who isn’t a Diamond, there’s a very wide power imbalance. Put simply, there’s no way this relationship could have worked romantically in a way that PD was not taking advantage of Jasper: she, by all accounts, had Jasper’s Kindergarten commissioned, and PD was in charge of the Earth Quartzes and was probably their military commander-in-chief. So there is in no universe where this relationship could have been equal, especially given the Homeworld caste system. How would a romance between them not be exploitative?

So until we’re given more info on PD, I side with the probability that Jasper’s relationship with her will probably mirror in some ways Amethyst’s to Rose. Because Betas like Skinny and Carnelian lived through the end of the war, we have at least some reason to believe that PD might have been less obsessed with wiping out “inferior” Gems initially, if only because she pragmatically needed every soldier she could on the ground. And perhaps to Jasper she also told her she was “perfect the way she was;” and just like how Rose’s sentiment in telling Amethyst that had been well-meaning, it did ultimately lead to some problems, as I imagine it would have with Jasper.

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Castiel, Prince of Hell. It’s catchy. It rhymes.

I warned y’all that this speculation might piss people off, so I’ll just go ahead and throw it up there in the title so that way you can skip it if you so choose.

We know we’re in for a hell of a cliffhanger this year. (”You guys are going to hate me.” - Mark Pellegrino. Or something like that.) I mean, we always are, because that’s what the show does… but how about more of one than usual? 

Could Cas be next season’s Big Bad, as a Prince of Hell?

Yeah, yeah – I know. Many of you are just gonna smile politely, nod, and whisper to each other about that one lady yelling about glowing eyes again. (I do yell about eyeballs a lot. Have I mentioned that I like glowing eyes today? Well, if you didn’t know - I dig glowing eyeballs. That said, there’s way more to this than glowing eyeballs.)


But hear me out if you have the patience, because I have a bunch of words here explaining why I’m seeing this (even though I’m gonna say there’s like… a 7.3% chance of this actually happening, just because I like pulling totally random stats out of my butt). I already know @mittensmorgul​ does NOT see this happening at all. But if/when it doesn’t happen, maybe somebody will be inspired to write an awesome canon-divergent fic over the summer.

So, if you’re interested, surge on ahead.

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Morgan Rielly - 2:00am in Toronto "I Wish You Didn't Love Me"

Originally posted by wonthetrade

This series is based off songs from Jake Miller’s album “2:00am in LA

Word Count: 1480

Warnings: Steam

No Return / I Wish You Didn’t Love Me/ Sleeping With Strangers / Parties / Back To The Start


The next following months with Morgan were completely different than what you had expected. Weeks later, the season had started back up and Morgan was back on the road. In the past years when this had happened it wasn’t as difficult. Yeah, you missed him, but now there was a whole new level of separation.

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🖤Drug Lord E [Part 6] (Ethan x Reader)

Summary: Ethan and Y/N get closer

Warnings: FOR ENTIRE SERIES: Drugs/sexual assault/Violence

A/N: Twins are older in this. So I’ve never wrote anything about these subjects before and at any point if you are uncomfortable please stop reading! Also, requests are on hold until I finish the series! Still open, just won’t be posting! Now without further ado, I present Drug Lord Ethan.

Part 5

Ethan’s POV

It’s been about two weeks since Y/N’s been here. I still haven’t gotten money from, or even seen Justin. I haven’t really said much of anything to her. I really had nothing to say. She was starting to connect with everyone else, but she would never look to me. Whenever we weren’t out, everyone would hang out in the living room and play a boardgame or watch a movie. I was typically in my room getting high to forget everything. Nate and Y/N were extremely close now. I’m pretty sure that they have probably slept together while I’ve been out or when they’ve been alone. I decided not to kill Justin, well Grayson convinced me not to. I was in a rage mode and the next day I was over it.

I was currently in my room smoking a blunt with Grayson, Angie, and Cameron. I think everyone else was in the living room playing Uno. Angie was nuzzled up against Grayson’s chest as she took a hit from the blunt. Gray looks down at her as she blows the smoke in his face. We all started laughing. Well I wasn’t. All I could think about was Sam being here. Sam lying on my chest while I smoked. She never did take a hit. She would keep me on the ground while my head was high in the clouds. She would cup my face and kiss me whenever I was being too paranoid or I just wouldn’t stop talking. For some reason, Y/N reminded me of Sam in some ways. We may not have the same connection, but I felt good around her? I don’t think that makes sense. At first, I couldn’t stand Y/N being here.

“Ethan you good?” Cameron asked as I snapped myself back into reality. I nodded showing I was okay. “Your turn.” Cameron motions towards the blunt in his fingers. I take another toke until the room is full of smoke. I pass it on and throw my head back against the bed. I could feel myself getting higher and higher. I climbed on my bed and flopped my head in my pillows. I heard everyone in the room talking as I felt my eyes grow heavy. I peeled my shirt off as going to bed high always made me sweat.

***

I woke up around 3:47am to a loud thud down the hall. I look on the floor and I see Grayson and Angie tangled together sleeping. I then heard a muffled shriek before I hopped out of bed on my feet. I darted down the hall before I heard a loud bang against Y/N’s door. I tried to open the door, but there was an object in the way. “Y/N are you okay?” I asked concerned through the door. “What’s against the door? Let me in.” I demanded as I punched the door.

“Ethan?” I heard her ask and then I heard her spit.

“She’s fine dude.” I recognized that voice. Nate was in there with her. I then slammed my body against the door trying to open it.

“You better not fucking touch her Garner!” I slammed against the door once more before the hinges broke off. I saw Y/N lying on the floor with blood coming out of her nose. Her shirt had been ripped to where I could see her dark colored bra. I looked up at Nate who was shirtless and his jeans were unbuttoned. That’s when I lost it. I slammed him up against the wall with my hand around his throat. I pinched him by this throat and I slammed him against the wall again, this time knocking some drywall out. “If you ever fucking touch her again I will fucking murder you with my own bare hands. Do you understand me?” I asked as I felt my shoulder being pulled back. “If you try anything like this again with anyone, I will fucking kill you!”

“Let him go E.” I heard Grayson stutter as he pulled my grip on Nate’s neck loose. Alex is on my other side pulling too. I let go and I turn around. Angie is on the ground next to Y/N. I look back to Grayson.

“Clean her up. Move her things into my room. She’ll be staying with me for the rest of her time here.” Alex grabbed some of the clothes Angie let her borrow and left the room. I walked over to Nate who was trying to catch his breath. I kneeled down to him.“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again. Are we clear?” I asked him. He looked up at me and bared his teeth at me. He spit in my face as he smirked.

“We’re clear.” He hissed. “She’s not as easy as you made her out to be Dolan.” He chuckled. I stood up and I nodded my head. I turned around to see Grayson and Angie taking Y/N out of the room. I looked back at Nate before I kneed him in the face hard. His head bounced off of the wall before he collapsed on the floor. I leaned down next to him again.

“If I find out you did anything more to her besides try to touch her, you will be out of the gang and dead within minutes.” I whispered before leaving Nate in the room alone.


Y/N POV

I was sitting on the toilet while Angie was cleaning my wounds. “Sorry about your shirt.” I stated trying to break the silence. It was pretty late and I knew she was probably exhausted.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay and that Ethan didn’t kill him.” I furrowed my brows confused. “I thought we were friends.” I said trying to change the subject as Angie wiped a cold rag against my forehead. I winced in pain.

“Yeah I actually liked Nate. I had no idea he would do something like this.” Angie continued to clean my face a little. “Some of these are going to bruise.” I nodded as I already knew. After some more silence, Grayson walked back into the bathroom. He had a straight face on as he looked at Angie cleaning me up. He handed me a hoodie which had a skunk smell to it.

“Thanks.” I mumbled. I slid the hoodie on.

“Did he do anything to you?” Grayson asked me. I knew not to say anything to terrible. I may have been here for a few weeks, but I think snitches get stitches applies here too.

“No. He came into my room and felt me up. When I tried to push him away is when he lost his cool. He pushed me up against the door and that’s when Ethan tried to stop it.” I halfway lied and halfway told the truth. I didn’t say anything to them about Nate kissing me or trying to get me to suck him off. I didn’t tell them about Nate punching me or choking me either. I felt the less they knew, the better off I would be.

“Well Ethan doesn’t want you by yourself so you’re going to be staying in his room for awhile.” Grayson looked up at me.

“What? No! I don’t want to stay with that jerk! He’s no better than Nate.” I argued. Ethan walked in the bathroom behind Grayson.

“Y/N this is for your own good! Just shut up and listen for once!” Grayson snapped at me. Angie stopped cleaning my face and looked at Grayson in shock. He was breathing heavily. I’ve never heard Grayson yell before, especially at me. Ethan was also taken back a little by his brother’s outburst. “Sorry. Smoking always makes me a tad bit irritable. Ethan is an asshole, but he’s trying to help you out now. Just meet him halfway on this okay?” I noticed Ethan had left the bathroom. I nodded at Grayson to which he also left. Angie put some bandaids on my face.

“I’m going to…” She trailed off, but I knew what she meant.

“Go. Don’t worry I’ll be fine.” I said and she smiled at me. She left me alone in the bathroom. I saw the time on the clock read 4:23am. I was starting to feel my eyelids grow heavy and that I needed some sleep. I stumbled out as I walked to the other side of the hall to Ethan’s room. I stood there for a second before I knocked on the know a couple times gently.

“Come in.” I heard his gruff voice say. I walked in quietly. He was sprawled out on the bed, but then he stood up and looked at me. “Hey.” He said softly

“Hey.” I responded looking around the room. Nothing had really changed except that the blunt was gone and he had a new bottle of liquor on his bedside table. I saw he made a pallet on the floor. I walked over, but he stopped me.

“No I’ll sleep here. You can have my bed.” He offered. I chuckled at his gesture.

“How noble of you.” I smiled.

“What? I maybe a drug lord, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t raised to be chivalrous.” We both laughed. I lied down on the bed and wrapped myself within the covers. Ethan was on the floor, but I couldn’t sleep. I leaned over the side and saw his eyes were closed.

“Ethan.” I whispered. “Ethan.” I whispered louder to where he woke up and locked his eyes with mine.

“What’s wrong Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just can’t sleep.” I admitted with a sigh.

“Scoot over.” Ethan stood up and I did as I was told. Ethan crawled under the covers with me while I lied against his body. His chest was warm against my back. This was wrong, but why did it feel so right?


Part 7

Good Girl Ch 44: First Day of Summer

Mid-June

I burry myself deeper into the massive pile of pillows when I hear someone come in. I’m happy where I am, warm, half asleep, and not out of bed at seven in the morning. But that does not seem to matter to my daddies who seemed to have woken up at the crack of dawn for a meeting in the kitchen or something that I was not invited to, not that I wanted to go. I was actually kind of hoping that they would just leave me here when they left, even though I don’t want to be alone, I also don’t want to get up.

It’s the first official day of summer and they for some reason expect me to get out of bed and be ready to go by 8. Though I shouldn’t complain, once we get to the office nothing will actually be expected of me other than to eat breakfast and not get into trouble. But still when someone pulls the covers away from me I can’t help but groan.

“Come on baby,” Chanyeol coos as he gently tugs on my ankle.

“But daddy,” I whine.

“Are you being naughty?” His voice is suddenly an octave lower. I suddenly pop up in bed with a pout on my face. He just chuckles, “So I take it you don’t want to be punished again?” I shake my head, my ass still hurts from two nights ago when I got a little mouthy with Chanyeol and got a couple of spankings in return. I need to remind myself that him, Kris, Xiumin, and Suho are not the one’s to mouth off to. “What do you want to wear? Comfy or stylish?”

I cock a brow at him, “Are you really giving me the option?”

“A pencil skirt it is!” He beams at me pulling an outfit from behind his back.

I glare at him.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll have a pair of sweat pants in your backpack for you to change into once we get upstairs. Now come on,” He holds a large hand out to me and pulls me to him. I stand up on the bed and begin to bounce happily making the giant smile, “Are you having fun?” I nod.

“I’m finally taller than you,” I grin at him.

“Chanyeol,” Kris scolds, “I thought you were coming to get her ready.”

The shorter of the two giants pouts, “I was trying but she started playing and she’s just too cute to stop.” They both look at me as I continue to bounce around on the giant bed like an idiot.

Kris tries to hide the smile on his face and be a strict daddy, “Joo-ya, you need to get dressed so we can go.” I sigh and stop bouncing right in front of Chanyeol. With my hands on his wide shoulders he helps me into my blush colored skirt and flowing cream top. Kris is carrying matching shoes that he insists that he puts on for me. I don’t put up a fight, I just sit down on the edge and let the tall man slip the cream heels on my feet. He offers me a hand that I quickly accept. We meet the others in the foyer, they are all in neat suits varying in color but they are all unbelievably handsome. They greet me sweetly with kisses and hugs before Kris escorts me to his car.

Tao, Luhan, and Lay join us, they talk on the way, though I’m still a bit tired from my, um, exciting night with Chanyeol. I wish I had taken Luhan up on his offer just to cuddle instead so I could be more excited for them. For most of them this is their first look into how their more legal side of business. We arrive at the building where Kris parks in front only to hand his keys over to one of three neatly dressed valet, or assistant or something. Suho pulls up behind us followed by Chen. I wait for a very crabby Sehun to lead me to the top floor along with everyone else. We step into a familiar lobby that I haven’t been allowed to visit ever since I met Jiyong, though I can’t really blame them since trouble seems to follow me whenever I’m out of their sight. Jinyoung, Jaebum, and Mark are there to greet everyone bowing at a complete 90-degree angle. I wave at them happily.

“Good morning,” They say together.

“Morning,” I greet back happily.

“I’m going to take her down stairs and get her settled, Suho, come along.” Xiumin decides as he takes my hand from the younger boy and pulls me back into the elevator before anyone has the chance to argue, Suho is able to slip in at the last second. The older looks at me with a small smile, “How are you feeling baby?”

I yawn, “Tired, though I shouldn’t be complaining, I’m not the one who has to work all day.” They both chuckle as we step off the elevator, to my surprise we are actually a floor higher. My jaw drops at the massive open room in front of me. The first thing that catches my eye is beyond the floor to ceiling windows on the patio.

“Is that a pool?” I grin excitedly.

“Yes, but those doors will be locked unless one of us is up here with you,” Suho says sternly drawing my attention back to him. “You are able to get snacks from the kitchen but no cooking, Kyungsoo will know if you even try to boil water.” I sigh at the truth in his words, Kyungsoo has weird 6th sense when it comes to me doing anything I’m not supposed be doing. “There is a bedroom threw those doors that you are allowed to sleep in to your hearts content. The universal remote is like the one at home so you already know how to use that. If you feel like changing there is a few extra outfits in the closet in the bedroom along with extra blankets if you get cold.”

I nod as he continues his rules and explanations. My eyes scan over the room finding each thing he is talking about. There is a double set of doors on the wall to my right, which I’m guessing leads to the bedroom and bathroom. In the beautiful kitchen that is in the corner I see a tablet that I’m guessing in the remote along with a basket of snacks that are ready for me. The long dining room table is already set for lunch so there goes the idea of me setting it. Two massive L-shaped couches are in the middle of the room with a soft looking rug on the white marble floor. Everything is light colored, grays, blues, and white with a few splashes of other colors here and there.

“We will come up for lunch everyday so don’t snack around noon. We are just a floor away or you can call or text us if you need anything. Our assistants are also there for a last resort if you need something and we are in a meeting. I’ll post our schedule on the fridge so you can know where we are all the time.”

Xiumin finally chimes in with some annoying news, “If we ever have to go to a meeting at a different building you will be coming along. Even though this place has the best security, I prefer it when you are close by, so no whining about sitting threw meetings with us.”

I sigh but nod.

“Good girl.”

“Also,” Suho clears his throat, “There is one more thing we need to discuss.” He pulls me deeper into the apartment and sits me down on one of the couches, Xiumin sits on my other side. “Jiyong talked about how his building is only a few blocks away and asked if on Tuesdays you could go over after lunch. He said he would bring you home by ten if we agreed, so I was wondering how you would feel about that.”

I shrug, “Sounds fine to me.”

“Of course it does,” Xiumin grumbles.

I turn to face him and take his hands in mine, “Daddy don’t start with this. I’m saying yes because Jiyong is my friend and I want to spend time with him. Jihyo is out of the country the whole summer and you won’t let me hang out with my other friends alone so Jiyong is the only person I have to talk to.”

“So you can’t talk to us?”

“Daddy, you need to stop looking for reasons to be upset. All I’m saying is that you guys can go out and talk to who ever you want. I have all of you guys and I love talking to you guys but sometimes it’s nice to talk to have a friend to talk to about this stuff. So please do not get mad.”

He sighs but nods.

“Good Daddy.”


The next day

“Do we have to let her go?” Chanyeol whines.

“Daddy, don’t you dare start that fight again!” I try to scoot away from the red haired boy but his grip around my waist tightens.

“Fine, I won’t, just finish your lunch before you go.” Chanyeol pulls me back into his lap and pulls my half full plate of pasta closer. I take my fork and begin slowly eating the rest on my plate. By the time I’m done it’s time for them to go back to work and time for me to go meet Jiyong who is meeting me down in the lobby. I wave goodbye to daddies as they load into the elevator when they are gone I go to the bedroom to change out of the nice dress Soo put on me this morning. After pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt I shuffle to the elevator. Down in the lobby I expect to find Jiyong waiting for me but instead I’m greeted by the judging stares of the receptionists. I give them my own glare before walking straight outside, completely ignoring the nagging in the back of my mind that my daddies would kill me for doing such a small thing. Outside I still don’t find Jiyong but instead hear someone whistling at me.

“Yoo who, pretty bird,” A familiar voice calls. I turn around to see my joker smiling at me mischievously. A giant grin spreads on my face as I rush over to greet him.

“Long time no see.”

“Yea, I thought you hated me when I left you my number in that card and you didn’t call or text,” He huffs as she shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry, my oppas are really strict with who I talk to and you would definitely not pass their background check.”

“I take offense to that.”

“I’m also pretty sure I wouldn’t pass it either so don’t feel so special.” He just laughs. “What brings you here?”

“I’m your escort.”

I click my tongue at that, “What is a hitman doing as a babysitter?”

“I’m just a body for hire, regardless of the job, I go where the money is. And I just happen to be so lucky to have the money lead to you,” He grins.

“Okay than escort, lets get going.” He nods and holds his elbow out to me, I laugh but interlock our arms as we wander down the street. “So how did you swing this job? Was is seriously luck of the draw or did you know you would be watching me?”

“The job was offered to my whole team but I was the one to volunteer to do it.”

I nod, “Why?”

He hums mindlessly for a minute, it’s that song again, the one he was humming those four months ago. I find it just as comforting as I did before. “I enjoy you. I have no interest in you sexually, incase you were worried about that, but your attitude is just magnetic to me.”

“I seem to have that effect on people.”

“So this is going to be a weekly thing right? What is this, a custody trade or something?”

I laugh, “Basically, but Jiyong usually picks me up himself. I was a bit surprised to find you. I feel a little offended that he would just hand over my escort to a random hitman he doesn’t even know. No offense.”

“I understand, but don’t underestimate me pretty bird. I’m the best at my job and I always get it done, no matter what.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He smiles down at me, “I like my client to be as relaxed as possible.”

“Don’t say that, I feel like you’re going to kill me or something.”

“Don’t you worry pretty bird, killing you is not on my list.” He stops in his tracks and steps away from me. “Looks like we’re here.”

I look up confused but he’s right we are in front of Jiyong’s building. “Wow that was fast.”

“I know a few short cuts, I’ll remember to take the long way next time so we can talk more, but until then have a good week.” Without another word he turns and leaves. What a strange guy.

I shuffle inside, expecting the same hostile reaction I get from the receptionists at my daddies company but instead they bow deeply at the sight of me. They make me feel like a princess as they basically escort me up stairs to his office where he is sitting behind his desk focused completely on the work in front of him. I smile when he doesn’t even look up from the papers just grumbles something about needing coffee. I don’t fight him on it, I just slip out and ask his handsome assistant where I would get him coffee.

“Oh please let me get it Miss,” He basically begs as I find my way to the little kitchen he has in a hidden room behind his desk.

“It’s fine Mino.”

I brew the coffee quickly with the tall, tan man hanging over my shoulder. When I’m done I bring two cups of coffee with cream and sugar on a tray back to his office. I don’t bother knocking or announcing myself, I just waltz up to Jiyong’s massive desk and set the tray down.

“It’s proper to announce yourself when you enter someone’s office,” He sighs.

“It’s also proper to greet those who enter your office,” I snap back playfully.

He looks up with a big smile, “Beautiful! I didn’t know you were here.” He stands up and greets me properly with a hug. “How was your morning?”

“It was good, I had an exciting lunch with my daddies and a nice talk with my escort.”

He nods, “Let me just gather my things and we can go.”

“Go?” I cock my head, “Don’t you have to work?”

He scoffs, “I have you one day a week and you think I’m going to waste my time with you at work?”

“Where are we going?”

“To have fun.”