#i've accepted that what i am is like the wind and ever changing

[cashasideas]

"I feel like my real name sometimes. Sometimes I don't. So my name changes sometimes. What about you?"

"No? You don't?"

"Why not? It's just like changing clothes. You like to change, don't you?"

[ifyoucandaniel]

I want to thank you for making your list of recommended long batfam fics. I have been making my way through it and I am really enjoying them! ESPECIALLY cards on the table (I also love Dark Matter but I had already read it). Please let us know if you ever get more long batfam fic recs 🥺

okay so ive been waiting to answer this until i had gathered a good chunk of new long fics and ive been getting a lot of similar messages asking for recommendations, so here is another list of my fav long batman fics!

Jason and the Three Terrors by @cdelphiki, 220k, ongoing, T. if i can get you to read one thing, let it be this. ohhh my god where to even begin, this is a fic where jason stays with the league after his dip in the lazarus pit for a little while and winds up being charged with getting damian, his cousin, and his sister out of the league safely. this fic is just so fucking good, cdelphiki always writes such seamless relationship growth and watching jason go from "im dropping these brats off first chance i get" to "im a single mother of three and i need to provide for my kids" is phenomenal. 1000/10, the writing, the kids, the relationships, please do yourself a favor and read this.

A Collision of Masks by Movaz, 169k, completed, T. !! guys. this is such a good dick grayson-centric fic. this is set in an AU where batman never joined the justice league so the justice league knows very little about batman inc. and consequently dick never joins YJ so the YJ team is tasked with checking out a new hero called nightwing in bludhaven and police officer grayson is tasked with helping the team in their investigation :) really good fic exploring dick juggling all his identities and finally gaining people he can rely on! i actually did a bind of it so you know i love this story so much

Life Happens by @cdelphiki, 176k, complete, G. ok so this fic is probably one of the most beautiful stories of growth and love i've read. its about tim and damian being transported from their world into ours where they're only comic book characters and they start to build a life for themselves here. cdelphiki is one of the most amazing authors, im currently going through all of their works, but this one has just stayed with me and i dont think anyone should pass it up. watching tim and damian grow together and seeing damian have a real childhood and just the whole concept of life happening wether you want it to or not is so beautifully done. cannot recommend enough.

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O, completed, 14k, T. okay this isnt actually a long fic, but its one of my favorite fics ever and i need it on this list. if you're like me and you love UTRH aus where instead of sticking around as red hood after bruce threw a batarang at his throat jason fucks off and disappears to live a normal life, this is for you. from dick's pov, he realizes jasons last letter was a last attempt at reaching out and stalks him until he finds out what really happened to his little brother. i think about this every day and wish it was 10000 words long

The Time Before by @cdelphiki, 80k, completed, G. at this point this is basically just a cdelphiki fic rec lmao when i said everything by them was good, i meant that shit. this is a fic where jason is sent back into time when he was 9 years old but still has all his memories from the future. he goes to bruce for help despite wanting to do literally anything else and is surprised to realize maybe everything isn't how he remembers it 10 years in the future and maybe theres a chance he can go home when hes older again. once again cdelphiki hitting me in the feels with this one, really amazing study on how time and pain can change how you perceive and remember things and also just forgiveness and fixing mistakes and accepting mistakes were made. very good, highly recommend

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by Sophene, 80k, completed, batlantern, T. I have no excuse for this, this is such a fun and funny fic i love it so much. basically HOA president single dad bruce with his 10 million adopted kids and then hal jordan moves in next door and plays his music too loud at 10pm on a school night and throws parties and bruce has a stick up his ass about it. i really really love the shift in hal when kyle comes to live with him as his ward (? i cant actually remember if hes adopted or just a ward) and seeing him finally understand why bruce acts the way he does when it comes to his kids. also seeing bruce just being a tired dad 90% of the fic when he isnt glaring at hal is so good.

Option C by CasualGeek, 78k, completed, T. this has, in my opinion, a very unique and interesting premise. basically, what if instead of becoming red hood, jason comes back to gotham and manages to get Joker put on trial for the murder of sheila haywood and get the insanity plea thrown out. really interesting approach to batman and joker and jason technically doing things through the legal justice system and what that means for him and the people around him. very good, read it all in one sitting

butcherbird, fly away home by e_va, 41k, completed, M. lost days jason todd loml! basically what if when jason was off on his world tour one of his tutors kidnapped bruce wayne and jason has feelings about it against his will. "what if lost days jason was stuck in the same room as a sick bruce for more than 10 minutes and actually had to talk to him without punching him" AU and i throughly enjoyed it. @darlingatlas recommended this one and she never misses with the jason recs

this kind of weather by r_astra, 55k, completed, T. this is the fic something in the static was originally inspired by and if you know me, i love that series, and i love this fic too. another what if jasons mom didnt die until later and social services gets involved before he can bolt and bruce seeks him out with some very interesting news. i love fics that display jason’s relationship with crime alley and him being one of them. very good, i love jason so much

ok now these aren't actually long fics but i need to get them out here because i love them so much and highly recommend!

To My Brother by a_silly_gander, 7k, completed, T. Lost days jason au where he starts sending post cards from his travels to dick on a whim while we follow his time away and the people he meets. i love this one so much, please read it if you love jason and dick, its so special to me.

Enhanced Fashion Sense is a Perk of Being a Cat by 12pt_timesnewromanfont, 23k, complete, G. selina breaks into drake manor to steal a cat artifact and accidentally meets the drakes ten year old son they left home alone. then she starts keeping tabs on him and eventually adopts him and makes him stray. i really love selina finding tim before bruce and taking care of him <3 10/10 i wish selina would adopt me

[heartless-tate]

Hi! If I may be so self indulgent and request something... 👉🏻👈🏻

Reader being a (for lack of better words) boring person. They're good at blending in within social circles but never standing out or having a circle or friend of their own. Good laughing at jokes but can't come up with good ones or even if they did, they don't have the courage to tell them outright. They're very much a chicken when it comes to expressing themselves as an individual because they're never comfortable enough around anyone. They are a chicken in general, to be honest. This essentially (and sadly) leaves them as an NPC in their own life. And they've accepted it, trying to come to terms with a life of extreme mediocrity. They're actively trying to push down any need of wanting more from life 99% of days.

However, when you're good at listening, you observe things much better and you learn things faster. And subconsciously, reader has been observing a lot of things about Velaris (including the IC). I'm not sure where this would lead but this is probably the only real skill they have; being a good observer and learner.

I leave the rest to you. I was thinking pairing them with Azriel (since he would probably understand her better) but I'm open to any modifications.

Also, just an afterthought, I've always wondered what job I would love to have in a fantasy world (and I don't know if this counts as an actual job) but something like observing the sky/stars to look for any forthcoming events sounds really cool. So I guess reader could do that since major events happen don't happen once in a hundred years or something which ultimately makes their job very boring. However, they love it because who wouldn't love spending their whole night star-gazing (potential date idea?? YESS).

Sorry this became way longer than I intended. I wouldn't judge if you chose not to write on it. Thanks & have a great day :)

Am I boring? | Azriel X boring F reader

A/N: Hiii! Tysm for your ask. I hope I captured what you were imagining right. 💖

summary: You’re a star mapper. And you’re boring with no hope of love. Or at least you believed that until Azriel came along.

1.2k words

warnings: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, cussing??, romance?? That’s it?? I think?

The stars shined brighter tonight. Since you were a little girl, you had always been fascinated by them. How they sparkled. They were interesting, and beautiful- unlike you. Maybe that’s why you clung onto them.

You pulled a piece of parchment from your bag, and started mapping the stars. Rhysand, the highlord of the night court, had invited you to his court to observe and map stars from this  part of the world. You accepted, wanting some change. Even if you knew it wouldn’t be much of a difference to you. The inner circle was more than nice to you, and you appreciated it.

Laughter bubbled from behind you. You currently sat with your telescope on the balcony of the House of Wind. This was your third week here. Rhysand had offered you a permanent place here in the night court, but you were yet to accept. You didn’t fit in. You were a background character. A random star mapper, a job would probably never be much of use to anyone. Except weird star fanatics. Aka you. You were sure he only offered you a place here because of pity.

The inner circle seemed to really like you, and whether that was because of your quiet and shy nature, or the fact you always listened and gave great advice, or the fact you always laughed to try and fit in even if you didn’t quite understand the joke, you didn’t know. The only one who seemed to see past your mask of people pleasing was the Shadowsinger.

Anytime you ‘laughed’ at Cassian’s jokes, he was always there, smirking with a known look at you. As if he knew you. As if he had known you your whole life. Azriel had seemed curious about you. It was uncomfortable. Nobody had ever been curious about you. Everyone always enjoyed someone that they could talk to about themselves for hours. But he was the one always interrupting the other members of the inner circle to question you, on you. And your own life. And sadly you didn’t have many answers other than, “oh I don’t know.”

It made you feel weird at how interested he seemed in you. It made you feel awkward. But you knew he would lose interest once he really discovered there wasn’t actually much to you. You were a bore.

“Those stars are named Arktos, Carynth, and Oristes. They shine above that mountain for a week once a year during the blood rite.” A voice said beside you. You flinched as you noticed Azriel sitting directly by you, his shadows swirling around you both. He was always appearing out of nowhere. He handed you a plate of cake.

“Courtesy of Elain. She baked dessert tonight.” Azriel said, lifting a bite of his cake to his mouth and chewing on it.

“Oh.” You responded, setting the plate down beside you. You quickly labeled the stars on your parchment. They were beautiful.

“Do you like cake?” He questioned.

You paused and stared blank at him.

“I’m not sure?” You responded, fiddling with your hands. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Azriel smiled at you knowingly. Loud laughter boomed from the room behind you two. He looked right at you with piercing amber eyes that seemed annoyed. As if he had noticed you flinching from the loud sounds.

“Come with me? Just trust me.” He whispered, grasping your hand gently with caution. It was sudden. And you weren’t sure. You didn’t know him much. How could you trust him? But something in your body and soul screamed yes. Why not? It was risky- but life was boring.

“Okay.” You responded, gasping as he pulled you close, his wings wrapping you close to him, and his shadows swarming around you both before all of a sudden you were now standing on a cliff. Oh gods. His hands were on your hips gently, his wings spread wide, letting you see the view.

You both stood on a cliff that overlooked a waterfall and river. The moon reflected in the water and the stars did too, creating a mirror effect. It was probably the most gorgeous sight you had ever seen.

“Its- it’s…” Your words fumbled, mouth open in shock. “Beautiful..” you whispered. His breath was hot against your ear.

“Very.” He whispered back. When you looked at him he wasn’t even looking at the view. His eyes were glued on you. And he was looking at you as if you were a goddess. Azriel’s eyes softened, with adoration. It scared you. Nobody had ever looked at you like that. With a blush you realized he was holding you like a lover. He smirked at you as if knowing you just realized it.

Azriel slowly let go and used his wing to guide you to turn around. Blankets and pillows were on the ground. Like a picnic but a nest. His shadows swirled excitedly around the set up. He guided you gently to the set up, helping you sit down before sitting beside you.

“Do you want your mapping materials? My shadows can retrieve them for you. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to just relax and enjoy this night or continue star mapping.” He murmured.

You thought for a second. This was odd. Was this a date? Or did he do this with all of his friends? Did you want to map or did you want to enjoy this night with him?

“No it’s okay.” You replied, eyes glued to the stars above. They were much clearer from this view then from the House of Wind. You guess the city lights blurred them out. But here? They were in their full glory.

“Why did you bring me here?” He seemed to pause before responding. 

“My shadows told me you might be leaving soon. This is my attempt at convincing you to stay here. In the night court. With your mate.” Azriel confessed.

He watched your eyebrows furrow.

“Mate? I don’t have a mate-“ you panicked.

His wings cocooned you and his arm enveloped you. It was like he could sense your panic. He rocked you back and forth like a child. And it was comforting.

“I’m your mate. I’ve known since I’ve met you. I thought I would have more time to get to know you and the bond would snap for you, but then my shadows informed me of your soon departure.”

You swallowed, throat bobbing. You blinked a few times. “There isn’t anything about me to get to know.” You replied harshly. Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Shadows swirled around you both, some tendrils caressing you.

“Don’t say that. I know it isn’t true. Everyday I learn something new about you. I don’t care what you say, you are the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” He said, words much louder and firmer now. He thinks you’re interesting?

“Stay. Stay with me. Let me get to know you. I don’t expect you to accept the bond anytime soon. But give me- give us a chance.” Azriel said, wings tightening around you both. His eyes bore into you, with a fierce and loving look in them. You couldn’t help but soften in his hold.

You realized then, you deserved love. And for once a belonging feeling overwhelmed your senses.

“I’ll stay.”

Hope you guys enjoyed 💗

[onlycosmere]

Brandon Sanderson on the length of Wind and Truth

PumkinFunk:  I appreciate Brandon being self-aware about the fact that he will struggle immensely to keep the word counts down for this series.

KiwiKajitsu: If only he had a better editor

PumkinFunk:  I know this has become a common criticism since Rhythm of War after Moshe Feder retired, but I don't think it's true. One of his editors for his books is Devi Pillai, the head of Tor Publishing Group. The Secret Projects were edited in-house and generally were good. He has a lot of people giving him feedback, both in-house and outside.

jmcgit:  If Brandon wanted to work on revisions for an extra 6 months to refine and streamline the book, he could do it. This is a Brandon thing, not an editor thing. What was Brandon working on up until the last minute before he had to turn the book in? He was working on making the book bigger, squeezing in more content that he wanted to add. Brandon will tell anyone who asks that he likes to write, and dislikes revising.

When an author gets big enough, the publishers and editors lose their ability to rein in the author or make certain demands. Brandon will do what he wants, and if Tor doesn't like it, they can cancel his contract and Brandon can self-publish.

Brandon Sanderson: I realize it's difficult to see behind the veil of publishing, and much is opaque, but this isn't what I was doing during the last few months--I was cutting the book significantly. However, rough draft didn't include Interludes or Epigraphs, which is why it got longer after I cut it down. This draft lost over 60k words, but then I added in the interludes and epigraphs (along with a few key scenes I decided were needed.)

So, let's be clear about a few things. No editor has ever--in my life--cut my books down. It's not what they do. They largely haven't suggested it. Every editor, Moshe included, has always suggested things to change or add--they don't do much trimming. That's all my job, and always has been. Yes, there is a line edit, which does help trim--but I haven't stopped taking those suggestions, and usually go much, much further on a page-by-page case than they suggest.

I dislike revision, which is important for me to explain because I want people to understand that even for someone who loves their job, there are parts I don't like. But I DO it. I do A LOT of it. It's the part I have to force myself to do, but I am very good at it--and if you follow my stories about learning revision, you'll find that I very clearly explain that I didn't get published until I mastered the thing that was hardest for me. I consider my it, perhaps, my greatest strength as a writer--my ability to look at feed back and apply it to improve books.

If they get long, it's not because I've lost an editor. Moshe's strong suit was always diction, not trimming--and Gillian (who does that job now) is quite accomplished at both. She's Joe Abercrombie's editor.

I realize it's odd, because "to edit" means to trim, but an editor doesn't usually trim books--they offer suggestions for changes on the larger scope, and sometimes do a line edit pass to clarify.

Stormlight books are not big because I can't stop writing. You can pick any number of my shorter novels and see I'm quite capable of doing something at a normal book length. Stormlight books are big because that's the art I want to make--and they are not, and never have been, out of control. I am perfectly willing to accept that the story I want to tell has not appealed to some in the last installments! But don't blame my editors. This is an artistic choice of mine, and their job has never been to change the art. I get the same amount of editing now as I ever have--and I take largely the same amount of their feedback.

Note: don't take this as a direct condemnation of you or some of the things /u/KiwiKajitsu said above. It's more that I want to be very clear about my goals, and the process. My stance is one of explaining, not arguing against your opinions, as those are valid and perfectly reasonable ones to hold.

I realize that a long comment reply isn't the best way to prove I can be brief, but I sincerely think the trope of "He got big so he lost the ability to be edited" is not one that I fall into--I am, if anything, the most edited person at the industry, and see more criticism and feedback of my books prepublication than any other author. Editors and beta readers collectively wrote some 800k words of feedback for me over the last two years, which I incorporate. Not just the, "Add this" but also the "this sequence feels slow or unengaging." I am extremely passionate about listening to, and incorporating, editorial feedback.

It's fine to not like what I do. But don't blindly make the argument that I write it, kick it out the door, and don't pay attention to the revision process while ignoring editors.

jmcgit: Hey Brandon, I appreciate the insight! I regret that my post may have come off as if you carelessly "write and kick it out the door", as I know how hard you and your team have been working on the book over the past months and years, and how passionate you are about getting it right.

Brandon Sanderson: No problem and no offense taken! I just see a lot of confusion about these things.

I am edited far, far more now than when I was when I started and nobody cared. Though, admittedly, I think the most editorial scrutiny I ever got was on A Memory of Light a decade ago. I probably get less now, but I also have way more extensive beta reads.

It's just a complex process. And, you also ARE right in your initial post that I could go over it again and again, and some authors do. I'm middle of the road on the number of revisions I do, by my experience. Not as many as someone like Pat R. does. More than a lot of authors. I do not subscribe to the Heinline philosophy of only editing when required by contract that is very popular these days. (This philosophy believes that your initial artistic instinct will be right, and you shouldn't undermine it later on. I am not a fan, even if some people I respect follow this philosophy.)

Anyway, your initial post wasn't far off; I just wanted to offer some more context for this thread.

[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[bigforeheadbaddie]

Fiona Apple when she has to opt out of performing for personal reasons:

“It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet.

I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog Janet, and she's been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now.I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then ,an adult officially – and she was my child.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight ,or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact.

We've lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it's always really been the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all of this, she's effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago.

She's my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now.

When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand.

If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us.

I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship.

I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend.

And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone.

I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time.

I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.

And I am asking for your blessing.I'll be seeing you.

Love, Fiona”

———————————————————————

Chappell Roan when she gets flamed on the internet for claiming to have done her research and then promptly mispronounces the current Vice President’s (very simple) name:

[theroundbartable]

The weapons of populism

There is something very interesting I've learned the past couple weeks. Both through watching the American election and talking to both Trump and Harris supporters in comments.

I am someone who is easily manipulated, so I do keep an eye out for the methods people are using on me and I'll try to show you how this affects me mentally.

As most leftists, I've been taught to question arguments, I've been taught to provide evidence to my claims and to even question that evidence. What I wasn't taught is how to properly weaponize that power.

Leftists are tend to infighting within their own bubbles. We're doubting each other and that's what's helping us question ourselves and finding new solutions to problems. And we can accept when we're wrong.

This does not work on the right wing. Right wing voters aren't to be disenchanted. Actual right wing populists won't change their minds. But people who watch your debate in silence might.

The Right wing's goal isn't to learn anything, their goal is only to win the argument. By any means possible to look appealing to people who sway in their opinion and are searching for a strong role model to follow. And who doesn't want to be on the winning side?

So, they will use the power you've been taught, and they will use your own tools to paint you as a liar.

They discredit your sources. The people they are trying to convince aren't expected to check the sources. If you provide a source, this is ammunition for them, because all they have to say is 'the Link doesn't work' or 'you haven't understood your own source' and then they have won. Because what are you going to say to that? That you're unable to question your source? You have to explain your own source in a long winded text? Are you going to say: 'no, YOU didn't get the source!'?

They will insult or infantilize you. They will call you a child or to grow up. This is a distraction. It puts them in a higher position than you, so anything you say after will sound like you're throwing a tantrum.

They will refuse to provide evidence or sources. Not only for the reason above. Last thing I was confronted with used the line: 'It's not my job to educate you'. That is, in populism circles, a powerful tool. Because it makes you look stupid, it makes your attempts to educate them look like you're desperate. I had someone actually trying to tell me that my source wasn't credible because it was the first thing I found on google. You know? Like evidence becomes more credible when it's impossible to find.

Right wing populists can't be disenchanted. I've watched an entire hour of a German Youtuber called Dekarldent trying to talk to a Nazi by showing him facts. Fashists don't care about facts.

They won't budge from their claims. You've discredited them? Congratulations, two arguments later, they will circle back and use the same bs argument again.

The agenda. The person I talked to accused me of just following an agenda. The irony is that they were defending Agenda 47. The word agenda in a normal sentence is negatively connotated, so it makes you look like a mindless sheep who's just repeating what they heard somewhere else. Combined with you using sources to prove your claims, it makes you look stupid.

Using famous people as 'source'. This is not evidence and it's not something they need evidence for because the quotes they use are usually correct and well known. That alone makes them credible but they usually miss context. Quoting Trump as a 'credible' source is the most pathetic thing I've ever seen, but it's happened to me before.

And lastly, because I'm counting these off my head, hypocrisy.

The tools above can be used in a colorful mixture of idiocy but they are often one thing: hypocritical.

While they refuse to provide evidence, they will expect you to give them sources. While quoting people who are the reason why X (Twitter) added the feature to fact check posts, they will tell you your own quotes are said by liars. Or that you're a liar. Whichever fits them best at the moment. They will tell you you're not budging from your own claims because you're a radical when actually they've given you no reason to change your stand. Calling someone childish in an adult argument with scientific evidence is a tantrum. They will also, most likely, call you a hypocrite.

They are and they do what they accuse you of.

I'm not going to tell you how to confront them. I'm just trying to show you the effect these people have. You can be 100% in the right and still feel like you're losing the argument.

I wanted to provide you some insight on how that feels. And how I think swaying parties look at this kind of warfare. Use this knowledge wisely.

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 23: That Satisfaction Due From One Gentleman To Another

[Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

Charles sits his uncle down and tells him his secret plan: he intends to duel Varney. The admiral thinks this is a fantastic plan, to the point of wanting to also duel Varney, but Charles asks him not to, and to instead look after Flora financially if anything should happen to him. The admiral agrees; he also agrees to be Charles' second in the duel, and Charles writes out a formal challenge for him to deliver to Varney. The admiral leaves, along with Jack Pringle, on his errand.

While he is gone, Charles works himself up thinking about dueling Varney, including making plans for how to keep him from coming back in case he really is a vampire. He reflects that, based on the appearance of the portrait, Varney must be around 150 years old, and marvels at the thought of what he must have witnessed in that time. Finally, he resolves that his duel with Varney must surely be life or death - either Varney dies, or he does.

Admiral Bell meets with Varney and delivers the challenge. Varney casually insinuates that he will kill Charles if they duel. The Admiral now reveals his own secret plan, which is to offer to duel Varney in his nephew's stead. Varney points out that this is highly unusual, but agrees. He continues to talk as though the death of his opponent is a foregone conclusion, and insists on using swords, which the admiral is peeved by. Varney winds the admiral up a bunch with his usual brand of mannerly insults before sending him on his way.

Oh baby, the DUELS are here. Let's fucking go.

Charles' written challenge to Varney is the most hilariously roundabout way of saying "I want to fight you" I think I've ever read.

"To SIR FRANCIS VARNEY. "Sir,—The expressions made use of towards me by you, as well as general circumstances, which I need not further allude to here, induce me to demand of you that satisfaction due from one gentleman to another. My uncle, Admiral Bell, is the bearer of this note, and will arrange preliminaries with any friend you may choose to appoint to act in your behalf. I am, sir, yours, &c. "CHARLES HOLLAND."

This is so vague. The first sentence of this could just as easily be asking Varney out. (Imagine.)

The admiral is acting slightly suspicious as he accepts the letter; secretly, he's plotting to challenge Varney in Charles' stead. Once he's gone, Charles is left to stew in the pre-duel anticipation, which I imagine is about the same feeling I get when I have to make a phone call.

Rymer seems, at times, almost resentful of the fact that there's a vampire in his vampire story about vampires. It's the way he talks about the characters like they're being silly for believing in vampires, in his story he's written about a world which contains real vampires.

It was strange to imagine that such was the force of many concurrent circumstances, that a young man like Charles Holland, of first-rate abilities and education, should find it necessary to give in so far to a belief which was repugnant to all his best feelings and habits of thought, as to be reasoning with himself upon the best means of preventing the resuscitation of the corpse of a vampyre.

Yeah of course he should find it necessary to believe in vampires in your fucking vampire novel, Rymer, what do you WANT from him.

I'm convinced, by now, that the author has no conception of how long a hundred years is. First there was all that business about rates of decay, in which he was convinced that a coffin sealed in a stone vault for a hundred years would decay away to nothing, and now, well...

"That portrait," he thought, "on the panel, is the portrait of a man in the prime of life. If it be the portrait of Sir Francis Varney, by the date which the family ascribe to it he must be nearly one hundred and fifty years of age now." This was a supposition which carried the imagination to a vast amount of strange conjectures. "What changes he must have witnessed about him in that time," thought Charles. "How he must have seen kingdoms totter and fall, and how many changes of habits, of manners, and of customs must he have become a spectator of."

150 years is only about two lifetimes, it's not like he witnessed the collapse of the Roman Empire. What kingdoms are you talking about? (This gets even sillier if we assume the story is set in the late 18th/early 19th century, as is insinuated at one point, because in that case Charles himself would have been alive for multiple revolutions.)

It would be aside from the object of these pages, which is to record facts as they occurred,

Oh, is it now, Rymer? Is it really? What important facts were being recorded when you went on a tangent about construction projects in Kent? Or when you paused the narrative to soapbox about religion for multiple paragraphs? Or the entirety of chapter 19?

The admiral knew well he could trust Jack with any secret, for long habits of discipline and deference to the orders of superiors takes off the propensity to blabbing which, among civilians who are not accustomed to discipline, is so very prevalent.

This is just...patently not true about Jack. Also further revealing of Rymer's shitty beliefs, which we've seen earlier in the form of the Bannerworth's servants gossiping about the vampire attack to the entire surrounding countryside. This "poor people be gossiping" idea keeps getting worse throughout the story, too.

"Confound the fellow!" muttered the old admiral, "he is well lodged at all events. I should say he was not one of those sort of vampyres who have nowhere to go to but their own coffins when the evening comes."

An interesting statement coming from the guy who keeps getting vampires mixed up with mermaids. Many of the vampire superstitions raised in the story are not true within its worldbuilding, but I like to imagine there are indeed vampires of the coffin-dwelling sort in the Varneyverse, and Varney simply isn't one of them. (Or he is, and that's why he can never get a peaceful night's sleep.)

Now we reach a real treat: Admiral Bell and Varney interacting. You will recall that Varney loves winding people up until they snap, and that Admiral Bell is already perpetually wound up. A conversation between them, therefore, ought to be incredibly entertaining, and it does not disappoint.

"Why, he is a young man just, as you say, entering into life, and I cannot help thinking it would be a pity to cut him off like a flower in the bud, so very soon." "Oh, you make quite sure, then, of settling him, do you?" "My dear sir, only consider; he might be very troublesome, indeed; you know young men are hot-headed and troublesome. Even if I were only to maim him, he might be a continual and never-ceasing annoyance to me. I think I should be absolutely, in a manner of speaking, compelled to cut him off." "The devil you do!" "As you say, sir."

(First speaker Varney, second Admiral Bell)

Varney remains pleasant and good-natured throughout the conversation, which only serves to wind up the admiral all the more. He's also being an annoying little shit, of course, which doesn't help. Behind it all, however, is a fairly serious threat. Varney isn't simply confident in his ability to kill any challenger, he takes it as an obvious fact.

"Ay, with swords; but I must have everything properly arranged, so that no blame can rest on me, you know. As you will be killed, you are safe from all consequences, but I shall be in a very different position; so, if you please, I must have this meeting got up in such a manner as shall enable me to prove, to whoever may question me on the subject, that you had fair play."

Speaking of swords, we get more witty vampire insinuations from Varney.

"I cling to the customs and the fashions of my youth," said Varney. "I have been, years ago, accustomed always to wear a sword, and to be without one now vexes me." "Pray, how many years ago?" "I am older than I look, but that is not the question."

I never get tired of him doing this.

And now...okay, I know the purpose of this series is to keep people from having to read Varney the Vampire, and pasting in huge chunks of text is antithetical to that purpose, but goddammit I just enjoy this next part too much. I'll break it up with commentary so it's not such a huge wall of text.

"Is that all?" "Not quite. I will have a surgeon on the ground, in case, when I pink you, there should be a chance of saving your life. It always looks humane." "When you pink me?" "Precisely."

I love the line "It always looks humane." It really highlights his skewed priorities, and the way he treats the death of his opponent as a foregone conclusion not even worth fretting over.

"Upon my word, you take these affairs easy. I suppose you have had a few of them?" "Oh, a good number. People like yourself worry me into them, I don't like the trouble, I assure you; it is no amusement to me. I would rather, by a great deal, make some concession than fight, because I will fight with swords, and the result is then so certain that there is no danger in the matter to me." "Hark you, Sir Francis Varney. You are either a very clever actor, or a man, as you say, of such skill with your sword, that you can make sure of the result of a duel. You know, therefore, that it is not fair play on your part to fight a duel with that weapon." "Oh, I beg your pardon there. I never challenge anybody, and when foolish people will call me out, contrary to my inclination, I think I am bound to take what care of myself I can."

He may sound flippant here, but Varney really is mostly averse to violence, finding duels annoying and tedious and preferring to run from a conflict whenever possible. I won't say this is a consistent character trait of his, because there are a number of later chapters which blatantly contradict this characterization, but it does come up fairly often, and several times is milked for angst. That's right, Varney is the original tragic tortured unwilling monster vampire, and every adaptor who's ever done that with Dracula owes me 20 bucks.

"D—n me, there's some reason in that, too," said the admiral; "but why do you insult people?" "People insult me first." "Oh, nonsense!" "How should you like to be called a vampyre, and stared at as if you were some hideous natural phenomenon?" "Well, but—" "I say, Admiral Bell, how should you like it? I am a harmless country gentleman, and because, in the heated imaginations of some member of a crack-brained family, some housebreaker has been converted into a vampyre, I am to be pitched upon as the man, and insulted and persecuted accordingly."

"People insult me first," he says, grinning while showing all of his big sharp vampire teeth and constantly making little verbal jabs at literally everyone he talks to.

Varney voice how dare you call me out for being rude when I'm literally neurodivergent and a vampire

"But you forget the proofs." "What proofs?" "The portrait, for one." "What! Because there is an accidental likeness between me and an old picture, am I to be set down as a vampyre? Why, when I was in Austria last, I saw an old portrait of a celebrated court fool, and you so strongly resemble it, that I was quite struck when I first saw you with the likeness; but I was not so unpolite as to tell you that I considered you were the court fool turned vampyre." "D—n your assurance!" "And d—n yours, if you come to that."

Damn, roast him Varney.

After Admiral Bell leaves, so frothing mad that he kicks Varney's servant on the way out the door (uncalled for), he starts to worry about what he's going to tell Charles, now that he's arranged the particulars for his own duel instead of for Charles' like he was supposed to. Yeah, dude, maybe you should have thought about that beforehand.

Next: Varney asks Charles out arranges a not-at-all-suspicious meeting

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @davycoquette!

Writer Questionaire

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

I mean, it's my greatest passion, but it's not what I do or plan on doing for a living in the future, so I'll go with hobby. To be honest, I'm fine with that. I think I'd enjoy writing a lot less if I was doing it professionally.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Sorry guys, clean manuscript. I do a barebones outline to start, then just write the thing top to bottom. I know first drafts aren't supposed to be pretty, but I can't help myself.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

That's a tough one. I read a lot, so maybe Sanderson or Tolkien, but honestly, the person who inspired me to take writing more seriously is a guy from my weekly dnd group. He was the first person I met in real life who wrote and had published stuff. He proved to me that regular people can be authors too.

4. Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Listening to me since, easily. I can't sing, but I'm fine with that. I'm not emotionally invested in my singing ability like I am with my writing ability.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

Maybe a little? I feel like a lot of my characters are based on different parts of my own psyche, so really I'm just leaning into those. Because of that, writing about them has made me more accepting of different parts of my own identity.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

I'm only on Tumblr at the moment. I don't intend to put my writing anywhere else because I feel like sites like AO3 aren't really made for original fiction.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

Not on AO3, but I just did the math and between three Honor's Outcasts books and two and a half Mortal God books, I'm at 644,000 words. Add up all the miscellaneous short stories I have floating around and I'd put myself at an even 650,000. Not bad!

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

The Name of the Wind was the first book that really showed me what could be done with prose. I don't care that the third book is never coming out, Kingkiller Chronicles will always have my heart <3

The Foundryside Trilogy is an underrated series that basically inspired Mortal God. It weaves fantasy and sci-fi perfectly, has some of the best villains I've ever read, and the ending still makes me sick to think about. Which is a compliment.

And, of course, the Stormlight Archives massively inspired my worldbuilding. I always strive for the layer of depth and strength of character found in those books.

9. What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

The best comment I've ever gotten isn't exactly a compliment. One of my beta readers once commented on a weak metaphor, "You can do better, you started with a symphony." That really stuck with me for some reason. It reminds me that I do have the capability to write beautifully, and that I shouldn't settle for anything less.

10. What defines your writing style?

I've been told my narration is very conversational, cut through with fanciful descriptions. I've also been told the voice of whichever character I'm writing from the POV of tends to slip through into my writing style. Descriptions in Sepo's chapters are darker and more grim, the narration of Ivander’s chapters gets more sarcastic, Twenari’s chapters focus more on the smaller details, the voice of Astra’s chapters has some more of that country flair, and so on and so forth.

I'll tag @fantasy-things-and-such @wyked-ao3 @rotting-moon-writes @finchwrites and anyone else who wants in :)

[anths-girl]

I'm not one to try and write long-winded posts or like, get very passionately into a certain topic, or whatever. Mostly for the fact that, for one, my anxiety just makes me believe that nobody gives a shit about what little ol' me has to say about anything. And secondly, the few times in the past I DID kind of…speak up about things, I got such horrible responses that it just put me off ever actually saying anything at all, anymore.

But, BUT…sometimes I just CANNOT shut up. And this is one of those times.

I've lately started noticing this thing where, apparently, if you're asexual - and I AM very much asexual - you're not "included" in the "community," if you're a "straight" asexual. Like, go to my blog, see me posting pictures of like, Kirk Hammett with heart eyes emojis…BOOM, nope, you're not a "real" asexual. You're not valid. You're not included. Because I find men aesthetically pleasing, I'm…a fake? A fraud? Or, not actually asexual at all? Doesn't matter that, when I was 13, a guy I actually thought I liked, wanted to kiss me, and I fucking RAN AWAY. Or when another guy I also thought I liked, touched me, or hugged me or did anything physical, I would get nauseous and so uncomfortable that I pushed him off and made some vague excuses to just get the fuck AWAY. Or that, at the age of fucking 40, I am a virgin, I've never been kissed, AND I ABSOLUTELY DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING SEXUAL WITH ANYONE, EVER?

BUT, again, because I find MEN attractive (to LOOK at), and because I'm sex positive, I've watched porn (and YES, enjoyed it), like sexy movies, LOVE to read (and occasionally write) smut…I am not actually asexual? So…what? I'm just this broken, wrong…thing? That doesn't belong anywhere, because I'm not "attracted" to someone of my own gender? Even though asexual literally means I am not physically attracted to ANYONE? Because I am, according to "normal society," for all intents and purposes, labelled as "straight," I am not worthy of the "community."

The same "community" who is ALWAYS preaching inclusivity, and understanding and compassion? Well, shit, lately it's everything BUT compassionate. I've become wary, or even scared, of saying I'm asexual, because I'm afraid of ridicule. Again, I have pretty damn bad anxiety, and I get afraid when I just post a simple comment on things online, because I just don't have the mental energy to get into arguments or disputes. Though…it SHOULDN'T BE THAT WAY?! WHY does everything always have to end up being about people shunning others, who are different? Everyone talks about NOT hating or excluding people who are different…but then they turn right around and do EXACTLY that. The LGBTQA+ "community" is supposed to be a SAFE PLACE for ALL of us…and yet, now, apparently, the "us" is not…included? I can't be part of that "us," because, what, there's some specific set of requirements I'm meant to fullfil? I'm not asexual enough, because I'm not completely repulsed by sex as a whole, or because I'm a woman, who finds men attractive?

So now, what…it's right back to that mentality of hiding your true identity, because there's nowhere you fit in? Being ostracized because you're not ENOUGH to be part of something that SHOULD be welcoming to you?

Seriously, the world is regressing. Instead of being embraced and accepted for who you are…we get scrutiny, and told we're not good enough to be part of something that is supposed to include us.

So yes, what I'm trying to ACTUALLY say…it's sad and scary and LONELY, to be asexual. It's isolating. Because where we SHOULD be finding support and understanding, we just get hate and scorn. And one would truly think, that in this day and age, that wouldn't happen anymore. But like with everything, people just always have to ruin things for each other.

Because hatred towards people who are different? Will NEVER change. Humanity is still just too fucked up, for that.

[kanmom51]

My opinion on the whole coming out issue,

I just want to start with a quote from a kdrama I recently watched. I'm sure some of you have watched it, it's called Business Proposal. Basically there's a whole sub-narrative about a "hidden relationship"

Episode 10 from Kang Tae moo "Who cares, I am just hugging my girlfriend. I can't wait for the entire world to know about us"

Knowing Jungkook has watched it too, I really wonder what did he feel hearing this, but it really gave me the "Keep on being jealous, I will keep holding my Jiminie" vibe.

This brings me to GCFs. The videos are surely an avenue for Jungkook to express his feelings to the world. And I am one of those who believe GCF Tokyo was a statement. I wasn't here when it came out, but I've heard a lot of people at that time thought this was a coming out. I mean, even until now, when we look at the comment section, a lot of strangers/non bts fans think it's a cute couple travel video. This just says a lot about how unbiased people perceive the video. GCF Saipan was a subtle statement too. It's no coincidence that out of all members, only Jimin appeared along the lines "I don't wanna lie no more, I don't wanna hide no more".

For those reasons alone, I don't think they want to hide forever. They are doing it now simply because they have no choice, due to the current climate. Yes, coming out is a risk and it can impact the other members and their careers, but you know what? Everyone in the industry is in the same boat here. Every idol face huge risks whenever a relationship is revealed. Whether it's straight or gay. We have all witnessed the many scandals in the past. And it is bound to happen to BTS members too. Them being under the biggest spotlight in Korea for years and years to come. Plus they won't be able to keep up with the "I am innocent, single, and I will marry army' narrative forever. In the future, if ever one of the member's relationship comes to light, I believe the other members will follow too. They will take the bullet together as a group. Plus, they are so big now. They have nothing to loose. A scandal here and there will never break them. Their huge international fanbase benefits them, simply because I feel like we are much more accepting in terms of dating scandals and lgbt+ issues. Also their whole vibe right now is shifting to "idgaf anymore about what people will think"

Change is coming! I may sound too much of a utopist right now, but I really believe that in the future we'll be able to see all of the members enjoy their life with their respective partners happily, freely without having the burden to hide and lie. Regardless of their orientation.

Another one from the vault.

Like deep deep in the back of the vault.

Doing some Spring cleaning in Autumn...

Kind of strange looking at these words in May 2023. With hiatus, solo debuts, almost no ot7 content and even less Jikookery.

I guess the climate, the SM purchase debacle, enlistment, all had an impact on them.

You were talking, anon, about a member in a relationship and it getting out... well, we saw how that's going for Tae, haven't we? Given, he hasn't admitted to it yet, but man, even before he has parts of this fandom (and another one to remain unnamed) went feral.

I have talked about them 'coming out' many times. My opinion being that they won't, not fully that is, not announcing "we're a couple". Not to say that I don't wish that one day we all live in a world where they can do that and will do that without having to worry about their safety, their livelihood, their families.

But that day is not here yet.

What I do see though, especially now after JM's folio and Face and JK struggling so so hard to not throw it all to the wind scream "fuck it all" and shout it out loud for all to hear, is that as of where they are to date, and unless anything drastic happens between now and their discharge from the military, things will change after they get out.

They might not say things out loud, but they definitley won't be holding back as much. Definitely not as much as they are now, and not as much as they were even going back to 2021-2022 (LV Jikook).

You said "change is coming".

Sadly, after that change did come, but not for the better.

What I'm hoping for is for good change to come as soon as they have this hump called MS off their backs.

We know they will have a lot to say and do, changes will be made... AFTER (sadly, we know this by RM's privacy being breached).

So, we will sit here patiently, us supporters, the people that love JK and JM separately and together, the people that love BTS, their music, what they stand for and the members as individuals as well, and hope that by mid 2025 we will get to see them all on the other side of this fuckery.

[synnthamonsugar]

my challenge if you choose to accept it is simply “make Ikora and Drifter convincingly loyal/committed to each other somehow” :D

Among the ruins of a Reef outpost, Ikora Rey bundles into her heavy coat and the arms of Drifter. The air is mercifully still but bitingly cold, the cracked terrain of Rhea claiming the structures piece by piece, twisted metal and broken glass scattered down a rocky scarp. The complex has laid untouched, undoubtedly, since the Queen's deal with The Nine, two decades ago at this point, permanently ending the royal spies' intrusion into their territory.

She hopes hers' and Drifter's presence will not upset them as the Crows' had.

"I'm still a little starstruck you invited me on the mission," he says, winding his arm around her back as she wraps hers around his shoulder. It could have been empty flattery, but she's seen Drifter's lies and honesty enough — more the latter in recent years — to distinguish between the two.

"You're smart. Perceptive. Tough. You talk as well as you fight, Eli, and know exactly when to do both."

In some measure, he would always be The Drifter to her, but he's hardly the itinerant showman she once knew — or didn't know, to be precise. He had stayed, against all odds, growing on a path that commingled with her own. He had become known, and in being known deserved a name. 

The dossier had provided Ikora options. Sometimes he was Germaine. Others, Wu Ming, and others still Hope. The Hidden wore many faces and titles, and though The Drifter was not a part of her order he slithered between identities as effortlessly as any of her own.

"And I know myself. I've shed myself and embraced a new skin, more times than I can count. I am many," The way he hangs on those words sends a shiver unrelated to the cold. "I've been many since before the first brick was laid in the City walls. But all of that? It still don't make me one of your agents."

"Of course not. I would never ask you to work for — what do you say? 'The Man'?" 

He laughs. "Good. Like hell I'd say yes. But I'll work with you. Name the job, and I'll be there at your side."

She couldn't help but smile at his words, warmth greater than even their shared solar light could provide heating her.

Drifter distinguishing between Ikora Rey, person, Ikora Rey, Warlock Vanguard, and IKO-006, Hidden Spymaster would have been unthinkable at one time. Once, she was synonymous with authority, so it felt significant for her to be separated from it in his mind. She had come to find distinctions, too. The Drifter, gambit MC; Germaine, dark age lightbearer, Wu Ming, barkeep, and Eli, pilgrim guard; Hope, unknowing agent in an intelligence operation so deep undercover that the lines between what it was and what it sought to root out blurred into oblivion. He was no longer the avatar of an earlier age of lawlessness, vagrant, huckster selling thrills for a limited time, not worth reaching out to because he'd vanish as soon as she tried.

The struggle to understand Darkness, to ply it to their will to survive its representative had changed them both in surprising ways, subtle enough to escape the notice of all but each other. They had both shed old skins and embraced new ones. Or maybe — become more of themselves, what they'd been all along beneath the molt. 

"Can you imagine telling our past selves that we'd end up like this?"

"Well, I remember lookin' out across the courtyard thinking you were the prettiest lady I'd ever laid eyes on," he moves in for a gladly returned kiss. "So, I'd say old Drifter would be jubilant!" 

"I may have watched you, too, for reasons besides surveillance." She presses her lips to his again, this time lingering a bit longer. "I would be . . . pleasantly surprised. I'm not sure what I pictured for the future, but I was sure you wouldn't be a part of it."

"Did you picture tracking down cultists worshiping a god we all thought was a myth? Things change. Sometimes they change fast, if you're lucky for the better. I'd rather be with you, with the friends I've made —'' there's just a tinge of embarrassment in his words, like he's disused to saying it — "than runnin' away to watch fools brain each other for a cache of glimmer while I sleep every night with a gun clutched to my chest, waiting to be next."

Ikora had often thought of Drifter as a man who defined himself by his pleasures: food and drink, games and partners and adventure. But it was a surprise to hear him admit to wanting comfort. A rosy sense of peace settles into her as she presses her forehead against the rough fabric of his bandana.

"I'm glad at least some things changed for the better."

"I'm glad there's still thrills to be had, in good company." With a soft touch of her cheek he ducks away. Wordlessly they transmat their helmets, standing straight and stiff at a professional distance from each other as the cloaked figure rounds into view.

Their informant has arrived.

[mermaidsirennikita]

People are ridiculously entitled and it’s genuinely so disheartening. Books are someone’s ART. You don’t just get to alter a name in someone else’s creative work. (I’m appalled people out there think this is remotely acceptable - writers are not court jesters nor do they exist to please everyone - no human being nor their creative work does, in fact!) Thanks for putting your various responses out there! Here’s hoping people learn to respect and appreciate artists and creators once again

Quoth Nora Roberts:

I am not here to be a slave to certain reader’s wants, needs, whims. Again, I write what I write, and these are MY characters, in my books. Not yours. They are yours to enjoy or not, but they belong to me, they come from me...

You don’t have to agree, but I’m not writing for your particular point of view. Again, I’ve explained my reasons for this. I won’t do so again. My characters, my books, my decision. If you want something else, read something else.

And yes, I said that, too. Blast away, it changes nothing. I am not obliged to meet an individual’s demands.

So.

First off:

If you're really super chill about the idea of being able to change what writers write just because you didn't like a detail you think is small and irrelevant, I would sincerely encourage you to read La Nora's full thoughts on similar issues... and yeah, I'm gonna equate something as "small" as a name with what Nora's talking about here. Because it is ALL the author's domain. I've never personally subscribed to the idea that a work "isn't yours anymore" once it's out in the world. The way people interpret and interact with it isn't yours, sure. But it's still your creation, and you should be the only person with control over the content.

... and sometimes, I, as a reader, don't like what authors do with their content. I get it. I don't like that Lisa Kleypas edited her work years after publishing it, because I'm big on the "own what you wrote originally even if it's uncomfy" train... (for the most part--editing the fetishization of Cam and Kev would've made sense to me). And I don't think there's anything wrong with readers pointing out problematic shit in a writer's work, offering critique in an open forum, as Smart Bitches, Trashy books did when reading Hello, Stranger, which I speculate may have prompted some of Lisa's edits.

But! I can't say that it would ever be my right as a reader to, say, use future technology to tell my reading device "edit out the times Cam says shit that reads super fetishized". It's just kind of repellent to me to imagine rewriting someone's work in any way without their permission. Fuck, I don't even like the idea of estates releasing sequels or revised versions of books unless the author indicated that such was in their wishes in their will. (See: the TWO official Gone with the Wind sequels/prequels/whatever authorized by Margaret Mitchell's estate.)

We, as readers, have our lanes. The writers have theirs. And sometimes, as writers, they do tiny things or BIG things in their lanes that we dislike. (I love Tiffany Reisz's Original Sinners series, for the most part. I really, REALLY hate the most recent book in the series. HATE. IT. But the only thing I can do about that shit is just pretend that book never happened, which I actually can fairly efficiently because I do in fact control what my brain does. Or, seek out books that give me what that series didn't with that most recent book. Sierra Simone's do a bangin' job.) But you know... Not only do I not think it is safe for me to merge into their lane... I don't want writers to feel like they have to submit to demand and give away pieces of their work in order to keep selling.

(And honestly? For the vast majority, I don't think it would make enough of a difference anyway--writers are often sold bills of goods with new strategies or tech. "This will change the way you sell books". Most writers won't ever be able to write full time anyway, and I find the way that this fantasy that you'll be able to do otherwise with THIS TECH optimizing your writing time, or THIS SUBSCRIPTION increasing the eyeballs that will see your book... Scammy. Not all of it's bad! But the selling strategy that you'll make more money... If you're selling on KU, if five extra people buy your book you're still making pennies, so it's gotta be more than one thing that converges to create the sale, and a lot of that, I gotta say, is word of mouth and people just LIKING YOUR SHIT. And I'd argue that they're more likely to like your shit if you're invested as a writer.)

Second:

No need to thank me! I honestly think that the majority of readers do appreciate what writers do (or don't feel either way about it and just read like people have always read lol) but I don't know. I can't really tell what it is--the sort of "fandom" that's been created around books (and like, author fan clubs and such have always existed, but obviously the accessibility is so different), new tech developing very rapidly when for centuries books were relatively stagnant technologically speaking, the fanficification of EVERY type of media it feels like... But the sense of entitlement that certain readers feel does seem to have grown. Or maybe it's simply become more visible. I mean, Nora Roberts has from the dawn of her writing career taken off had fans that can communicate with her, and I'm sure many have written letters like "Go give these characters a baby :(".

My biggest thing is always going to be this: some books ain't gonna be for you. There are books that sound so Caroline. I read them, and for whatever reason--writing style, one character choice, something ephemeral I can't name--they aren't. Everyone else loves these books. I'd love to love these books. I'd love to discuss these books. I'm not in the party. And that's FINE. Not every party is going to be a party I'm down for! One of my best friends loooooves Tessa Bailey and Tessa-like contemporaries. Tessa, by and large, doesn't work for me. So my friend and I can't discuss a lot of books in depth. Do I wish historicals worked for her so that I could nerd out with her? Sure! But I can't make something that doesn't work for her work for her, and I can't make Tessa's books work for me.

And I know that people will be like "it's just a name bitch", but... it's a slippery slope to me, just like ALL of AI and AI-related tech has been a slippery slope. Like, y'all said AI wasn't gonna be a big deal and would just make things easier, and people are now selling AI-written books under their names. Everyone said that authors would have control over how AI interacted with their books, and books are being scraped for AI on the daily.

I do not want anyone to have final control over what is and isn't in a book but the person who wrote the book. I do not want writers to feel like they need to cede any amount of control over the copy in that book over to readers in order to succeed.

And I honestly think it would be a lot healthier for everyone involved if we as readers (viewers, general audiences) just accepted that we don't get everything we want, and creatives are not here to dance to our tune. They are people, and they want to tell the stories they want to tell. Your power? Is in your dollar. If you don't like that shit, don't buy it. If you don't want to support it... don't! Fuck, if you want to talk shit on the internet about how the most recent book in the series was absolutely not for you, that's your right, too.

I don't want you fucking with a single word on the page, though. Feel free to go write your own shit--prosper! But that part of what Nora said that rings true to me most is "they come from me". These books come from writers. You have them because of those writers. So, I don't know, dude. Just take what's there, and if you dislike it, spit it out and move on to the thing you will like. Authors aren't churn factories to produce what you want, and ROMANCE as a genre, however commercial it is and however much it does have that One Rule that defines it as a genre... Is still something that writers should be allowed to experiment with. That's the work writers put in. The work readers put in? Finding shit that works for us. And I'm telling you... With a little practice, it ain't hard. How do y'all think I have all these books to recommend? Lmao

[thoughtsaboutautism]

I suffer with autism: a response to Chloe Hayden's post on instagram.

I started writing this as a response to someone's question on Twitter, but as I kept getting involved into all the reasons why autism causes daily suffering for me, I decided to turn this into a longer post. The language might sound harsh if you're not used to it. I don't hate myself, I don't even hate my autism because I know I was born this way and there is absolutely nothing that can change that. However, when faced with affirmations that all my struggles are caused by society by others, then I have to come forward and say this type of stuff because I know I am not the only one that feels this way, and I know most people who feel this way are afraid to say this or can't even put into words like I can. So, here we go.

My biggest struggle in life in loneliness. I suffer with being lonely everyday, all day. And this happens because of my autism. I feel that my autism keeps me from establishing true connections and relationships to others. A Portuguese nonverbal autistic man once wrote: "autism takes from us what is most valuable and unique in a human life: the ability to connect to others". This is exactly how I feel. I find it extremely hard, boring and tiring to talk about things that aren't of my interest. As you can imagine this makes interacting with anyone an extremely difficult task because friendship is made of two sides, not only one. My speech and language difficulties also make it hard for me to speak, I can only speak for a certain amount of time before I get too tired of decoding my thoughts into phrases. It feels like a manual job for me: while everyone else is able to speak freely as their thoughts come in mind, I have to do the work manually. Does AAC help? Yeah, it does, but not entirely, because I still have language difficulties, which means that using language in anyway is difficult, not only speaking is a challenge, but communicating.

My cognitive rigidity also makes it very hard to make friends. I find it difficult to interact with people who have different set of beliefs than mine and I don't mean difficult like everyone finds it difficult. I mean difficult in a way that my best friend from school converted to christianity 3 years ago and I still have written long lists of pros and cons of being her friend, I have tons of writings on my notebook about what I should do, how I should act, researching morality to understand if I can keep a friend like her: has she adopted any radical beliefs since she converted? Would I invite her to my (lesbian) wedding if I ever get married? Does she believe in hell and heaven? Is she pro-choice? She is still nice to me, but I don't agree to certain beliefs, what should I do? All of these questions "live" in my head almost daily and it's been 3 whole years.

My rigidity also makes it almost impossible to go to new places, which is something all young adults my age like to do. Not only I find it difficult to visit new places, these places have to be quiet, they have to be somewhere where I can easily get home or a place where my parents can pick me up (because I have a hard time going places on my own), they have to have something I eat, or I have to bring my own food. With all of those needs, you can imagine that most young adults don't want to take care of someone like me when going out, but rather they want a friend and the sad truth is, I can't be a friend. Because my needs are almost always too much to deal with. And I don't blame others, I don't expect a friend to be a carer. This is the reality I've come to accept and why I work so hard in therapy to improve my issues with autism.

Sensory sensitivity and motor skills difficulties make my daily life a living hell. I can't stand the sun, the wind blowing on my face, dogs barking, cars, motorbikes, babies, kids, sometimes I have to leave my own piano lessons early because the piano is too loud or sometimes too shrill. Everything I do like getting food at the Cafeteria at University needs to be done with extremely careful movements. I easily let stuff fall down, break stuff, when eating I make a whole mess because I have difficulty holding the fork and knife and everything related. I constantly hurt myself badly. I have bad posture and bad ankles because of tiptoeing, which cause me excruciating pain.

I have trouble understanding simple concepts, simple social skills. I have trouble reading books and articles because of my language. I have trouble following whatever the Professor's talking about in class if they don't follow a straight line of thought, any distraction, any deviation from the original topic confuses me. I can't organize things in my head anymore. I need three times the time to get through a paragraph a normal person needs because language is so hard for me to comprehend. Yes, it's not all bad, I am myself a language genius (not really a genius, but let's just pretend). Yes, I can memorize grammar structures extremely easily. But I can't comprehend a sentence with any hidden meaning. I can't interpret a text that uses different meanings of words and different figures of speech. And when I get frustrated because of these difficulties that are cause by my autism, my first instinct is to bang my head against the wall. Scream. Hit myself. That's how my meltdowns are. I feel too much and I don't know how to express my feelings because sometimes I cannot communicate or comprehend them. And then I bang my head against the wall and give myself a concussion.

Yes, my autism causes me suffering. I am glad it doesn't cause you suffering, Chloe. But don't erase or deny my existence.

[cannibal-wings]

WIP Wednesday For You Pay the Cost I'm currently working on the Méndez boss fight. Here are two little snippets from it. This is probably the most rough I've ever posted. Usually my WIP Wednesday stuff has gone through a bit of editing, but these chunks haven't. They're as close to raw as they can get. Currently the fight is at 3K words, and I'm expecting another 2K at least, since I haven't even hit phase two yet. Anyways, enjoy! I'm off to work. (Update might not be next week, with the holidays this weekend, and I'm hosting, claiming my days off, my time to write will be limited. I wouldn't be surprised if the update drops late next week or early the week after)

1.

“Be careful,” Ashley said behind him. It was clear that she had picked up on his unease as well.

“I always am,” he said but that didn’t seem to have the effect he wanted. He supposed his arm in a sling was proof enough that just being careful wasn’t all he needed to do. The movement to Leon’s right was so sudden and explosive that he hardly had time to turn his head. His body was hit, hard, enough to throw him against the side rail and snap it. The momentum carried him across the open space and he hit the concrete floor below with force. Leon would have cried out in pain if the wind hadn’t been kicked from his lungs.

He rolled several times before he came to a stop face down. He lay there motionless, trying to force his lungs to remember how to breathe. His eyes were watering and his vision was white with pain. Finally, he drew a gasp, then another, like a fish out of water. Something off to his right hit the floor as well, it was heavy, and gave no cry of pain. It wasn’t Ashley. Leon pulled his good arm up underneath him and pushed. Slowly he got himself to his knees and looked over. It was Méndez. He turned so he was facing him, his whole body was still shaking with pain. When he looked up at the where he was, he saw a hole had been busted through the wooden wall. That man wasn’t human, that was for certain. There was no way someone could ram him through a solid wood wall with enough force to break metal and likely bone. Leon carefully felt around his ribs but he couldn’t tell if the pain there was from the giant fight, the bull man’s hammer, or the various other times he had been thrown around today.

Méndez started to walk towards him, slowly, in a manner not unlike something that had cornered its prey. “Little Protector, you have forced my hand.”

Leon was still struggling to process his own bodies movements; words were lost on him. But he heard Ashley call out from above, she was still near the walkway. “Leon! Oh my god, are you ok?”

At the sound of her voice Méndez turned to look at her. “I feel I must apologize, for what I am about to do to your Protector.” At that Leon shook his head and reached for his SG. He was able to get two good shots off. The first one hit Méndez in the back, he turned to look over at Leon and the second caught his chest. Fatal shots to someone who was human. “Cease your pointless struggling. Your body has already begun the change, abandon who you were and accept the will of our God.”

“You’re a shitty missionary you know that?” Leon managed to say between gasps of air. Méndez reached down to pick up his hat, it had fallen when he rammed into Leon from above.

Mendez began his approach again. “Lord Saddler wants you alive. But I think he’s making a mistake. You now share our blood, you have been bestowed our gifts, but you fight us every step of the way. You are unwilling and unworthy, and for that I must destroy you. Surely our Lord shall understand, and the Lady will be provided with a new Protector, one who understands its place.”

Leon didn’t like the sound of that. He shot three more times. It didn’t look like Méndez felt a single one. Leon might as well have been shooting him with BBs. “Oh almighty! Grant me the strength to fix your mistake!”

“Son of a bitch,” Leon muttered under his breath. He was going to have to fight, and the odds were looking less in his favor than normal. He quickly scanned the room for anything he could use to his advantage. This was a meat processing house after all, there had to be something he could use. He spotted a machine, a hoist, for hauling the carcasses up onto the tables, it looked like it was gas powered. Sure enough, there were barrels not too far away labeled “fuel”. Leon forced himself to his feet and shouted up at the walkway, “Ashley! Run!”

“Ok!” Her voice seemed hesitant, but her actions weren’t. With one last look down at Leon she sprinted for the stairs that led to the door to the outside.

Once he saw her orange jacket vanish through the door, he kicked the barrel over and shoved it towards Méndez. It started its roll towards the man and Leon didn’t have time to come up with anything clever to say besides, “Hasta luego!” He shot and the barrel exploded upon impact.

That wasn’t the only barrel of fuel, Leon didn’t notice that others had been stored nearby until he heard them go off. Four more loud bangs sounded off, followed by intense flames and clouds of thick, dark smoke. Another set of explosions pounded in from the opposite side, gasoline splattering the walls and pillars of the room. Everything was quickly caught in an intense blaze. Leon shielded his face with his good arm until the explosions ceased. When he lowered it he couldn’t see what was left of Méndez through the thick smoke. His next move was to try to find his own way out.

He looked behind him but there wasn’t a door, just a staircase to another walkway. The only door seemed to be behind the wall of fire he had just created. “Great,” Leon muttered. He solved one problem with another. He would have to run through the fire to get out. Not ideal. It could very well kill him. He gathered himself and started to move towards the fire when something stopped him, a chill ran down his spine despite the heat. Something else was moving in the haze of the flames.

Leon could hear a snapping sound, like breaking branches, followed by the wet sound of meat being torn apart. Again, that sound hit his ears, then he recognized it, bone snapping. It cracked and popped, blending in with the wood that was burning all around them. Through the fire he could see something twitching, then jerking upwards. With each pop it grew taller and it swayed back and forth on what Leon could only assume were legs. Then the whole figure turned towards Leon and began to advance towards him.

Méndez stepped into view. His upper body had become separated from his lower half. It sat on an elongated, exposed spine. Each set of vertebrae now sported sharp insectoid legs that wiggled independently from each other. It reminded him of a centipede. Leon took a step back, then another. “The fuck?” Méndez grew closer still, he didn’t seem disturbed by his body’s sudden mutation.

“God, I thank you for your gift,” Méndez said as he calmly strode towards Leon. Two bulbus growths on his back burst at once, spraying fluid as his body lurched and rolled. Two more appendages sprang out of his back, insectoid again, long, thick, with five joints. Corse hair and spines glinted fresh in the firelight. The tips were curved and sharp. No doubt they were designed to pierce. The limbs were dragging on the floor as Méndez gathered himself, strong spine pulling his upper body and the new arms back up to their full height.

Leon was already backing up. His claws and carapace suddenly seemed a lot less threatening. He spread his mandibles wide and hissed before he said, “You wanna get ugly? Let’s get ugly!” Bold words from a frightened man.

Méndez once more didn’t seem impressed by his threat display or the words that followed. He simply laughed and said, “I knew God would see my side, I knew he would agree with me. You will not live to regret your choice to turn your back on us. Now, behold the miracle!”

2.

Méndez seemed to be getting frustrated. He lashed out more desperately than before. The erratic movements were harder to predict, harder to dodge and Leon caught one to the side that flung him against the wall. The air wasn’t knocked from his lungs this time and he recovered quickly. He quickly shot a few times to distract the monster as he fully got back to his feet. Sweat was running down his back, or at least, Leon hoped it was sweat. He wiped his face, somehow the carapace on his hand was cool despite the heat around him.

“We share the same blood,” Méndez said as he turned to make his way over to where he had tossed Leon, “why do you resist?”

“I’m not answering that, there’s nothing I could say to a man who’s lost himself.” Leon shot again, this time more bullets hit than missed. He was getting more confident and comfortable aiming one handed. “I don’t share your blood either,” Leon spat. He could feel Méndez’s gaze on him. “D-Don’t look at me! I’m not like you, I’ll never be like you! Some sort of monster!” He flared his jaws and said, “You freaks can mess my face up, change my legs, my arms, I don’t care! I won’t be like you, it won’t work.”

“And that, Little Protector, is why I’ve decided to exterminate you.” In a movement faster than what Leon could see, Méndez swiped and caught Leon off balance. He moved in and grabbed the other man with his human hands. He had long, sharp, talons that didn’t struggle in piercing between Leon’s neck plates. He squirmed and struggled in his grasp. “To think you could be this foolish, to reject a gift as wonderful as this!”

Leon looked at Méndez, if there was a good man in there, he was lost now. That Leon was certain of. He couldn’t reach his knife with his injured arm, nor could he get it with his free hand. He kicked out and slashed at Méndez’s chest with his feet claws. The pressure on his neck tightened and he hissed in pain not intimidation. His heart was beating faster now, he needed a way out and fast. He tried again with the claws on his feet. He managed to rake them across his chest but despite digging in deep Méndez didn’t let go. He moved his hand with the SG just enough to line up with Méndez’s leg. He closed his eyes and prayed he didn’t miss. He squeezed the trigger and shot three times, his knee buckled and Leon felt himself drop to the floor.

He landed and scooted back as Méndez fell against the upper walkway. He roared and looked over at him. Leon felt a chill run through him. Those insect arms were a lot longer than they appeared. Mendez flung them out and they came crashing down on him like trees. There wasn’t any space to dodge, his back was against the wall, he had cornered himself again.

Leon didn’t even have time to swear. He raised his good arm and closed his eyes. Ready to hear the crack of carapace and then nothing as he was crushed under the weight of Méndez’s arms. The searing pain was just what Leon expected, only it hadn’t come from his arm, but his sides. Both sides of his body flashed hot with pain, just below his ribcage, as something split his skin and burst forth from his body.

Leon dropped to one knee and cried out. He wasn’t dead, but he sure felt he should be. His body spasmed. His brain was registering resistance on what felt like an arm, but not the arm he was used to. Through watering eyes, he looked up and saw limbs he didn’t recognize. They were holding off Méndez’s claw, which was far too close to his face for his own comfort.

Leon knew they were his immediately. He didn’t even have to look to see where they were connected, he just knew. He had two more arms now, and they were in the process of saving his life. His body shuddered and the new limbs crawled further from his body. With each push they grew longer and stronger. Leon watched as a hand formed at the end of each one. The fingers that unraveled looked like a human’s for a brief moment, before the pointer and middle fingers fused into a long blade like claw. He pushed back hard against Méndez and was surprised to find the monster giving ground to him.

Leon screamed as his body gave one last push and the arms fully extended out of his body. He stood and shoved the limb off and ducked to the side. He took a brief moment to catch his breath and look at the two new arms by his side. They were thin, more like insect limbs than human, but they had the correct number of human joints, a clear shoulder, or pivot point against his body, then an elbow and wrist. The hands weren’t human anymore, but they did have three fingers. That, Leon decided, was enough to hold a shotgun with.

Blood and fluid leaked down Leon’s sides from spot where the new limbs had burst forth, but already the pain was dulling. That healing factor was kicking in again. Leon holstered his handgun and moved for the shotgun. Sure enough, the new arm responded just like his old, injured one. It found its place on the front of the shotgun, the long blade like claw was easy to rest the gun against and the remaining fingers held it in place.

He moved in on Méndez, firing as he walked. The Merchant hadn’t been kidding, this gun packed a hell of a punch, but he hardly felt it against his shoulder. He fired three shots in rapid succession into the spine and Méndez finally howled in pain. He curled in on himself, human arms wrapping around his exposed spine. When he looked at Leon there was pure hatred burning in his eye. “Why? Why has God given you, a heretic, a gift? Have I been betrayed? Was my judgment not true?” Leon didn’t have the answers that the monster needed. He just shot again and again, pumping him full of lead. Méndez swept out again with the long piercing limb. This time Leon jumped on top of it, his dexterous toes wrapping around the limb and he followed the swing as it moved him closer to the upper walkway. He pushed off and jumped to the upper floor in one smooth movement. This time when he spread his jaws and hissed Méndez flinched. “Maybe it’s time to take this “Little Protector” seriously!”

[kiki-de-la-petite-flaque]

Enjoy this beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters used to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools that keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, my mother, my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time when she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, of her life, and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona