#'i thought you were-' 'Dead? And I thought you were a lot prettier but here we are me alive and you ugly.'

[virgosimagination]

How To Manifest Your Desired Appearance by Applying States

If you read my success stories post, you would know that I successfully manifested both my desired face and my desired body using the Law of Assumption. Specifically, by applying states.

Each state comes with its own set of thoughts. So first, I found it was beneficial to make a list of thoughts that I would think if I had my desired appearance.

For example, while manifesting my desired face, I knew my thoughts wouldn't just be "I have my desired face." That sounded and felt very mechanical to me. Instead, here were some of the things I'd be thinking naturally, and therefore things I adapted as my affirmations:

"I love being so pretty I don't even need makeup."

"I feel very confident today."

(When seeing someone I viewed as very pretty): "She's pretty, but I am prettier."

"Everyone wants to look like me because I am the most gorgeous woman in the world."

"I always look so good in pictures."

Any time I felt insecure or upset about my appearance, either my face or my body, I would immediately switch back to my desired state. Something that helped me a lot was minimizing the time I spent looking in the mirror. You can't see your face unless you're looking at your reflection. So really, I had no proof that I didn't look how I wanted to in my 3D. Any time I'd think of my appearance, I would imagine I looked like my DF. My old face was dead and gone to me. And when I did catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I'd pretend I was simply looking at my old self, because I knew for a FACT I looked different now.

I also made certain to fall asleep in the state of the wish fulfilled every night. I did this by doing SATS every night. I would imagine myself looking in the mirror and seeing my DF. I only looped the scene around five times before I got too drowsy to do it anymore. Then I'd drop off into sleep. Most nights, when I saw my own face in my dreams, I looked exactly like my desired face.

Any time throughout my day I found myself thinking from the state of lack, I would simply shift back to my desired state. I would do this by saying "I already have it." Sometimes it'd take me a while to sustain the state, because I kept immediately doubting. But I'd just keep shifting myself back into the desired state. I would not let myself give in to my negative thoughts.

I persisted until I finally woke up with my desired appearance. It got easier every day. I remained patient with myself. I knew it was possible. The only thing holding me back was my own doubts and fears. It got easier to recognize them (because sometimes they were camouflaged, as they were so natural to me) and it got easier and easier to dwell in my desired state, until it became my dominant state.

That is how I manifested my desired appearance! It really comes down to discipline, not taking no for an answer, and persistence.

[steddie-island]

Alternative Payment Methods

@strangerthingswritersguild kinktober day 26: Consensual Non-Consent (CNC) Rating: E | WC: 1,579 | Tags: Public sex, face-fucking, roleplaying For full fic and complete list of tags see ao3!

Steve looked around for any signs of life. He didn't see anyone, didn't hear anything but the sound of his own feet crunching on the carpet of dead leaves. Eddie's picnic table came into view but the metalhead wasn't there yet.

Steve went to take a seat but before his ass could come into contact with the bench there were feet there. Eddie had practically appeared out of nowhere and slid up right behind Steve to take his place on top of the picnic table.

Eddie lounged back on his hands and let his knees fall open. A cigarette hung between his lips. It might have just been a shitty picnic table, but it might as well have been a throne for the way Eddie draped himself over the top of it.

And yet Steve was the one they'd called 'King'.

"Munson." Steve tugged his letterman jacket around himself with the hands he'd tucked aay into his pockets. "I thought you'd decided not to show up."

"And miss my chance to take money from King Steve?" Eddie grinned and plucked the cigarette out from between his lips. "In your fucking dreams, man."

Steve rolled his eyes and pulled the small roll of bills out of his pocket. "You can count it, but it's all there," he said. "…Where's your lunchbox?"

"I'm not a fucking idiot, I wasn't about to just get it out without the cash first." Eddie unrolled the bills and counted them out. With the cig hanging from his mouth once more and one eye closed against the smoke curling up around his head he looked more like the hardened drug dealer he tried to pass himself off as and less like the highschool senior selling weed to make ends meet.

If Steve didn't know better he might actually be intimidated.

"I told you, it's all there."

Eddie put the bills down against the table and shook his head. "This isn't enough, big boy."

Steve blinked at him for several long moments. "What? No, that's it. It's all fucking there—"

"The money's here, yeah, but your fucking croney stole some of my shit last time I met up with him," Eddie said. "I'm charging you for that, too."

It took Steve a second to realize who the fuck Eddie was talking about. "I'm not friends with Tommy anymore, I'm not paying for his shit!"

"Then I guess you're not getting anything today." Eddie tucked the money into the front pocket of his jacket.

"You're fucking kidding me—"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Eddie stubbed the cigarette out on the top of the picnic table.

"That's not fucking fair—"

Eddie barked out a laugh. "Do I look like I give a fuck about that, either? You and Hagan both have the cash, you can cough it up or you can fuck off."

Steve's hands balled into fists against his sides. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to think of something to say that would make Eddie back down and either cough up the weed or his money.

"That was all the cash I had," he finally said with a wave of his hand. "So I can't pay for Tommy's shit right now even if I was willing to pay for it."

Eddie smoothed his hands over his thighs. "There are other ways to pay," he said. Steve could practically see Eddie's eyes darken even more as he leaned forward. One hand drifted up from his thigh.

Eddie was palming himself through his jeans. Those wide eyes were looking Steve over like he was a piece of meat and Eddie a starving man.

"Jesus— you're fucking serious, aren't you?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"Your boy Hagan's never said no."

Steve felt himself heat up all over and pushed the picture of Tommy on his knees out of his mind. "I'm not Hagan."

"No. You're not." Eddie was off of the table and blocking Steve's way back down the hill by the time Steve had so much as turned to leave. "You're a lot fucking prettier."

Eddie crowded closer, so Steve had no choice but to back up towards the picnic table. The bench hit the back of his knees and Steve found himself falling back onto it.

"If you're good enough, I'll even give you your money back," Eddie said, still smiling down at him. "Might forgive Hagan's debt to me, too."

Steve licked his lips nervously as Eddie lifted one ringed hand to caress his jaw, then up into his hair.

"What do you say, big boy? You want to really earn it?"

"I…" Steve bit down on his lower lip. Eddie was hot, and getting free weed for sucking the guy's dick didn't exactly feel like a hardship. "Yeah."

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY KASUMI GOTO *  assorted dialogue from mass effect 2 and 3, adjust as necessary

i swear to god, i didn't touch anything.

in case i don't see you again, thanks. that was a lot of fun.

and the "boxers or briefs" question is finally answered.

there's a certain aura about you. like you've seen things no one else has.

there's no way you're recruiting me to fight in a galactic war.

i wouldn't bring you here if it wasn't dangerous.

this is our stop.

you say the nicest things.

i'm a thief. stealing? it's who i am.

by the way, are you going to call security?

hey, come on. i never get caught.

ugh, i really need to avoid dairy.

you know, twenty years from now, this could be worth a fortune.

all right. i'm in.

nice working with you again.

this place has more money than it knows what to do with.

well... nobody's perfect.

hey, i'm nostalgic, not dead.

i like the seedier towns. they're prettier.

maybe when we're done with the mayhem thing, i could come back and... recover a thing or two.

now stop bothering me!

this is all i have left.

i imagine with all that's happened, old friends are becoming a luxury.

you know what i haven't had in ages? ramen.

come back later. i'm sure i'll have more to talk about.

i'm not really sure what to do with myself.

i'll stay off the grid. no one will know i exist.

well, that didn't go as expected.

we've never seen each other in person.

no one knows what i look like.

if we're lucky, you won't even have to draw your gun.

i always expect trouble. that's why you're here.

we should probably wrap this up.

see you on the ship.

you'd look really out of place at a society party in armor, don't you think?

i was just thinking about you.

i go through everyone's drawers.

[name] won't be able to keep his eyes off you.

getting it back will be easier with your help.

please tell me your password, [name].

good to finally meet you. i'm a fan.

my grandmother used to make the best ramen.

honestly, i'm shocked they didn't come to see me sooner.

it's my fault for being hard to find.

i'm the best thief in the business, not the most famous. need to watch my step to keep it that way.

i needed to make sure all this was legit.

you're the real deal.

even without knowing what you looked like, i knew it was you.

that's a bit of a story.

they were looking for me, so i trailed them to find out why.

i guess it slipped their minds.

i'm planning to get it back.

you'll get a briefing when the time comes.

i have a way in, and i think you're going to love it.

you'll want to look presentable.

you look great. you should wear this stuff more often.

you have been waiting patiently.

they won't hassle you over a sidearm.

you have excellent taste in underwear.

i thought about living here for a while, but everybody's so tight-ass.

it's all about money to these people.

i do what i do for the love of it. these people do it because they don't know any better.

i'm not a scientist.

this is why i don't put strange liquids in my mouth.

it's a plant!

was i that obvious?

people are talking out there... and i hear it all.

sounds like you two had a nice date.

it's nice to be able to look out a window for a change.

how many bedrooms does this place have?

i'm not really lactose intolerant, i just don't put up with lactose's stupid drama.

there's something about the feel of actual paper in your hands.

[cobrabobra]

"Asshole"

Carl Grimes x male!reader

pre Negan Alexandria, reader is Ron's older brother, kinda Carl's pov?, mention of porn, carl discovering his sexuality and being really confused about it, arguing, mention of guns

This is my first fanfic in years, english is not my first language so there might be some(a lot of) mistakes

part two

Carl was annoyed, like really pissed off and the thing is nothing really happend to get him so agitated, everything was fine, well as fine as it can be with the dead walking around. Everything was fine except his stupid little teenage heart. When finally things were going okay, when he finally had a roof over his head, food in his stomach and water in his sink, when he finally had a chance to take a break from living in constant fear, everything went to shit because of a one person.

He met (Y/N) when he was chilling in Ron's house, playing some video games, he was spending time with his friends ( if he could call them that) and finally feel like a normal teenage boy.

"You're cheating! " said Mikey, clearly not believing that young Grimes could've beaten him six times in a row.

Carl only chuckled at his words finding it funny that the boy could be such a sore loser.

"He probably doesn't even know how to cheat" Enid didn't even look up from her comic book as she spoke. Brown haired boy felt a sudden warm feeling in his chest, maybe him and Enid had a shot at being friends?

Enid was always distant, always annoyed at him for some unknown reason, when all he tried to do is make some friends, he didn't think he was too pushy or obnoxious, but maybe he was wrong. Anyway, he hoped that this was a sign that they were on the right track.

"Come on, it's my turn" Ron tried to break the silence after his girlfriends words. He himself was somehow surprised that Enid had protected Carl, after all he thought that they both disliked the new boy.

Unfortunately Anderson didn't have the time to sit on the floor and start the game before someone called to him.

"Ron? You here?" the voice came from downstairs and Carl was almost certain that he haven't met it's owner yet.

Approaching footsteps could've been heard and soon a new face appeared by the door.

Grimes discretely studied the newcomer's face, before him stood a boy, a little older than him with beautiful eyes and even prettier smile. To be honest, the man was gorgeous and Carl only wished he met him sooner, whoever he was.

"You're back from the run?" Ron stood up, he was clearly pleased to see this mysterious boy.

"Mhm" he nodded and took something out of his bag. "And I got you a little something" he said with a playful smirk on his face.

The little something happened to be a porn magazine and Anderson blushed furiously at the sight of it.

Mikey barely held back a laugh and he looked like he was suffocating while Enid completely ignored this whole situation. Carl himself found it amusing and couldn't help a little smile on his face.

Ron quickly took the magazine and threw it under his bed and because he did it without any thought, almost automatically, that made Carl think that this perhaps wasn't the first time something like that happened.

"I don't think we've met before, pretty boy" the stranger turned to the long haired male with a slight smile. His words made Carl blush a little and Ron more red than before, but this time with anger and not embarrassment.

"Don't call him tha-"

"I'm Carl. Carl Grimes" he cut the boy off as he introduced himself. Beautiful eyes of the man before him studied his face and Carl found himself feeling all tingly and warm in his chest once again.

"Nice hat, cowboy" he laughed, surely he wasn't trying to be mean, only to lighten up the mood a bit, but Grimes boy couldn't help to feel a little hurt and trying to hide himself by lowering his head, not wanting to look him in the face. "Name's (Y/N), Ron's older brother" he added, hoping his little comment will soon be forgotten.

(Y/N), such a pretty name, Carl thought, suits him quite nicely.

After that day the teen couldn't stop thinking about (Y/N), his hair looked so soft, his eyes friendly, his smile charming and his lips so-

Carl pushed his face into his pillow, feeling embarrassed to think such things about the boy. It was embarrassing, yes. But it was also new and exciting, definitely confusing, but mostly exciting. He never thought he would ever try to imagine how it feels to hug another boy, how to kiss another boy, how to be with another boy.

It's been a couple of weeks since they've met and all the brown haired boy could think was (Y/N), they've spent some time together and Carl even dared to call them friends. The other boy wasn't as interested in comic books as Carl was, but he seemed interested in hearing what Carl had to say about them. They often found themselves in the young Grimes' room, sitting on his bed, Carl talking about the newest comic he read while (Y/N) listened with a smile on his face.

Sometimes they would go on walks outside the walls, they kept close, their shoulders brushing against each other, thrill of being alone in the woods where danger was just around the corner, Carl couldn't help but love those.

So where all this anger came from? From frustration, not knowing who he was, who did he like and really not having an option to answer these questions. In the old world he might've just searched something on the internet, maybe done some quizzes, perhaps watched some porn, but this wasn't an option these days. All he knew was that he liked, really liked, (Y/N) , so was he gay? No, he couldn't be, not when he thought about kissing Enid as well, he thought that she was very pretty and her lips looked so soft. So, did he like both guys and girls? Was that even possible? Did he only like girls and (Y/N) was only an exception or was it the other way around and he only like boys, Enid being the exception? Hell, did he like anyone at all or was it just his hormones, some weird need to create a safe space for himself, his very own family? He was so confused and in a need for a serious talk but he didn't want to bother anyone, his dad and Michonne had a lot of work, Daryl would probably by more embarrassed about a conversation like that than Carl himself, with Ron, Enid and Mikey there was always a possibility that they could tell (Y/N) about his feelings.

He sighed and laid on his back, eyes pointed at the ceiling where (Y/N) put little glow in the dark star stickers he found in an abandoned house, Carl had to hold him up so he could reach the ceiling and gosh, his heart still raced at the memory of how close they were in that moment.

"Hey, cowboy. Whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice spoke and Carl almost died from hitting his head on the nightstand because of how fast he reached for the walkie. They'd found them on a run one time, probably should've given them to Rick, but how could anyone throw away an opportunity to talk to their crush in the middle of the night?

"Hey, what's up?" he responded trying to sound cool and casual, unfortunately his voice cracked a little which made him blush with embarrassment. He hated when it happened, he couldn't do anything about it and everyone made fun of it.

"Whoa, easy buddy. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a walk?" (Y/N)'s soft chuckle made Grimes ever more red. Gosh, his laugh was perfect, always made him smile too.

"Oh, crap, sorry, I already have plans with Enid" he suddenly remembered, since he followed her to the forest a couple of times they started to talk more and their friendship blossomed. They liked spending time with each other, mostly reading comics and just enjoying each other's company.

"You didn't tell me you had a date?" the boy on the other side of the walkie tried to sound offended.

"It's not a date, we just hang out sometimes, it's not a big deal" he quickly explained, although the thought of (Y/N) being jealous was very appealing he didn't want to risk pushing the boy away. If he had the tinest chance then he won't let it go to waste.

"Sure" there was a loud sigh, a disappointed one, though it might've been just his imagination. "I get it, no need to be shy 'bout having a girlfriend. Anyways, I'd better leave you alone, get ready for your totally casual hanging out with Enid alone in the woods totally not kissing. Have a nice one" (Y/N) left him with those words leaving Carl irritated again. He always does this, he always suggests that him and Enid are boyfriend and girlfriend, he's totally oblivious about Grimes' feelings. Enid was cool, pretty, good listener and if (Y/N) wasn't here Carl probably would've want to have that kind of relationship with her but for now his mind was focused on the boy who just hang up on him.

He hated it when (Y/N) always said crap like that and not even considered that Carl might've some sort of feelings for him. Or maybe he did realise that and he said stuff like that to show that he simply wasn't interested? Fuck, love is so complicated.

Few days later, they were exploring an abandoned building, Rick and Glenn cleared one room at a time while they stuffed their backpacks with whatever that might've been useful. They haven't really talked since that day, (Y/N) said he was busy doing something with Ron, which was obviously bullshit, although Ron was his brother, he annoyed (Y/N) more than he did anyone else. Carl spent those days thinking about what could he possibly have done wrong, maybe the other boy really was jealous? Maybe he was jealous of Carl spending so much time with Enid because he had the hots for her? Maybe he was just overthinking?

"Oh, look what I've found!" the object of his thoughts stood in front of him holding a dusty bottle of wine. "Should we take it?" he said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe you drink it with Enid, that'd be romantic, hm?"

"Are you seriously talking about it again? Me and Enid are not together" irritation in his voice must've thrown (Y/N) off a bit, because he just stood there looking confused.

"Come on, Carl, everyone can see it, you like her" he sighed, his voice tired of the same conversation over and over again, can't Carl just admit it?

"I don't like Enid, hell, I don't know if I even like girls, (Y/N)!" he snapped and quickly started regretting his words, he didn't mean to say that.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" he looked hurt, well of course he was, his best friend didn't tell him about his feelings, about what he's been going through.

"Forget it" he murmured under his breath and shoved the bottle in his backpack. "Let's just go"

He didn't expect for the other boy to grab his hand, though deep down he loved the sensatiom of being touched by him, he was too pissed off.

"What do you want from me?!" he yelled, clearly forgetting about the dead lurking behind every corner, just waiting for a chance to attack.

"I want you to talk to me, Carl" the older boy's voice was sad, almost as sad as when he told his friend about his abusive dad.

"There's nothing to talk about" starting to feel a bit guilty for hurting his friend, he tried to end the topic and move on.

"There is! For example, if you don't know if you like girls does it mean you like boys? Or do you think you don't like anyone in general?" the Alexandrian's expression turned from disappointed and hurt to irritated at the brown haired boy's behavior.

"I don't know!" all of the emotions he felt for the past couple of weeks started to come to the surface, he was frustrated that once again for not being able to answer these questions.

"How do you not know?!" they were both angry at each other at this point, Carl for (Y/N) pushing him, asking about stuff he had no idea about and (Y/N) at Carl for not wanting to talk to him.

"How am I supposed to know?! I don't know how to find out!"

And then something unexpected happened, one second Carl was clenching his fists ready to smash something with his head and the other he felt his whole body shiver and tense up at the feeling of a soft pair of lips against his own. He was too shocked to kiss (Y/N) back, too confused, too tingly and weak inside to do anything. All of the sudden he felt all the love his felt for this boy erupting inside of him as he grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer. It was messy, weird and very awkward, but it was charming in some kind of way. Almost perfect, almost. It would've been if not for the walker who just emerged from around the corner, attracted by their fight, hungry and ready to attack.

Shots were fired from (Y/N)'s gun as he stood there focused on the monster, his lips all red and swollen from the kiss.

"You okay?" he asked carefully as if Carl was a wild animal easy to scare.

"Yeah" he only managed to say, still to stunned to speak.

"Good" he put his gun back into the holster and looked at the Grimes boy once again. "Next time you need help figuring something out just tell me, asshole"

[noturlesson]

Could you possibly write hcs for sal with a masc s/o that's into film and photography and take a lot of photos of him? They've always admired Sal and saw him as interesting but was too socially awkward/nervous to start a conversation ever since he moved in. The two probably only met due to Larry introducing them..

Sal x Masc!Photographer!Reader

Ngl this is gonna be a challenge since I’m used to writing fem readers, but I need to diversify my writing anyway, so here u go! I hope this was good enough lolol

How you met

You almost died when Larry introduced you to Sal for the first time

Seeing him in the halls was completely different than being face-to-face with him. He was so much prettier now that you were meeting him and it absolutely dizzying.

Of course, Larry put you on blast by telling his blue haired friend about your photography. He gushed about how good it was, and naturally, Sal wanted to see.

You nodded, awkwardly fumbling with your photo album, but finally pulling out a few pictures of some birds you took.

“These are really good, (Y/N)! You have a great talent.” Sally complimented you while examining the photos.

Your thanks came out in a stutter, and you mentally facepalmed at yourself.

“See? I told he’s rad!” Larry exclaimed, playfully slapping you on the back. It caused you to panic and drop your photo album, pictures spilling out all over the floor. Embarrassment rushed through you, but Sal was quick to help pick up the pictures. “Wait.. is this me?” He asked, holding one of the photos in his hand.

You were absolutely mortified, stumbling over your words as you scrambled to pick up the rest of the photos. “Well I just thought that you looked really good in that lighting, so I took a picture, and beauty should be captured so-“

“Do you have more?”

If you almost died before, you were definitely dead now

In a relationship

He absolutely adores the photos you take of him. He has really bad self image issues, but your pictures make him feel so beautiful, he can hardly believe that it’s him in the picture.

Asks to look at all the photos you take, compliments you profusely on all of them

Loves tagging along with you to photo shoots

You teach him how to use your camera and he falls in love with you even more

Nearly passed out when you put your hand on top of his to stabilize the camera for the shot

Has a collection of pictures you took when y’all go on dates

His absolute favorites are the ones he takes of you though. They’re not as cinematic or professional-looking as yours, but he doesn’t care, he thinks you look handsome so he’s going to cherish the photos

You hate when he takes pictures of you though. He always catches you off guard, and you don’t think your nearly as photogenic as he is.

Has at least 3 photos of you trying to eat a burger (if u don’t like burgers imagine ur fav food or smth idk)

Refuses to let you delete them off your camera because “you look too cute”

Will never tell you, but your photos boost his self esteem sm and he loves you so very much for that

Will listen to you go on and on about your dream equipment, movie/film sets you like (or hate), your favorite filters to use, etc. Just happy to see you so passionate about something you love.

So sorry that this was so late 😭😭 Homecoming week happened as I was BUSYYYYYYY but yea hope u enjoyed :D

[jasminedragonart]

Thoughts about the impact jK Rowling has had on the female character:

I think it's fair to say that we have a long way to go in media and literature to achieve a steady basis of good female characters. That's not to say there's none, but the bad does outweigh the good. The thing is, it is getting better. These days when we look at media we can find a lot of well written female characters. Tina, Louise and Linda Belcher. Star Butterfly and Mabel Pines. Nadja of Antipaxos. These are just a few characters I thoroughly enjoy watching on screen and the reason for this is because they're relatable to me. I sometimes sing to myself like Linda, I've found myself writing fan fiction like Tina. I've had that moment like Louise where I stood there as a child and wondered why others around me don't like the things I do. I'm flawed like Mabel and I like cute things like Star.

All of these women above are women. They're feminine. They allow themselves to embrace everything that makes them who they are and yes there are struggles but they're not standing there telling me they're modernising what it means to be a woman. They're women and I like them.

Characters like these have been hard won. We've legitimately struggled to get them here and every year it's getting harder and harder to keep women like these on screen. The reason behind this, I kind of blame a lot on the impact Harry Potter had not just on media but what it means to be a woman.

Has anyone else heard the phrase 'Be a hermione in a world full of princesses?' Does anyone see how toxic this is? Does anyone else not see the problem JK has created by her series getting popular? A problem she hasn't and doesn't want to address because she doesn't realise the problems in her own books.

Hermione was a breakthrough character in children's media. By that, I mean that people finally saw the bookish girl as holding value in a narrative beyond what she had been before (maybe annoying. Maybe just a side character. Never a main character or love interest.- except no, that's wrong. we had lisa Simpson way before Hermione...

Lisa is more nuanced though. I enjoy Lisa because she's very self aware and does try and improve herself even if she's doomed to love in a sitcom she can't escape her role from.

Back to Hermione. Hermione was new to children at least. She showed kids there was value in reading and learning. But, in all honesty, how much is Hermione's popularity down to Emma Watson's portrayal of her and how much is it down to the character of Hermione.

Movie Hermione is very watered down. In fact she's given a lot of Ron's lines which makes her more impactful and Ron further into the shadow of the comedic best friend. Emma Watson is very pretty too. Even as a child she looked a lot like how a lot of prettier girls in my class looked. Her hair was the only thing that made her an outcast. But even then, this was the early 2,000s. Do you know how many kids my age came to school with Hermione's hair? They brushed those curls out until they were dead. No one knew about the curly girl method in primary. The point is, Hermione is different on screen than in the books. she's pretty, she's emotional, shes more nuanced than she is in the books and I applaud the movies for doing this to Hermione because it did make her more likeable.

That's the thing though. More likeable. In the books Hermione is not a likeable character to a lot of people. She would have been the know it all in class that reminded the teacher they had homework. Yes, she did some good things, she spoke up about the house elves, she saved Harry's life a few times but her character, in my opinion, got worse as the books went on. She remained very consistent. there wasn't a lot of change to her character. She didn't seem to grow because she didn't have to.

Worse. she was elevated.

I don't know if anyone else caught the horrific misogyny in these books but I did and it infuriates me.

JK makes a point of elevating Hermione. Hermione is always right. Hermione will always win. Hermione is the standard we should hold other females to, and I know for a fact it's because her popularity increased as the movies were brought out.

If we look at the other female characters in comparison to Hermione I honestly hate it. Mainly because Hermione is elevated to a point where she isnt feminine. If you show any femininity in those books you're villainised.

Don't believe me?

What colour does Umbridge wear? Pink. What is her favourite animal? A cat. She likes sweet things and lace. Shes everything we've come to know about women but she's twisted inside so we can't like these things. we turn against these things because Hermione doesn't wear pink. she wears blue like at the yule ball. she's almost masculine in her appearance so we don't associate her with natural beauty.

Lavender. Girly girl. Just wants a boyfriend because all girls at that age are boy crazy. She's a very supportive girl. Its turned to clinginess. Something hermione is not. In fact she keeps ron at such a distance I didn't even know they would end up together until the last book. the movies made it more obvious, they did their best with it. But the books didn't.

Cho Chang. Cries a lot. Emotional. Doesn't matter that she's grieving and was forced to give up the location due to a potion. No, she's villainised so Ginny can have a sudden romance with harry that again came out of nowhere.

Luna escapes this thankfully. Only because she's too weird for us to consider her having romantic notions. she doesn't have to be put down or twisted to make way for someone else.

Jk made a whole generation of girls hate anything girly. They turned away from pink. They would rather pick up a book than do their make up. Their interest in Hermione and rejecting femininity is the reason we have so many bad female heroines these days.

My question to jk is why? Why couldn't a girl like make up and reading? Why is it one or the other? Why must we reject the pleasures of being dainty and liking cute and fun things in order to be a good woman? Why couldn't we have a character like Louise? Louise is very much a tom boy. But you know what? Louise wears a dress and bunny ears, pink bunny ears, every day of her life because the writers of that show understood a female character. Louise loves smashing mirrors. She also loves Boo Boo. She doesn't like pixies but she still likes wearing a dress.

For years the girly girls of this world had to put up with characters like Hermione being paraded in front of them and told that they themselves were being bad women because they liked pink. Because they liked cats and boys. It wasn't right. And we really need to ask the question on why JK thought to put women down like this in her books when she herself is- apparently- such a protector on what it means to be a woman.

I spy some internal misogyny. I spy a lot of things and theres probably more i could say but it's late, I'm tired and my phone keeps smashing my words together so I need to stop typing.

This is just my opinion. You don't have to agree. This is just the experience I've had growing up in a world where these books shaped a lot of my childhood. I probably would have explored dresses and brighter colours faster if I wasn't told by a fictional character and the grip she had on me and my femininity that pink is bad. That being a girl is bad.

[shunshunrika]

Hi, for your recent event, I hope you can consider this request! 💖

FLUFF 7 + SMUT 27 + Gojo Satoru + (no kink specified: up to author!)

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ OBSESSION - GOJO SATORU

warnings - SMUT, afab! reader, mirror sex, dacryphilia, humiliation, overstimulation, recording, oral (m! and f! receiving), facial, dirty talk, squirting, pet-names, not proofread.

MDNI, 18+ only!!!!

a/n: Satoruuu, why are you THAT hot? also, can't believe this is my first toru smut? I'm a toru account..what??

Gojo Satoru, your very own boyfriend, usually known as the man who knows everything, doesn't know about your obsession with him.

Yeah, you have been dating him for a bit over 6 months now and yet, you keep forgetting that you are. You are still in your 'crush' headspace after all this time. Probably because Gojo Satoru is internet famous and a lot of people, like you, are in love with him. It totally gives you an existential crisis sometimes - that you are not one of those fangirls, but his actual girlfriend. That doesn't soothe your tendencies though.

You still steal glances at him and find your cheeks turning red-hot, you find ways to sneak a peek at his naked, steamy form when he's done showering, hell you will even read fanfiction about him and save particularly juicy fanart if you come across it. Recently, you had come across certain pictures of his, drawn by a very talented artist - (bless, you even tipped her anonymously)

Ever since then, it has been the photo that adorns your phone screen. Obviously, you had a different lock screen since you didn't want Satoru to know but you could ogle at this art of Satoru all you wanted in secrecy. Satoru never knew you had this side to you. He always felt you were the more independent one emotionally and he was clingy. Little did he know though. It felt indecent, childish but you loved your little secret all the more.

You had gone a few weeks without Satoru ever noticing until one day, in the middle of the supermarket, Satoru needed your phone to look at the grocery list.

"I put down ice-cream in there, baby. Did you remove it again?" Satoru whined rather loudly. A few women passing by chuckled at the two of you, bantering in the aisle.

"Satoru. We don't need ice-cream every week, okay? Do you love your dentist more than me?" is your rebuttal.

"She's prettier..." Satoru hums to himself, earning a slap on his back from you, making him chuckle.

"Well if not ice-cream, what's left..." Satoru started scrolling through the list until he seemed to have found something.

"Oh, what's this?" he asked, rhetorically. "Wow."

For a second, you feel an ominous air. You stop dead in your tracks and feel the urge to look at what Satoru is looking at. Sure enough, his blue eyes reflect the half-naked art of his own silhouette, vibrant in all its glory right on your home-screen. You almost forget how to breathe when you snatch the phone out of his hands aggressively.

"S-Satoru, I-"

"Y/N, seriously?" he asked, amused.

“Am I your wallpaper?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” you exclaim, a bit too loud for a public place. You calm yourself down and clear your throat before continuing. "u-uh. I thought it looked, uh, good...so"

"Y/N!" his face cringed up. "Oh my lord, you love me that much. And here I used to think you found another man because you keep ignoring me!" Satoru pouted quietly, still eyeing your phone. You could sense the onlookers' eyes bore a hole through your back so at this point, you just grabbed Satoru and made a run for the billing line. After you were in your car, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Satoru still wouldn't shut up about the picture on the ride home as you drove. He had convinced you to hand him your phone so he could look at the picture better from all angles. What he was looking at, only he knew.

You were so happy he hadn't figured out that there were more.

"Huh..."

Another bout of unease. You perhaps spoke too soon.

"THERE'S MORE?" he exclaimed so loud while swiping left and right, you almost slammed your breaks.

"Satoru! Stop that!" you screamed. "Give me back my phone!" you lurched at him trying to get your device filled with his lewd pictures back.

"Y/N, are you really that horny for me?" He asked genuinely.

"You should've told me 4 times a week was still insufficient for you."

"Satoru, please." at this point you were so embarrassed, your eyes were tearing up. You didn't wait for his response, parked and ran straight into your house, kicking off your shoes. He could keep the phone, do whatever. He could think you are a freak, or obsessed, or gross or whatever! You sniffed as you climbed into your king-sized bed and hugged yourself. This was so humiliating!

"Y/N? You cryin'?" Satoru was right on your heels without you realizing. He climbed into the bed with you, dropping your phone on the side table.

"Are you embarrassed about it?" he asked, scooting to be beside you, his arm on your wait and his lips on your ear. "You embarrassed that your dirty little secret is out now?" He said, sliding two fingers up your shorts and rubbing your little nub through your panties. You bit your lip, pressing your thighs together and trapping his wrist there. When he realized that he was trapped, he proceeded to pinch your nub lightly making you yelp.

"Stop teasing me!" you whimpered, your voice breaking halfway through and your vision blurry with tears.

"Nope. I want you to cry more than that, but let's do this a bit differently." he said, getting up and picking you up along with him, bridal style. He was so strong it was practically effortless for him to carry you like you were a doll. He carried you away from the bed and you wondered where he was taking you.

"Let's switch the environment a bit, shall we?" he said, laying you down on the carpet in front of a full-size mirror that lay in the corner of his room. The mirror was large enough to show you and him. You thought he was too tall for it.

"You won't need these." Satoru said, pulling at your clothes. "Off with them." he commanded, stripping himself of his shirt while facing the mirror. You could see the intricate pattern of every solid muscle on his torso and abdomen as he got rid of his clothing and you did too. You noticed how pretty your body looked and how prettier it looked bare, sitting right below Satoru's own bare body. His length hung right over your head, semi-hard already.

"How should we do this?" he put a finger to his chin, pondering.

"W-what are we doing?" you asked frantically, unsure of what was about to unfold other than the two of you having s*x in front of the mirror.

"I'm thinking." Satoru got down on his back and pointed at his face. "Sit on me and face the mirror."

You gulped when you thought of how that would look in the mirror. Your legs spread out atop Satoru's gorgeous face and you having access to his abs and his hard-on.

You quickly followed what he told you and sank onto his waiting mouth, moaning out load when you felt his tongue beginning to explore your insides. Satoru grabbed your asscheeks and lifted you up ever so slightly so you could see in the mirror, how his tongue entered in and out, at a steady pace, before setting you back down onto him. Gosh, that looked so lewd...

"What should I do?" you asked, more to yourself than to Satoru. You started out with tracing his taut abs and you saw in the mirror how your fingers filled in the ridges and crannies. Your hands finally snaked their way to his towering dick. You bent yourself forward in order to reach his dick with your mouth as his torso was too long and it ended up making you lift your ass off Satoru's face. He growled and pressed on your hips to make you sit back onto his face. You struggled to stretch out this was for a few seconds until you found a comfortable angle.

You made eye-contact with your reflection as you licked the tip of Satoru's length softly. His head looked so raw and pink, it was cute. you smiled at it before placing a kiss on it. This made Satoru groan into your hole and made you sigh too.

"Pretty 'toru cock." you commented, taking it in your mouth little by little. You were surprised how large it looked, sheathed in your mouth. It created a bulge on your left cheek as you looked at your lewd, horny self in the mirror - eyes half lidded, saliva escaping from your packed mouth, hair astray. Satoru never let his rhythm falter, as he chugged his tongue deep into your crevices, lapping up every ounce of your juice as soon as your walls were coated with a fresh layer.

His fingers were probably leaving marks on your ass now, but you loved it when they did that. Your plump ass marked with Satoru's fingers. You hollowed your cheeks out, taking in more and more till your nose connected with his pelvic bone. The tufts of fine hair on his crotch tickled your nose as you stayed there, feeling his shaft sit comfortably in your throat, like it was a glove meant just for Satoru. Meanwhile, you swirled your tongue all around his length, paying attention to each vein and the underside of the dick. You brought your hands up to his sack to toy with it - gently rubbing at the twin balls and resisting the urge to squeeze them. He noticed what you were doing and brought his own hand to your nub, rubbing at it fervently.

"Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me." he purred and you moaned right into his dick, quivering as Satoru made you lose your sanity. This was a competition now, who would cum first. You were desperate to win after how humiliated you felt. You increased your pace with your mouth around his shaft and start pumping the bottom to add to his pleasure.

"Nghh." he groaned out under you, losing focus.

"That's it Satoru." you mumbled with a mouth full of cock, feeling him come closer to his peak. "Put it all on my face, please."

"I want to drink all of it."

That was enough to send Satoru over the edge and you removed your mouth just in time for him to paint your face white. You were so f*cked out yourself that you let his thick jizz go wherever it wanted to, inside your nostrils, back in your mouth, on your eyelids. Some even fell on his hairy crotch which you kitten-licked at diligently.

"Get all of it, don't leave a single drop behind." Satoru told you as he continued his assault on your womanhood from the behind. You looked at yourself in the mirror, deranged looking - face covered in ropes of his cum and your tongue picking up the leftovers from his pubes. What a mess. Beautiful.

"Say cheese, Y/n." you suddenly heard Satoru say as he started humming into your hole. The vibrations and his tongue were enough to push you over and cum monstrously onto his mouth so much so that you didn't notice what he was doing. You cum painted face was contorting in pleasure and you wondered what sort of expression you were making. You heard the sound of a camera flash but couldn't care less, you enjoyed your bliss for a few more seconds with tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with Satoru's cum, until you finally looked back to see what Satoru was up to.

"Wow. what a masterpiece." he said, showing you the picture, he just captured on his phone. It looked like art. Your face, the scene, the mirror, everything in it.

"I'm going to use this as my wallpaper now." Satoru said mischievously, earning a grimace from you.

"Satoru- you-" you began saying with a sigh, trying to get off of him but Satoru won't let go. He made you sit back down on him and grabbed at your breasts blindly.

"Where are you going, I'm not done with your pretty hole yet." he said, plunging his tongue yet again into your insides, making you screech.

"O-ow. Wait." you hissed, tearing up. "I'm still sensitive."

"Cry it out. You look so pretty like that." he said, pinching and pulling at the erect nipples on your breasts making you hum in pleasure and pain.

"Oh my goodness." You exclaimed and kept exclaiming until once more, Satoru's chin was drenched in your juices.

"Okay, stop now." you said.

"No, princess." he said devilishly. "Not yet."

You were now seriously questioning whether you would lose your sanity. This time, your walls were even dry and yet you felt something bubble up in your abdomen while Satoru's mouth sucked your nether lips dry.

"Oh, oh!" was the only thing you were able to say as you saw yourself in the mirror and a second later, liquid sprayed out of you and straight onto the mirror. You kept spraying the mirror in bursts, with your head thrown back until you were so weak, you fell forward, your face next to Satoru's limp c*ck.

Satoru finally let go of your ass and gently pushed you off of him, inspecting your face.

"Well." he said, getting closer to the mirror and licking some of the liquid off of it.

"If you need a picture of me as your wallpaper, I'll send you nudes baby." he pulled your cheek as you smiled, watching him set off for the bathroom, humming a tune only he knew, as you let yourself drift into dreamland full of naked Satorus.

[nomoreusername]

Lily of The Valley (Part 4)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:Aris and you enjoy your first morning in the real world.

Eventually, there was no heat to complain about. Just the cold night air.

I wasn't bothered by the new weather though. I just laid beside Aris as we looked at the sky.

"It's been so long since I've seen them,"He whispered, as if they would stop shining if they heard him.

"Yeah. They're even prettier than I remember."

"I used to dream about them. About the nightsky in general. About being outside. I would be in different places, but one thing would stay the same,"He sighed, closing his eyes as another smile made its way to his lips.

"What was it?"I asked. Turning his head to look at me, I think I got my answer.

"You."

"I used to dream about you too. Only it was memories. Small things like when I first met you and when you would share your sandwiches when we ate lunch. Sometimes it was just you working with me, or the times we would mess around when we were supposed to be. They all had you though."

"That's really nice to hear,"He mumbled, letting out a yawn while struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Come on. Go to sleep,"I whispered, putting my legs out. Accepting it, he laid his head on my lap while I leaned back against the rock. Letting my eyes flutter shut, I kept my hand on his back to be sure that he was here before falling asleep with him.

× ~ × ~ × ~ ×

Like usual I was up before Aris, right as the sun was rising. Staring at him, for just a moment I debated waking him.

Still, we had the rest of our lives out here. Why bother him when he's clearly getting a good night's rest?

Gently tracing my fingers on his back, I just sighed as he stayed cuddled up to me. Letting him, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, listening to his even breathing.

For a while, I just let him stay while my legs were getting numb. Still, I didn't move as I looked at the way he was still dead asleep, his hair that had grown out falling in front of his eyes. Moving it, I watched over him until my eyes accidentally traveled to his bad leg.

I still remember everything. Kind of. Some parts are a lot blurrier than others, but all of them are painful. From the screams, to the running around, to the blood, to waking up to my hearing muffled, to the dead bodies, to the people we failed, just the thought of that day kills me on the inside.

With his legs curled to his chest, I was able to touch his ankle. After arguing with myself about it for a moment I traced the scar that came with his limp.

I still remember that part of finding the bunker meant fixing ourselves up. While the Double T's stuck together it was Aris and I.

So with the supplies available I was able to properly wrap his ankle, though there was really not much else to do. Teresa had already done all there was to for the bone by snapping it back in place. I just checked on the parts I could, disinfecting that and the rest of his injuries before he did the same to me.

That day was the darkest day of my life, of all of our lives, and it always will be.

After a moment more he stirred, making me pull my hand away. Going still, I held my breath until he opened his eyes, looking right at me before yawning. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and leaned next to me.

"You sleep well?"

"Mhm. You're a surprisingly comfortable pillow,"He shrugged.

"Wow. I have never received such a high compliment before,"I deadpanned.

"I just love you that much, you stick."

"As you should."

"It's a bit early for an attitude, isn't it?"

"No. You just sleep late,"I corrected.

"That's because you let me."

"Well, you don't like being woken up, and it's sort of terrifying to see you jump up like you're coming out of sleep paralysis."

"And what if I am?"

"I'd suggest a therapist, but those are a bit limited."

"Why don't you be my therapist?"

"Because I need one too,"I reminded him.

"True. Maybe you'd actually be nice."

"So me sitting still so you can sleep wasn't nice? Or even better, me coming into the world for your flower?"

"You didn't have to come."

"Of course I did. You looked way too sad not to give in to."

"So I just have to look sad, and you'll give in?"He asked, the mischievous smile clear in his voice.

"Probably,"I admitted.

"If I looked sad enough would you kiss me?"He joked, nudging my shoulder with his.

"No. That's where I draw the line,"I said firmly. Then, dragging my finger through the sand, I drew a literal line. On one side I wrote kissing Aris just to prove my point.

"Is it?"

"Well, that's a bit much,"He sighed.

"What do you-hey! Don't mess up my art!"I exclaimed as he started drawing flowers over my work. Swatting his hand away, I just erased everything before glaring at him through the corner of my eye. All the while he wore an innocent smile.

"Yes. It's wrong anyway."

"Yes? Something wrong?"

"Yeah. You,"I grumbled, crossing my arms. Copying me, he did the same as he grinned at me. "You are literally the worst."

"Well, aren't you a bottle of sunshine?"

"That's not even the right phrase."

"It is. You wanna know why?"

"No."

"Because I said so."

"You're a little special, aren't you?"

"That's what you've said so probably."

"It's a mystery that your idiotic self has managed to live for so long,"I sighed, stretching as I stood up.

"Because your oh so kind attitude keeps me going,"He teased, doing the same. Rolling my eyes, I didn't bother with a verbal response as I pulled out a can of peaches. Having learned my lesson I struck the top with my knife, tearing the metal open. Handing it to him, I then gestured for him to get going.

"Where's yours?"

"I already ate,"I lied. Seeing right through me, he sat on top of the rock and patted the spot next to him. "Aris, I really don't-"

"Come on. Just sit down and have breakfast with me,"He urged.

"It's fine. We have to get-"

"We don't have to do anything. It's just you and I now, remember? We can do what we want, where we want,"He reminded me. "So have some breakfast before I make you,"He threatened. As I opened my mouth to protest he threw in a quiet please.

"Fine, fine. I'll have breakfast with you,"I gave in, sitting beside him.

"Yes. You will,"He nodded.

"Aris, you're a pain,"I sighed, unzipping my bag and not bothering to look as I pulled out any can of fruit.

"Well, I'm your pain,"He shrugged.

"Trust me. I know."

"I'm probably the-"

"To be fair, you let me be. I mean you're the nicest mean best friend out there."

"Can you not ruin my compliments?"He complained.

"I could, but what fun is that?"

"You're just uncomfortable with nice things being said to you."

"Wow. Thanks doc. I didn't know you were giving me a psych evaluation."

"Y/N, can't you just let me say something nice to you for once in your life?"

"Once again, I could, but why?"I repeated, eating my meal to see that I had chosen oranges. Damnit, I hate oranges. I really should have looked.

Without a word he took my can and placed his in mine.

"Aris, peaches are your favorite. Just-"

"And you hate oranges. So have a breakfast you'll actually enjoy,"He shrugged.

"It's my fault for not checking mine,"I pointed out.

"Did you check mine?"

"I don't see how that's relevant,"I argued.

"Just shut up, and eat your food."

"But-"

"I'm not taking it back so eat,"He said firmly. With a sigh, I did as he said, taking the bent can top and stabbing it. Taking a bite, I closed my eyes at the much different, much better taste than my last meal. "See? Isn't that better?"

"Yeah. It is,"I admitted. "Thanks for giving my stubborn self an enjoyable breakfast."

"Don't even mention it. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"Then, I guess I'm happy too,"He half whispered. Giving him a small nod, we just stayed silent as we ate the rest of our meal together.

"Well, I'm just happy to be out here with you,"I promised, not really looking at him as I did.

All parts

[bangtthedoldrums]

life update?

July is almost over, i think these days i'm seeing glimpses of light at the end of the 27 tunnel. why am i writing all these on tumblr, you may wonder? i'm attention-seeking, i seek attention, i fear.

(let's bffr, whose attention am i seeking when i literally have <5 followers here haha, what a melodramatic bitch)

these days i'm feeling relatively stable. i'm laughing a lot, i'm smiling a lot. i mean i was already starting to, then the whole Kamala effect kicked off and i find myself laughing at dumbass things - nothing's ever that serious lol

the astrology people on twitter were not kidding about Saturn's return. 27 has been so fucking difficult, i can see why Club 27 even exists in the first place.

i wouldn't say i was "fighting" the last few months, "fighting" to stay alive? nah. some of my friends know i'm absolutely not "fighting" in any way. i'm glad i hung around i guess?

Sufjan, you're undeniably talking to yourself in this track. i would like to answer your question if that's okay. i probably wouldn't a few months ago, but yes, now i do care if i survive this.

oh god it's finally happening i guess. the time to get over a relationship is half the time it lasted. the timeline fits i guess.

"I'm frightened of the end, I'm drowning in my self-defense" and "Think of me as what you will, I grow like a cancer" sound about right.

"Did I cross you? Did I fail to believe in positive thoughts? Our romantic second chance is dead, I buried it with the hatchet"

"If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby? You tell me, 'Life isn't that hard' " yeah. sounds about right.

the season of pain and hopelessness has passed, and with resignation and acceptance comes revelation. and that revelation is that it's over.

okay. enough about that for now. please allow me to ramble on about things that have been in my head the last few days (or last few months haha).

the first thing - i'm not sure if i'm delulu or what, but please go with me here. these days i stare into the mirror, and my face looks like it's in the process of chiseling itself out. i can see my cheekbones. my cheeks look hollower. (but that could be an illusion? from the shadow of the temple of my glasses casted on my cheeks.)

i don't know if that is part of ageing. or if i lost weight. or if i'm sick. i feel fine though. but i would not be surprised if i secretly had lung cancer all these time from all those years of cigarettes smoking, and now vaping. who knows! i look hot so whatever.

the second thing - i've been listening to chappell roan a lot the last few months, just about the time i noped out of social media lol.

i've been returning to my punk/alternative/rock roots lately. i have too much pent-up rage lately methinks. rage from grief, rage from injustice, rage from.......... actually these two are mainly it. i can't really think of anything right now.

the third thing - penn badgley is so hot. haha. as a sapphic (mostly) no man has ever made me feel anything except penn badgley. not that joe goldberg persona though, it's dan humphrey and woodchuck todd. okay fine, there were. but i would like to mention penn badgley for now 😀

the fourth thing - i've been feeling a lot more social lately. being social online helps. talking to people helps. making plans with friends whom i love, trust, and respect helps.

i wonder if i wasted all these time isolating myself. maybe i'd be better quicker. or i'd lash out for no good reason. we'll never know. i guess it also helps when the trigger of my fight or flight isn't living down the hallway anymore?

the fifth thing - i find myself funny again. not like "i'm insulting someone for shits and giggles" funny. like i could make jokes again. like my humour is back. i scrolled through my reddit account a few days back and i don't even remember most of the comments i've made with that account. i used to be so funny and quick-witted. it's all coming back slowly so i'm glad 😄

okay folks, that's all for now. i've disappeared for a while but i'm back. thank you for your patience and understanding.

27's almost over. i don't know if i "can't wait for it to be over." i don't really feel anything about getting older. i'm literally still a baby when it comes to my prefrontal cortex. or a toddler if you're particular. i guess anything can still happen from now till September, the universe's always listening !!! 😀

why the tell-all now, girl? who knows! maybe i wna start documenting stuff again. i don't remember things from the last 8 to 9 months. with everything else that went on in my head i'm surprised that i lasted this long.

maybe i wna be honest.

"Come one, come all, I'll tell you my secrets. I'm kinda like a prettier Jesus"

this must be what Lorde feels when she wrote Solar Power

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

But Who's Keeping Score?

For good, and for bad, I don't have nearly as many unfinished pieces this year, but there are still a handful that I'd like to move off the burners, so here's a last-minute WIP before the year ends. As per usual, it's got placeholders all over and isn't in a finished state.

Just in case you're sensitive to the subject matter, it focuses pre-transition characters, who use their birth names up to a point. It's not coming from a place of malice, it's just because they don't identify as men at that point in the story.

(As a side note, I somehow ended up basing this in the same continuity as Keep Making that Face, but you don't need to be familiar with it to read this.)

---

Somebody had submitted Irma’s name to the annual Nimbasa [?] poll. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t upset about it-- it was just a silly popularity contest-- but if they were being realistic, it was all about appearances. Under different circumstances, Irma wasn’t the sort to wring her hands over how attractive others did or didn’t find her, but…

But throughout her entire adult life, over and over, she’d been told how much prettier she’d be if she smiled like Emma.

Irma tried. She really, truly did. If people paid enough attention, they could see the way her eyes narrowed when she was happy, and she did her best to make her voice dynamic and expressive to show others how she felt. It just… wasn’t enough. People always took her at face value, and one thing Irma physically could not do was smile like her sister.

It wasn’t the idea of people finding her unattractive that bothered her; it was the fact that she’d have irrefutable proof that people simply didn’t understand her, and didn’t care to try.

She tried to put it from her mind and focus on work but, inevitably, someone would make a comment about her expression and she’d be forced to confront the problem again. Emma had started taking it personally. It would have been a nice gesture, but it always ended in Irma having to swoop in and intervene before she could say something that would get her fired. She loved her sister, but the extra responsibility of dragging her away by the collar every time she heard the word ‘smile’ was the last thing she needed right now.

It made sense; Emma had felt responsible for the facial paralysis ever since diagnosis, no matter how emphatically Irma told her it wasn’t her fault. The guilt of it had lessened for awhile-- once Irma made enough progress with physical therapy to emote from the nose up, and Emma relearned to read her twin’s face-- but when they’d gone on to find employment with the United Unovan Railway, people started making pointed comments. Ironically, Emma never had possessed much of a poker face, and it was plain to see that it struck her every time she happened to hear.

Some days, Irma wished she could just be a man instead. No one would lament her “resting bitch face” then-- or, if they did, then maybe the “bitch” part wouldn’t sting so much. It was a fleeting-- if frequent-- thought that she passed off without any deeper consideration.

In the end, the voting period wasn’t actually so bad. She’d tried to tell herself that, even if she came in at dead last, it was still a lot to have been nominated at all… regardless of the fact that it did feel like a cruel prank, when she was being honest; she’d never know if it had been a legitimate submission or a mean spirited joke. Surprisingly, she landed just under the median. It was still a good two dozen spots behind her sister and entire light years from someone like Elesa, but she could live with that.

What hurt the most was the discussion in the aftermath. Irma didn’t go out seeking commentary on the poll, but having been an unwilling part of it, it found her-- people lamenting that she’d somehow placed ahead of them or saying that anyone who voted for her over their preference didn’t have any taste. There were some whose talk wasn’t even negative, just incredulous. Somehow, it didn’t feel any better to be told that someone had been surprised to see her rank so highly, but congratulations!

She took to wearing a face mask during work hours, sick to death, but only of the subject matter. If people couldn’t see her lips, they might mistake her for Emma and spare her the unsolicited interjections. Emma hated that she had to resort to such measures, but couldn’t offer any other solution-- save for ripping into anyone she caught making noise.

When Elesa had caught wind of the situation, she’d taken a different track. The reassurances that it was a stupid poll to begin with, and a mid-tier placement wasn’t bad at all weren’t anything Irma hadn’t already told herself, and as much as she’d tried to be grateful for the fact that her friend cared enough to encourage her, Irma only found it exhausting. It was over now, and she just wished they could move past it. She understood that they wanted to make her feel better, but why did they have to keep revisiting the topic?

Irma had forgotten that, while the general public had proven they couldn’t read her, Elesa certainly could, and she recognized that her input was only making things worse. Instead, she took to sending Irma messages throughout the week, showing her those comments that highlighted her enthusiasm and geniality-- and even several that framed her not as distant and aloof due to her frown, but intelligent and alluring.

It was kind of her, and her efforts did actually help. Irma didn’t really know what to make of being called “alluring”, but could… appreciate the compliment? She guessed?

The years after that weren’t so bad-- it was just the first time she’d been on the board that people had seen fit to approach her about it. Frankly, the only time thereafter that it had been of any interest at all was the year a particularly nasty strain of the flu ran rampant through the city; it became commonplace for people to wear face masks in public and, with only the upper half of her face to judge by, commuters were able to recognize when Irma smiled at them in her own way. Strangely, it even reflected in that year’s poll: instead of twenty places apart, Irma found that she landed just under Emma.

It still didn’t mean anything in the long run, but it was… nice to feel like people could begin to see her for what she was, rather than what she wasn’t.

The year after that, he’d come out to his sibling and they’d drawn up rough schematics for a train car that could withstand the wear and tear of battle. Both of them had been somewhat absent from the public eye as they brought the idea to both the head of the UUR and the Pokemon League, then subsequently been made to prove the concept. Surely polling happened that year, but both of the twins were too caught up in their project to pay it even the slightest bit of attention. It meant even less than usual that time, when they’d only be put in the wrong category.

Which brought them to this year.

The battle cars were perfectly functional and the system was promising. They’d debuted the mini-battle facility using different names from what people knew, and hosted only multi battles-- it set the subway apart from the gym challenge, and it also let them focus on their specialty, honing it to perfection. The somewhat dramatic coming out hadn’t had any bearing on that; it had just been convenient timing.

So far, the Battle Subway was a hit. They’d had coworkers express an interest in joining up, and had successfully proven the concept to the League; while it wasn’t guaranteed at this point, there was even talk of broadening the system to include more common battle styles.

With the prospect of expanding the services on the table, Ingo had been focused on how to make it work. There was a fair amount of interest in battling for a living, but so far, no other trainers who could serve as the final milestone for a line dedicated to single or double battles. While he and Emmet were certainly capable of filling those gaps, he needed to figure out how to make the timing work; using a win streak kept them from being swamped so far, so maybe it was just a matter of tweaking the existing system? How many wins could they reasonably expect a trainer to achieve? It was difficult to say. Not everyone was as… enthusiastic as he and his twin were, but if they’d boarded looking for a battle, then it wasn’t unfair to provide a certain amount of challenge…

He heard the lock turn, snapping him back to reality, and belatedly pulled a [blob] of accumulated fur from the comb he’d been moving on autopilot. It was the interruption of the pattern that caused Excadrill to look up, disturbed out of the doze it had fallen into.

On the other side of the front door, two muffled voices chattered back and forth, but went strangely quiet when they finally crossed into the apartment. Ingo sighed internally and braced himself for whatever trick would eventually be leveled at him.

[wishblown]

The narrative that unfolds over the next five chapters is about the dead, but of course all stories about the dead are really about the living.

— Erin-Marie Legacey; Making Space for the Dead

January Reads!

On Women by Susan Sontag — 4/5: really solid collection of essays, definitely worth getting your hands on; especially to have them all in one place and to be able to draw connections. Sontag’s first essay of this particular collection (The Double Standard of Aging) is probably my favourite and the perfect opener; so concise, doesn’t sugarcoat, quintessential Sontag. The Salmagundi Interview was super interesting to read as well, as were her responses to other feminist critics/writers of the time. Even when I find myself disagreeing with Sontag, there’s still something gained from being able follow along her argument.

Making Space for the Dead by Erin-Marie Legacey — 4.75/5: I got this from the library after the author was a guest on a podcast I listen to and the way she talked about her work and this book in particular just fascinated me — the book did not disappoint! fantastic read if you’re at all interested in urban burial culture (in France) particularly around the time of the French Revolution. not much prior knowledge necessary as (historical) context is mostly given and explained. the way Legacey takes you through time is so interesting, sometimes funny (bc it’s about people), pretty gory at times, and oftentimes even touching. so glad I read this! even helped me learn more about (post-)Revolutionary France

War of the Foxes by Richard Siken — 5/5: have read this collection so many times at this point, I always take it with me when I move somewhere even when it’s only a temporary home just to have it by my side (and for poetry/life emergencies). still as important to me as it was when I first read it as a teenager, I’m just discovering new parts, patterns, meanings, familiarities.

Crush by Richard Siken — 5/5: what’s there left to say. same as above. an essential. a need.

Kindred by Octavia E. Butler — 5/5: read this together with a friend as part of our long-distance book club as we’d both been meaning to get into Butler’s work for some time now. it’s also so fun to read something at the same time as them and hear their thoughts on what we’ve been reading, especially when it’s a complex novel such as Kindred. what made this extra fun was that the edition I got from the library had discussion questions for classrooms at the end so we actually ended up kinda going through those as well. (my friend’s a literature grad and super smart and well read so it’s always so enlightening to hear their thoughts). this has been a long tangent about the tiniest book club. Kindred is a masterpiece! Butler’s voice is so different to a lot of other writers I’ve read, less descriptive, ‘poetic’ writing, more matter of fact, telling you how it is, which results in removing some of the barriers between narrator and reader especially in intense scenes. She does this without ever losing the reader though, you’re still right there, just without the ‘flowery’ language and the separation that metaphors can create bc Butler simply has no need for them and kinda also does not allow you to flee into ‘prettier’ words (hopefully that makes sense; Butler’s writing was just so distinct to me). And her characters! The nuance and depth she creates, for some in just a few short scenes. As someone who’s read a fair amount of scifi and time travel literature I’ve also really liked how it was done here, how the time travel was instrumentalised. Incredible work, I’m so glad I finally got around to reading it.

Pick Me Girls by Sophie Passmann — 4.5/5: not quite a memoir but not a book that tries to speak for everyone either (which is one of the issues some took with it I think). Passmann goes over her own history as a ‘pick me’ and analyses the phenomenon through her personal experiences and a feminist lense. some of the conclusions she comes to are interesting and I liked that she was critical with her own past actions whilst recognising the circumstances that led to her behaviour and that it’s ok to know and do better now. it’s a call for women to perhaps dare to be pick mes in the way that they should allow themselves to pick themselves and be loud and how it’s okay to try to be unique (if you’re not simply trying to separate yourself from other women for the sake of it) if that’s what it takes to free yourself from the need to please others. it’s not a bad read at all if you’re aware that the author isn’t trying to speak for everyone.

[esther-dot]

"Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice."- Dany(ADWD VII).

"Fearing nothing, he chased her and caught her and loved her, though her(CQ) skin was cold as ice, and when he gave his seed to her he gave his soul as well."- Bran(ASOS IV).

Dany dreaming about having sex with Hizdahr and The Night watch brother(NK) have sex with the Corpse Queen who has skin cold as ice. The way I see that Dany is having sex with dead man or maybe death in metaphorical way.

So, une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir has patiently explained many times (because I always forget) that Martin often uses sex as a metaphor for war, so we can look at this dream about sex as Dany going to war with a "dead man."

I've seen spec of Euron being the potential owner of the ice dick since he and Dany seem bound to collide. I don't doubt they will (I have some of that spec in this tag), only, Dany v Jon has much more emotional payoff? Dueling heirs to the Targ dynasty, long lost Targs/the last ones after Dany goes after Aegon, and the end of it all being Stark v Targ as well as Targ v Targ (since Westeros cares about dads but we care about Jon being Lyanna's son too) is just, a nice way to make a meeting and then conflict personally meaningful to the characters and therefore to us, so my tendency was to think Jon. I once wrote a post about Dany and a dead man/dead man's revenge, that's another reason why my mind goes there. So, we could read this strictly as a power struggle.

But, now that you mentioned it, personification of death is part of ASOIAF, we've pointed to Sansa's parallels with Persephone, so we have some myth thrown in there as well which means we could read the corpse queen as a gender swapped version of Hades/Persephone in which, rather than the man tricking the woman into eating a pomegranate seed and thereby sealing her fate, the man gives the woman his seed and dooms himself. That could be a horrible fate, both of those quotes can be read as someone being taken by death. In fact, Martin uses "thrust" a lot with swords, so the cold, seemingly cruel, and violent vibes of Dany's dream def makes sense that way. It could simply be death, as you suggest.

I looked at how rarely, and often in a negative way, ice comes up in Dany's chapters over here, and because of how Martin uses "thrust" with sex and swords, how often swords are euphemism for a penis, it all does feel mixed together to me so I gathered these quotes together:

My thought was a) it doesn’t sound romantic even if it is sexual b) an ominous husband thrusting things into Dany reminded me of these quotes: "Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?"          The king frowned. "A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it."  (AGOT, Eddard II) and this  Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."                  "Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast. "A steel kiss," said Littlefinger.                  Robert turned to face his Hand. "Well, there it is, Ned. You and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?"  (AGOT, Eddard VIII) The blend of violence and sex in Dany’s chapters is pretty consistent, and Martin uses swords as a euphemism for a penis, so he has associated this more broadly too. And of course, in Davos chapters we’ve been given the story of a man stabbing a woman in the heart to save the world which gave birth to the “Jon will sacrifice a willing Dany to save the world” takes and would you look at that, our word again: Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. (ASOS, Davos V) (link)

I understand all the different interpretations of the passage, I don't even disagree, but I still think it's ultimately also pointing in one, unfortunate, direction. I'm not really sure what to do with the Corpse Queen story tbh, I think I had notes about it and additional passages to read but I lost them in drafts somewhere!

[copperlinecharacters]

@aristobun - Names have been changed but here's a story that may have healed a rather deep wound in me. Enjoy! <3 TW: violence implied

Fun Fact: All images were created through AI text prompt.

“All you’ll ever be is a stepping stone for the men that use you and throw you away. Remember my beautiful little fool, there’s always someone out there that’s prettier, smarter, and willing to do what you won’t to keep your fella satisfied.”

Her mother’s voice flittering in and out of her head, a hellish echo from her childhood and her growing up years on a vast plot of land referred simply as the Copperline by the locals. It took her back to that rambling hodgepodge of a house with the coal stove and the root cellar built into the dig out hillside and its rooms with ceilings at odd angles and the doors that went seemingly nowhere. 

“Now what’re you goin’ to do with her, Mar?”

Was what her father would have asked if he’d been sitting in the passenger seat next to her.  Here she sat with the station wagon idling as she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were turning white as her face turned red as a beet, clashing horribly with her red hair. 

Worthless. Selfish. Stupid. 

She could almost feel the blows landing from those long ago locked away memories of mother’s wrath. Mary could almost feel the hands gripping at her throat again and quickly blocked the thought away back into the box. Heart pounding and eyes welling up with fresh tears from past pain a knock at the window sounded. Gil Betcher, the undertaker and funeral coordinator at Palmer & Higgins Funeral Home had popped out and was holding a cordless phone. All while trying to keep his suit dry and his hairpiece in place as it flapped in the late summer wind as the storm rolled in. The sandy blonde piece of carpet resembled a dead squirrel so closely that Mary’s eyes bugged for a moment half thinking she was seeing him be attacked in the parking lot.

“It’s for you!”

Cranking down the wind hurriedly Mary gave him a look of thanks and accepted the heat plastic weight. 

“Ms. Pettymore…It’s Charlene at The Whispering Pines.”

“Yes?”

It had been ages since anyone had thought Mary wasn’t married. Alas, she’d been married since she was 18. Her marriage to Bill Higgins, the one and very same whose name was on the building had been a rushed one and that was a story for another day. 

“We went in to give your father his pain medication and I’m sorry, Mrs. Higgins but your father has passed away.

“How long ago?”

A quick shuffle of paper and she had her answer. 

“Ten minutes ago.”

‘Ten minutes I could have had with him but I was here picking up this bitch.’

Mary thought to herself as her mouth set in a firm straight line as she cast a side long glare at the lavender hued monstrosity of an urn that held the last remains of the former Mrs. Cecelia Ann Pettymore. Or Celia as she had been known to the few that called her friend. $1600 for a Grecian style naturally occurring Roman marble finished with gold fixtures and name plate with custom engraving of her name and dates. 

“Well, good news, Charlene. I’ve got Gil right here. He’ll be over to collect him very shortly.”

Passing the phone back to Gil she pulled the car into reverse and stopped quickly, tires squealing slightly. The heart clenching nausea and knots tangled in her mind slipped for a moment and Mary Pettymore-Higgins’ niceties and manners simply fell away much like her world had fallen apart. Her filter flew off and her ID took over.

“He’s gone Gilbert. He’s over at the Pines room 1802 in the blue wing. Go and pick him up, please.”

Gil Betcher straightened himself a little taller, back into business mode. 

“Are you thinking of doing the complete Gold package?”

Mary was almost surprised at her ID’s straight forwardness as she watched her own hand shoot out from the driver’s side window and grab hold of the first thing she could, Gil’s crotch, and squeeze just a firmly as she did her steering wheel. This sleaze bag that worked for her husband and herself, a man she herself had cooked for every holiday since she had married into the Higgins family, had the balls to ask her if she was going to be tacking on another $845 to her own father’s funeral not ten minutes after his passing. 

“Did. I. ASK you about the gold package, boy? I. TOLD you to go and pick his earthly body up for cremation. You’ll have him done tomorrow afternoon by 4PM and I WILL be picking him up at 4 on the goddamn dot.”

Each important word was punctuated by what was surely a heart stopped harder squeeze to the undertaker’s nether region. A horrified shriek squeak left the man’s mouth as he saw a definite change in the woman he knew to be as gentle as a lamb. Everyone in the town of Miller’s Ridge knew what kind of life she’d had growing up. Then she married the biggest skirt chasing Tom Catter in town. Perhaps this is what finally pushed that poor sweet woman over the edge. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Pulling her arm back she threw the car in reverse again and peeled out heading left sharply enough to cut off Irene Lumming’s silver chevy as it tried to turn in into the lot. Irene honked and called a rude name from her window just in time to be cracked in the face with a Stop N’ Sip mug thrown with surprisingly good aim by Mary as she completed the turn followed by a 

“Piss off, Irene!”

“You see this shit, Gil?!”

Irene had yelled before pulling into her reserved spot on the right hand side of the car park towards the beauty salon where she worked. 

“Her Daddy’s gone now too, Irene.”

“Aww hell this town don’t stand a chance now that she’s getting her feeling back. Always knew she fiery but she’s always been so sweet. Think she’s gone and cracked up?”

“Hard life n’ it’s hard to tell presently.” 

Was all Gil was able to say as he tried very hard not to focus on the dull bruising ache that was throbbing below the belt. He now wondered if she’d done permanent damage. He feared that she might do worse to him if she circled back and still saw him standing here like a damn goober eating idiot.

Somewhere down Snapping Turtle Lane the Buick Electra Estate Wagon owned by Mrs. Mary Higgins was officially owning up to its horse power. The gravel kicking up behind her made her smile for a moment until she caught a glimpse of a familiar bottle blonde bouffant in her rearview. Sharp blue eyes locked onto her own as the form took better shape. The smell of Roman Sunset perfume and Tellings-Boyce cigarettes filled her car as Celia took shape once more. The she sat, perched and looking like she could back hand Mary from where she sat. Her black shift dress paired with pearls and pillbox reminded Mary of the night of her graduation night. Her mother had backhanded her for asking where her graduation cap had gone and called her an idiot of getting a black eye and losing her cap. There were still photos of her vain attempt at covering her shiner as best she could with makeup and her long red hair. Bill had still proposed to her that night to her and even told her she was pretty as a picture even with it. The following month they were married, he was working for father and she was cleaning houses for the well to do’s around Lake Mitchum.

“Where are you off to, girly? Running away?”

Slamming on the brakes for a moment she came to a screeching halt enough to find the urn onto the floorboards with a solid thunk.

“No, Cecelia. I’m not running away. I’m taking care of you once and for all.”

Turning into the familiar driveway she eased herself up to the garage and hurried in and set to work. She could have sworn she felt her mother follow her every move. 

“You may as well sit down if you intend to watch this.”

Mary said as she rummaged through the hall closet for her stash. The wooden box she kept it in hadn’t change since she had discovered the plant’s wonders in her teens. Bill had been the one to get her stoned out in the rushes by the Copperline Creek. Alas, he had changed massively after they married he became, slowly, what he was now. A man that couldn’t keep his dick in his pants if the world depended on it. She knew he had girls all over the counties but right now she could care less about him and his flings, she’d deal with all that and him later. 

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Came a bark from the depths of her mind as she smelled that stupid perfume and heard that voice.

“I’m planning to get myself calmed down so I can deal with you, Mother.”

Cornflower blue eyes blinked at her as Mary sat herself down at the kitchen table and went about the ritual she loved deeply. The spicy sweet heavy scent of it hit her and she smirked at the scowl she imagined her mother sitting across from her at the tidy kitchen table. 

“No good drugged up hippy. No wonder Bill steps out on you. Wasting his money on yourself with that awful addiction.”

Deftly picking apart the heady green bud she rolled herself quite possibly the largest joint she’d ever crafted, lit it and inhaled deeply holding as she listened to her mother’s voice before she exhaled a rather large plume of smoke in Celia’s direction, squarely hitting her mother’s face. 

“Shut the hell up.”

Celia bristled at that fact that it wasn’t as request but a command. 

“Why are you making another one?”

“Because you and I are going on a small trip and I’m going to need backup Which reminds me…”

Grabbing a sandwich baggie, the weed and an extra lighter she wrote out a note to Bill telling him that dinner was in the crock pot and went about taking the stash of cash she’d fond in one of his favorite hiding spots. $600 was  there, she’d thought of only taking fifty of it but she’d had a change of heart as she thought back to their anniversary and how he’d spent it with Kelli Stetler two counties over hold up in a sleazy little no tell motel with a heart shaped tub and tacky red decor.  She’d had a feeling and followed him there, had the photos to prove it and entrusted the key to the safe deposit box to her oldest and dearest friend, Misty Chanter, for safe keeping. 

“Beer money.”

Celia almost smirked at that one but still regarded her with deep suspicion. Grabbing her purse once more she spotted the Hoover vacuum sitting in the corner where she’d left it last night after coming home and cleaning the place top to bottom. Bill, as usual, was gone ‘on business.’ A fresh bag was grabbed and it was toted out the station wagon along with an overnight bag she’d packed and kept for when this day came. Stopping by the gas station she filled her gas tank. She’d completely forgotten that she was still puffing away on her hand roll until she’d nearly burnt her lip. Snuffing it out in the ashtray she slipped the next one into her pocket and went into the Quiker Liquor cash and carry and bought herself a twelve pack of Schlitz and a bottle of Schnapps, the cherry kind that she used to love at bonfires and tailgates. She’d not realized that the second joint had migrated from her pocket to her lips as she browsed the selection of lottery tickets in the glass display in the front of the counter.

“I-I’m not sure you can smoke that in here, Mrs. Higgins.”

Came a squeaky voiced statement from the kid, Jeremy Holden, who Mary used to babysit. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, Jeremy. Just need this and the change and one of these…

She stopped as she grabbed a bottle opener from the display by the register. 

“Oh and it’s Ms. Pettymore, actually or it will be once Burt Fleischer serves Bill at 6:45 today.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do with that information but he could tell by her demeanor Mrs. Higgins  Ms. Pettymore was certainly dealing with something big. She gave him a pretty smile and off she went smelling like some of the best home grown he’d never get the chance to try until he was at college. In his nineteen year old heart he almost felt sorry for Bill Higgins. Especially as Mary walked away with a swing in her hips. The fact that he saw her pull out of the parking spot like the hounds of hell were on her tail made him slightly envious of her driving skills. 

“So…you’re planning on getting tanked, drugged up and going back to my house? Why?”

Ever the lady even in death, Celia kept her ankles and knees tightly closed together. Flicking on the radio Zeppelin filled the car. The scowl on her mother’s face deepened and made Mary thrum with a sort of joy that made her almost positive that she’d lost her mind. 

“Oh. Surely you mean my house, right?”

Owl eyes and ruffled feathers from the not to friendly ghost on the backseat. In a blink Celia was shotgun and trying to grab the wheel. Even in death her fingernails resembled talons. The only difference was that they couldn’t inflict pain or damage. 

“That house’ll never be yours! It’s MINE!”

“Wrong!”

Her voice rang out sharp and quick like heat lightning and it was enough to the pin the Spector of her mother to her seat in silent shock. According to family lore that dated back to the 1700s and the settling of the town itself it was to be passed to the continued line of sons blood line. Being Mary was the literal last of the settling line to be born to the final son it was bittersweet. There was also the legal state of things. Her mother left no will, her father, Herschel  had had the good sense to prepare as best he could with the time given to him, all six months of it. According to the Commonwealth Mary Colleen Pettymore-Higgins was the brand spanking new owner of 445 acres of land, one rambling farmhouse and a rental property at the end of Pettymore Hollow which ensured a steady and tidy little sum each month. As of right this moment each month’s rent was being put partially towards monthly tax payments to keep up to date and partially put into savings that only Mary had access to.

 “Legally, the state recognizes me as the sole heir and as executrix of Dad’s estate it’s mine, clean cut and dried. I’m leaving Bill. I’m starting over.”

“I’ll haunt you for this you spoiled little brat.”

“You haunted me while you were alive so suck it, bitch.”

“You think you have it so easy. To leave someone that doesn’t love you. Well, it’s not so simple when you have an overly dependent child clinging to the apron strings that you never wanted.”

With a puff of smoke Celia was gone, the cloying smell of magnolia flowers and menthol smoke left behind. One stop of the hardware store out on Route 9 and there was nothing stopping her from setting out what she set to do. Glancing at the clock on the dash it read 12:30. She hadn’t thought her plan was going to be put into action so quickly but here she was, ahead of time.  As she took a turn around the bend that lead onto the winding private lane she sighed. That statement about Mary not being wanted had stopped hurting around the time that she had turned 13. It held no feeling anymore, it was simply a harsh fact of reality that she found herself living with and trying to put behind her as best that she could. For the most part the wound had healed but every now and then a sharp pang of grief over the type of mother Celia could have been gets to her.  

“You gave me arms you frigid bitch on wheels. You gave me working arms and legs.”

That particular motto came about when Mary was about 17 or so and had stuck to this day at age 35. A silent prayer of thanks that she had found herself without children with Bill. Things were better that way it seemed. He volunteered his time teaching Driver’s Ed and coaching football that with his full time job owning the only Insurance/Travel agency in four counties and taking over the funeral home from his father that it was a miracle he was home. Well, that and the fact that he had many dalliances outside their marriage. Mary liked to think that a man like her husband had children. Just not with their wife. She was just the asshole that shared his name, gold bands and monogrammed bath towels with.

“Everything a Higgins touches turns to gold.  Keep him happy and you’ll never have to worry that head of yours you beautiful little fool.”

Celia’s voice was back in her head again.  The third joint joined the last two as the tank of a car wound around the snake curves of the driveway. The place had been kept up but it was now the scraggly tail end of summer. The station wagon slowly marched itself towards the oldest and newest destination in her mind. She could almost see herself running barefoot in the woods with her dog Blue long hair waving in the wind at ten years old. Around the next turn she saw herself running and panicked from Celia after she’d been drinking, around the time Mary had turned 16. It hadn't been long after that run for freedom that Cella ended up in County Home Hospital fora 'sudden breathing and heart related issue.' Shutting that one away she focused on the memory of her first best friend, Blue. A tiny terrier mix with eyes like her own, a mix of blue and hazel with a spritely shot of green through the right. Mary’s on her left. She adored that little dog and had many a year until his back leg was broken in a fall and her mother refused to have it treated promptly when asked to take him to an appointment. Mary had been away on honeymoon and had received a phone call from their frantic housekeeper, Tilly. He had been treated initially for what was supposedly a simple break in his hind leg. He had survived the initial surgery and two weeks at home with both Bill and Mary taking turns with him and trying to find the new normal for her beloved pet. He had died in her arms and she knew that that day she had lost a part of her soul. In all realities he had been the closest thing she would ever come to having a child. A sad realization to have at her age that it still pained her. Pushing that thought aside with the others to be locked away in its own box. Her car had nosed itself to the very top of the final curve of the driveway and the house was coming into view with its ancient weathervane first. Which ever family member had decided to have a wolf’s head as the animal protecting the house made her laugh. Parking off to the left of the bird bath and feeder she sat there before lighting her joint. The auxiliary was left on and the radio played an old lush sounding Velvet Underground song, the timeless ode to Sweet Jane.

“Sing it, Lou.”

Tilting the driver’s seat back she inhaled deeply taking a quick second hit and holding it down.  Her eyes felt heavy and she could have sworn she was floating.

The song quickly switched to something that made her think of her father’s opinion of Bill.

“That boy’s gonna roll you like some dice, Mary.”

“It’s alright, the Deuce’s still wild, Daddy.”

A slow exhale as she sang long 

“Oh you got to roll me…and man did he ever. This one’s for you, Pop.”

Taking one last hit before shutting the car off she blinked back tears at the memory of happier times, what few there were, with Bill. Snuffing the roach and grabbing her bags from the car she made her way up onto the front porch. A year’s worth of old dried out leaves crunched under her feet as she fished out her keys and juggled her things before the front door swung open. She was greeted with a great plume of dust from the front entrance. 

“Welcome home indeed.”

She muttered as she mentally sorted herself out. The power was still on, she’d had the good sense to keep the power on strictly because she honestly thought her father was coming back home one last time. 

I thought the same thing too, dammit.

His voice sounded from the side of her, the ‘good living room’ as her mother had called it. He was still in that room and still in that god awful chair. Tufted watered silk with swan feathers stitched into the most nauseatingly intricate pattern in cream on lavender. It had been deemed 'fit for her king' and her father had simply rolled his eyes at that. It wasn't a secret that Cecelia Ann Palmer-Pettymore had taken to stepping out on her husband. It's just was women of her status did she had rationalized on evening on a very long card ride home from the summer camp, Wiholka Lake Camp, after her Granny Pettymore passed away. Mary had been twelve and still adjusting to her maturing body.

Herschel Jean Pettymore was as alive as he’d been when Mary had left him at Whispering Pines only a few hours ago.  He had been sitting up, propped by endless pillows, dressed in his most comfortable t-shirt advertising the grain silo that had their name carefully painted onto the side and lounge pants. He'd been ten deep into the Miller's Ridge Record's weekly crossword puzzle and his second cup of coffee when he'd sent her out to pick up a very specific type of rolling paper. Just as she had kissed his cheek and hugged him a nurse came in and told her that Gil Better had called saying that her mother was ready for pick up. Given that she and Bill had a night out planned her father insisted she kill two birds with one stone, pick up the papers and her mother and then head home to primp herself up a little bit. She saw him just as clearly as she had seen Celia. Instead of a mind’s eye image of a particular snapshot in time, her father was dressed much like he always had been. Heavy canvas work pants, white t-shirt and a tan pocket chambray button down over it. Hair still gleaming from the pomade and smelling of a mix of Slick Shine and Baron cologne. Quite the hell of a juxtaposition of the tacky taste her mother loved. Catalog class, as Herschel had called it. Those that didn’t have good taste naturally assumed that they could throw enough money at the problem but you couldn’t change the spots on the leopard that was matriarch of the family. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you like I did. I knew you’d be ok…you’re a tough one. You never let her beat you, Mar Bear.”

In a blink he was fading as he waved to her. She wasn’t entirely sure how to take what her father had said. As in the past? It was true, Celia hadn’t broken her spirit too badly and what she had managed to chip off Mary had glued back on herself somehow. If he had meant it as a warning she’d have thought he’d have had the sense of mind to actually sound much more serious about it. 

“Smoke one for me, huh kid?”

His faded completely from view as the light changed and filtered softly through a different patch of tree line that had caught her eye out the window. Her mind drifted hazily as she exhaled one last time softly. Her hands were shaking as she rummaged through the hardware store bag. Finding the screwdriver she picked the lavender monstrosity that was her mother’s urn, and supposed final resting place. In her mind back when she was living Celia may have thought she’d have pride of place a top the mantle in the formal living room that she coveted and had decorated in her signature colors of Provincial Creme Ivory and Luscious Lavender Lace. Accented in Grecian Gold. The very room thought of having to go into that room made her queasy for a moment. The knot only releasing once she opened her eyes and saw that she was indeed the only thing with a pulse in the house. 

‘Tackle one thing at a time, Mary.’

She thought to herself as she picked up both the urn, a hammer and the screw driver she needed. The thought struck her to do this act of supposed desecration, if she chose to look at it that way, on Celia’s prized white oak doing table but ultimately decided against it and took herself out onto the back porch to do the deed. It had been many years since she had truly prayed for her own soul and its forgiveness. There was that one time five years ago that she’d managed to hit that squirrel but she had viewed that as a mercy killing as the damn thing had already had a broken leg as it stepped into the path of her car.  

“Dear God…it’s me…Mary. Uhm…please forgive me for what I’m about to do but I can’t have this woman in my house. I’m setting her free and hoping she understands that I needed to do this to draw a line for myself. I could never stand up to her when she was alive so I’m doing it now. I know it sounds cowardly but I think it’s better this way. Amen.”

The urn itself would have been nice enough if it had been on a thrift store shelf and used for fake flowers. By an old woman named Florence who lived in a gated retirement community in Boca Raton Florida. Celia’s love of pastels and cream had been legendary from her decor, to her chosen fashions, to her desserts at the church potluck. 

Probably those horrible Arum lilies that she loved so damn much. 

Forcing down the urge to gag she gingerly picked up the urn and put it down on its side to inspect the sliding cover on the bottom. It had advertised as an ‘easy open’ urn for eventual scattering if the family wanted the option.  The base slid easily open in her hand and revealed a thick heavy white screw plugging the hole. She knew righty tight lefty loosey but this was insane. It finally dawned on her to attempt to use the flathead screwdriver and hammer as a chisel to get the plug out. 

“You’ve lost you ever lovin’ mind, girl!”

“Ahh, knew you’d be back.”

“What are you doing?! That was the Queen’s Splendor urn that took six months to come from Italy!”

Swing and a miss with the hammer and screwdriver a solid gouge was made into the back porch. Laughing hollowly Mary turned to where her mother would have chosen to stand. Looking her form up and down she found herself severely unnerved that her mother lacked feet.

“Cripes on a trike! Do me a favor and form some legs and feet, please, Mother.”

“Girl, you keep calling me Mother like that and I’m tempted to do something hateful.”

This was her third swing and a miss and her temper was flaring at the fact her own mother’s spirit, or rather her mind’s interpretation of it had taken to actually calling her the name her mother had always referred to her as. This time though instead of making a gouge in the wood of the decking the screwdriver chipped a piece of marble the size of a half dollar off and hitting Celia between the eyes. 

“Call me girl one more time, Mrs. Pettymore and I’ll flush your dusty ass down the Stop N’ Sip bathroom.”

For the third time her mother greatly resembled an highly uncomfortable large mouth bass whose lips had been glued shut. 

“And it won’t even be the indoor one! If you so much as think of doing something to screw me up, over or sideways ever again you’ll end up in that Rent-a-Toilet out back.”

A terrified and highly undignified frustrated squeal of rage escaped Celia’s thin birdlike lips.

“Alright…alright. I give. Wh…where are you scattering me?”

“Out by the lilac bush next to the left side of the old chicken coop.”

“I hated those birds.”

“You loved that one…Sissy. Damn thing hated me but you loved the color of the eggs she laid.”

A small smile graced Celia’s face for a moment. 

“I’m glad you remembered I like lilacs.”

Another swing and a tink and piece near the rim went flying out into the yard. For a moment Mary almost felt badly about destroying the stupid urn. Bill had come over one day and he and Celia had gotten on the subject of her passing, which in all reality was a good six years off and he had gotten her to take the bait on a model he couldn’t budge. Gil had gotten skunk drunk one night and screwed up a serial number by a single digit and now Palmer-Higgins had 100 of these stupid faux Grecian urns in a rainbow of ugly shades. 

“Damn things look like they belong in your Mama’s bathroom, Mary.”

“Why not see if she wants one? This had Celia’s here written all over it.”

And that had been that, Celia had been gifted one and that sparked the town’s women of a certain age with access to disposable income to flock in and order their own in their ‘signature colors’. Mary had been told that it would serve her well to adopt buttercup yellow or spring green but she kept her wardrobe rather simple with earth and jewel tones in protest. Celia never did find out that the urn itself hadn’t quite come from Rome, Italy as she’d believed. It had instead come from Rome, New York to Miller’s Ridge. 

“How could I forget? You’re the only Lady Lucille cosmetics seller to actually earn the coveted lilac Lincoln.”

That damn car was etched into her memory after the fact that she’d sustained her first concussion when she was smacked in the head by the back passenger door in the parking lot of Floyd’s Department store and knocked unconscious. Celia hadn’t even bothered to take her to the local urgent care to get checked over. Just gave her some children’s Tylenol and told her not to fall asleep.  The scent of the lilac air fresheners ( a Lady Lucille exclusive that came with each car service it seemed ) mingled with Roman Sunset, Speedy Spray hairspray her cigarettes combined with the bleariness of the head injury it had been a surreal experience but she had kept herself awake until her father’s mother her granny Pearl had looked at her and taken her into town to Doc Heinz. 

Pay dirt! The plug gave and popped off somewhere towards the right revealing a plastic bag filled with grey dust. Tipping it out did nothing except visibly upset the ghost of the departed.  Mary couldn’t even bring herself to think of her mother as dearly right now. Perhaps with time but as she sat here her legs crossed crisscross applesauce shaking the ever loving shit out of the urn of the woman that she loved but couldn’t find herself to actually like she felt an urge to chuck the damn thing and see if it bounced. Intrusive inquisitive thoughts won out and the lavender mess was heaved down the steps to see if the cremains loosened. They didn’t much to Mary’s charging and Celia’s unabashed glee. 

“FUCK!”

A murder of crows took the sky at her verbal assault to the air that was clearly directed at the urn. Throwing down the hammer and screwdriver with a groan Mary rubbed her face for a moment before she noticed the baby blue paint on the covered porch ceiling  was chipping terribly. Another thing to add to her to do that would quite possibly help calm her in some way. 

One thing at a time, Mar. One Damn thing at a time.

“Good luck on trying to get me out of there, Mrs. Higgins.

The sneer that painted her mother’s features was audible in her voice. 

“This blows…”

Blows. Vacuum. The vacuum! Scrambling up to her feet and sprinting back to the car she found the Huber vacuum, a wedding gift from Bill himself way back in the day. A fresh bag in her left hand and carefully carrying it back onto the back porch Mary smiled. 

“What in the hell? What’re you going to do Huber me out of my final well deserved resting place?”

Switching out the attachment to an extended telescopic hose with narrowed tip for nooks and crannies ( usually air vents and corners) a smile graced Mary’s face.

“Hell yes..”

A quick prayer was said over the vacuum as the extension chord was plugged into the outdoor outlet and the switch was flipped. A scream filled the air the momentarily rivaled the roar of the motor as grey ash made its way down a dark tube and into an ocean scented prison. The moment the pressure changed and a chunk shot up the tube Mary startled. The weed was finally hitting her as her body loosened up. The drooping feeling tugged at her just behind the eyes. The pitch of airflow changed, signaling an empty vessel. Popping the plug back into the base and covering it with the slide cover the entire urn was buried quickly in a deep sink hole at the back most southern corner without much ceremony. The vacuum was disassembled and shoved into a contractor’s garbage bag and left for trash pick up at the end of the lane. The actual bag holding the ashes was scattered right where she promised it and nowhere else. 

You’ll never know just how much I loved and cared for you. More than you ever dared to do for me but I never for a moment hated you for it. I couldn’t ever…you were the only mother I was ever given and I loved you without shame. Without the expectation of anything ever in return. Of all the things I’ve ever wanted or needed from you I hope you’ve found a place to belong and finally just be.. I hope you’re happy wherever you and if you’re not you’ll learn exactly why you’re there. 

A deep inhale took her. The weed had loosened her up enough to finally let that lump go from her throat. There were so many things she had left unsaid, that they had both left unsaid, so to clear the air Mary let out a scream. She figured something primal might help the healing process before she made a few phone calls.

“THANKS FOR THE LEGS, MA!”

Inside in the kitchen the phone rang. Rolling her eyes Mary sighed and turned to go inside and stopped herself as she heard the answering machine crackle to life. The faux wood monster that took up an entire hall table whirred on. Burt Fleischer’s voice filled the room, a jovial sign that William Danforth Buell Higgins had indeed been served with divorce papers. 

“Fuck me running have I been out here all this time?”

Mary said to herself as traipsed into the house, catching a look at herself she heavily resembled a lobster and winced. 

“Well, this is going be a long strange trip, ain’t it?”

[lilbreck]

ST:TOS 101- The Man Trap

Here’s the thing, if we’re not supposed to ship Kirk with McCoy and Spock, then they shouldn’t have done so many soft gaze/smolder close-ups of Shatner when he was looking at either men. I don’t remember that happening a lot with women. I guess we’ll see as the rewatch continues.

Either way, let us talk about the episode where McCoy brings the boys around to meet an old flame, and it does not go to plan. And I will be sneaking in a few of my old graphics, just because.

I’m showing this first shot just because I like to see Uhura up front occasionally as well as seeing Spock in the captain’s chair. Yes, I will add in a shippy cap later for those of you who ship it. The second shot is to show that there are some changes from The Cage, and one of them is that they upgraded their big screen TV.

During the rewatch, one of the funny moments is when my daughter glanced at the screen and was convinced that Starfleet was too cheap to get pants that fit. It took me too long to figure out where she was getting that idea.

In case you can’t see where she got the idea, she thought the phasers were pulling down the waistbands of Kirk and Darnell’s pants. I had to tell her that those were sash/holsters and not actually their midriffs showing.

My daughter felt the need to point out that these were not flowers, instead they were a sprig of wheat. But I do like that we get full on McKirk flirting. Yes, I will be spending this post talking about this particular ship. I cannot help it. It colors everything I see in this episode. For example:

McCoy sees Nancy as she was when he last saw her: 10 years younger than she should be. Darnell sees some random woman from a pleasure planet (and is very rude and disrespectful about how he announces it). Meanwhile, what does Kirk see?

He sees Nancy looking probably about the age she should be. Now, this could mean Kirk is attracted to distinguished looking women with greying hair… or he just really wants reassurance that McCoy isn’t going to leave him for someone younger and prettier. You can guess which one I choose to believe… though I wouldn’t argue against that other one either.

I will not be posting screencaps of it, but I am still disgusted that Kirk just reached into the dead man’s mouth. Apparently, in the future, no one knows better than to go around poking and proding dead bodies with their bare hands. I’ll ignore the question of how the fuck he knew there would be something in there given that he wasn’t shown to be looking at all, he just honed directly onto that poor guys mouth. I will also ignore how obvious it was that the actor was opening his mouth wider.

Side note: I’m impressed with how commited they are to making sure everyone in the outdoor scenes looks like they’re fresh out of a sauna except, it seems, for “Nancy.” I’m wondering if that’s just because it’s an actress, or because the character is a freaking salt vampire. My daughter said “both.”

One of these is strictly for the Spock/Uhura shippers, while the other is for me because both drama and damn but Nichelle is stunning in every scene:

When McCoy finally figures out that Darnell died from a sudden loss of salt, the follow scene occurs that I love:

I love it both because of how flirty Kirk gets with McCoy as well as the faces McCoy makes and the way he says “error.” Also, poor Spock stuck in the corner forced to watch as these two idiots flirt with each other next to a dead body. You know, I think I need to figure out the coloring I used on this set because I think I like it better.

Yes, this is actual dialog from the show. It makes sense in context, but still… Also, this next one is just for me:

This is the bit that really bothers my daughter:

Not only does Rand grab a piece of celery and take a bite, she also just puts it back and carries on like it came that way. Is Sulu just supposed to be eating after her? Are they really that close? While I don’t love that they had Rand being ogled earlier in this scene, or the fact that she’s essentially a glorified go-fer (my daughter isn’t happy about that either), I do enjoy this scene. Only half the reason is because that plant is just a freaking person wearing a decorated glove.

I just needed to put these together to ask… why does the salt vampire have to come across as a bit creepy? I get that it’s just biting its knuckle… but still, it’s screaming “I shouldn’t be trusted alone with anyone.”

Yes, I figured out what coloring I used, or, more specifically, what coloring I skipped. I could go back and redo all the caps, but I’m too lazy for that. I will redo this one for the Spock/Uhura shippers, though:

This set is for me and any other McCoy/Kirk shippers:

Apparently, the salt vampire isn’t just in it for the salt. It needs that lurve.

You need to understand, one of the things this show is loved for is the ridiculous physical aspects. What do I mean by that? Why, the odd version of zigzag running that Kirk does. It wouldn’t actually keep him from getting shot, but it is amusing to watch how his lower half moves much more than his upper half. Also, I just really like how this set makes it look like Spock is trying to take Kirk alive if you don’t have the context.

Obviously more happens in this episode, but there are two things that I think actually matter:

I get that Kirk is supposed to be frozen/hypnotized, but the salt vamp is moving extremely slow. It adds up to make it look like they’re competing for most campy actor in scene award. The second cap… It’s hilarious because, not only is it very obvious that neither actor makes contact with the other, but it also looks like Spock is holding an invisible bat.

End of episode tallies (details by daughter)

UNPROFESSIONAL BEHAVIOR: 04 (Darnell’s unnecessary comment about the pleasure planet, Uhura overtly flirting with Spock, Rand stealing a singular bite of Sulu’s lunch, Starfleet crew overtly ogling Rand. The salt vampire, not being Starfleet, is exempt from this counter.)

Starfleet Are Cheapskates: 01 (McCoy has no blanket :()

Reasons Why Enterprise Needs a Counselor: 01 (McCoy had to kill a creature that looked like a woman he cares for)

Early Episode Weirdness: 01 (Spock claims Vulcan has no moon)

Final thoughts:

Me: It's got enough cheese to keep me happy with enough McKirk flirting to keep me coming back for more.

Daughter: It's a much better introduction to the series than The Cage. It's also very cheesy in a fun way.

[mrstrinity1132]

She got herself ready for this moment.

She did her hair and re-died the end of it red for the holidays. Aubrey's not a make up person, but today's a brand new day. She put on red lipstick. She did all it for him, the emo boy she fell in love with for years.

"Today's the day, Aubrey. I'm going to do it! I'm going to show him now! Go big or go home!"

But she didn't really have a plan on how, she just knew it must be discrete so the whole neighborhood wouldn't know, not yet, anyway. But today is the day that she will show him how much she...

From a distance, she could see him, talking to Kel and Basil. She was getting nervous now, heart beating, sweating, blushing... the black haired boy looked much cuter today out of all days.. why?!? He's wearing a plain Christmas sweater! He's just a plain boy! I guess he's just shinier than the rest... Lots of thoughts were in Aubrey's head; what would he think of her if she did this to him? Would it ruin everything they had? She didn't want that... That'd be terrible. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if that was true.

Maybe I should just turn around... No! I have to, or it will be too late! Now or never, Aubrey! Frick it; I'm going!

She stormed towards him with her fists bawled up. His features were getting clear and he became more prettier with every step she took.

The friends turned towards her when she got at a reasonable distance.

Kel started "Oh hey Au-"

Aubrey grabbed Sunny's arm and snatched him away from the group, dragging the poor boy to where she wanted him to. His skin was so soft...

I think Aubrey heard the "Oooooooh"s from the two boys who were left behind, but she didn't care. She felt Sunny struggle under her grasp, but it halted after a few. Maybe he didn't realize it was her because of how dolled up she became?

When she got to where she wanted, she let go of Sunny and stood in front of him, looking dead into his face with a stern look. She was still sweating and her face was red. Sunny was scared and confused at this; his thoughts went crazy.

Why would Aubrey bring me here? Is she mad at me or something? I must've did something wrong- I always do things wrong... Of course she would be mad at someone like me...I screw everything up.

While he was thinking that, Aubrey was thinking other things. Don't just stand there like an idiot Aubrey, be tough for him. Let him know how you feel! Do it now or it will be too late!

After minutes of silence, Sunny was the first one to speak; "U-Um...Aubrey?"

"Does he not know where we are?" Aubrey thought to herself, still staring in silence. "it doesn't matter...I'm going in."

Aubrey suddenly grabbed Sunny by the front of his sweater and placed her face on his. *Kiss-*

She put the now flustered boy back in his original spot and turned away.

And she took off, leaving Sunny dumbfounded. He just got kissed by his crush. He got kissed. He.

Sunny stood there for a while with the new lip mark on his cheek. He never wanted to take it off. This was one of the best moments of his life and he wanted to cherish it.

...This whole time, he had no idea that he was under the mistletoe!

[batrogers]

ONE: TOUCH STARVED (Hyrule Warriors, rating T)

Sleep will not come. Link lays in his tent, alone and feeling every second of it in his chest. It has been four months since this war started, since he looked in the eye the reality this was all about him and, somehow, this was only something he could fix too.

He holds part of the Triforce, and that is the same reason the strange sorceress wants him enough to destroy his world.

He stares at the back of his hand, but the glow isn't really visible. It's more like a sheen sometimes, usually in battle, a glimmer that looks like a trick of the light...

It means nothing. His hands falls back to his chest and he stares at the top of the tent, at the tight canvas broadcloth and he tries to close his eye again. Every time he does, he pictures that woman: dark robes, dark mask, reaching out and beckoning to him... He's only ever seen her at a distance, across a battlefield but he can feel that presence in his bones.

There's a hair of it in the way Lana looks at him, and more than a hair in the jokes that have been going around.

I guess you're that kind of pretty.

I see what she wants there.

Normally people want silent wives, not husbands, but it's a fair trade.

He rubs his hands up his arms and shivers. Some of the men talking had once been his friends.

Some of the others, who were his friends once, are just dead now.

It's been months since he left home, left his family to flee with the rest of the citizens of Castletown when the first movements towards war began. Months since he was a trainee and equal to the men around him. Months since anyone did more than give him order or demand his opinion. It's strange to feel like that's too little, too late. Stranger still to find himself wishing anyone cared about him anymore.

He knows lots of people here care: Impa values his skill, his intelligence, his loyalty. She's not the type to say to his face he's done well, but a lack of criticism and a tacit acceptance of his opinions is worlds from where they started. And Lana, for all she never jokes about his looks is clearly staring. He knows that from back home, from all the girls  he grew up around who told him it was brave of him to join the Castle Guard, whose gaze would linger and follow him around, whose parents approached his while he was out...

While his sister listened and told him every family who asked if he was to marry soon.

He remembers them all.

The feeling still sticks in his throat. He pushes himself up and pulls on his boots, not bothering with much else. He sleeps in pants and a light undershirt, in fear of ambush, and its not so hard to get up and go out uneasily for...

To stop and pause, outside the one tent of someone he thinks might not take things wrong. He hopes. He whistles, almost too softly outside Sheik's tent, and waits until the other man pulls the flap back. His turban's off, to sleep, but the long cloth once again loosely covers half his face.

Link forces a weak smile and regrets he forgot his slate. He gestures weakly inside, and, with a wary look behind his back, Sheik lets him in.

The tent is even more spare than his own. The strange man only joined a few weeks ago himself, and he has since kept to himself.

"I assume this is a personal visit?" Sheik asks. He lights one candle, but no more, and Link doubts there's anything to write on in here either.

All he can do is nod and dig one nail into his other hand. He has to answer, somehow, and vaguely gestures with one hand down his eyes, then snaps his fingers back out.

"You couldn't sleep?" Sheik guesses.

Link flashes him a brief smile. He got it; he wishes the whole truth was so simple as that. Truthfully, it's a problem of being alone but... How can he possibly tell him that?

When he looks up, next, Sheik is studying the floor, the cloth fallen loose from his face. His long, blond hair is braided, tighter than during the day. Protection from tossing and turning at night, likely, and his face is prettier than he thought. He swallows and looks away, half rising as if to go.

"No, it's fine," Sheik says. He offers a hand. "Did you just want somewhere else to sleep? Is that it?"

Link nods, immediately. Hesitantly. He makes a face and picks up one of the tokens from the table. In the dim light, he can see a rough copy of the map in Impa's tent, the one with all their plans, all their troops and movements marked out. Sheik has recreated it from memory, and with it comes tokens for them and for Cia.

It's just a glass dot. He shouldn't hate it for existing and yet...

Sheik cups Link's hand in his and gently pries the marker from his fingers.

The touch almost burns. He twists his hand against Sheik's and closes his fingers gently around his wrist. Sheik returns the gesture, callused palms catching on his own as he rises and pulls Link with him back to his bed.

He doesn't speak, and Link is grateful for it. He doesn't want to talk: not about the war, or what happened there, or even what Shiek might, mistakenly, assume he wants. He doesn't want anything, not really. Nothing but the chance to lay down and turn to press his face into someone else's shoulder. He wraps his arm around Sheik's waist, buries his face in hair that smells of sandalwood, and prays somewhere between now and dawn he can rest.