#2020 was the worst but at least something good came of it

[puppypawprince]

I miss the mental illness party sometimes especially since I came up with the server name

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[aztarion]

Give me some fun facts about Soledad rn or I’ll do something…dunno what yet…

im sorry i took so long getting to this T_T thank you for asking!!! this went off-road many times with me overthinking it i just couldn't save it but hopefully it's still readable, i tried to do a mix of character and meta while not repeating anything from prev asks and then it kind of morphed into a weird bio lmao

her full name is Solona ‘Sol’ ‘Soledad’ Castillo; born 1/11/77 and raised in soledad, california, until her parents moved to sierra vista, arizona. died embraced 1/11/2000

by the events of Night Road in 2020 her mom and dad have both passed and her older brother is 52; he runs their dad’s mechanical repair workshop there. she absolutely does the sad little drive-by late at night every couple of months if she's in the area on a job (surgical mask on and hood up/cap on of course). i hc that julian, while keeping an occasional spying eye on her during the 10 yr absence, also looks out for her brother and sends business his way unbeknown to her lol

she ended up 3/3 fully blood bonded to julian in the beginning while they worked for the cam, and julian was 2/3 bonded to her. his “wasn't it romantic?” comment -- yeah literally too romantic, get back to work and feed the big underground nosferatu both of you 😤 i like that headcanon personally as another reason why he would cut contact so suddenly with sol when they were in a relationship — to break the bond on both sides; he could obsess strictly over 2100X and her desires would be completely her own again

another headcanon i'm sorry... after the diablerie of aila and the intense guilt that came with the act, plus julian (her sire) abandoning her and essentially straining and forcing their bond to fade, she gains the bulimia derangement. i paired that with the siren predator type lmfao. so very um dramatic all around when shes having a bad night. she restricts to bagged blood for like ten years working as a courier and just resigns herself to being perpetually dour and unsatisfied. i like to write her easygoing and much more lively when she's with julian during their work for the local camarilla, like the reality of her new condition hasn’t really sank in because omg julian's sooo fun and woah this world is crazy but at least julian's here he's gonna change everything or something (she believed in his vision and ideals even if she didn't fully grasp the scope at that time -- like she was on board at least. bless her she had 2 intelligence). she then becomes very muted pre-night road while the bond fades and the uglier, lonelier facets of being a vampire surface; having to pull together an independent undead existence for herself, trying to control her beast while feeding exclusively on bagged blood as job payment, then a little more tearing at the seams upon arriving in tucson during night road (resentment, guilt, anger, desire, longing, hunger for something that won't have a plastic aftertaste, all rushing back and blurring together at once; not so good a grasp on those when she’s been keeping herself numb and isolated and constantly on the move for a decade). behind everything she is desperate for connection

she has a good control on her beast thanks to that (monastic? lmao) decade (and high willpower/composure/resolve), until returning to tucson and stirring aila’s presence; the strange link to lettow, julian showing up, old memories and feelings that aren't even always her own now gathering on this very carefully crafted veneer like plaque. also suddenly having a ghoul and her own assets to worry about kind of freaks her out due to her own existential uncertainty and not really trusting herself. not even really knowing who she is. and she really likes elena right off the bat; she usually puts herself in more danger as to not risk her ghoul in the exact situations one would find themselves needing a damn ghoul in — she is literally the worst kindred ever in terms of priorities and self-preservation

speaking of her beast, it's very much that of a scorpion or snake… yes blunt-object-to-the-back-of-the-head-symbolism with some of her tattoos 😭 she stays lowkey, tries not to put herself under circumstances that would provoke or overly strain it, can keep it in check relatively well due to avid practice being a loner control freak, but when it snaps it's like an inland taipan. actually one of my fav moments playing with her in night road: so she chooses to continue feeding on blood bags in tucson, but when she finally had the opportunity to indulge with her predator type and a live target in dallas, she fucking got a critical success and killed them T_T this was after impulsively kissing julian back at the apartment d'espine allows you to stay at while in the area too. real in-character off-the-rails moment rip

i mentioned before but under the composed exterior she tries to present, she intensely seeks connection to something or someone. unfortunately the way she sees it: lettow is drawn to her because of the remnants of aila lingering within her -- also she literally ate his girlfriend, she's still not ok with that even if he forgives her because of course i gave my vampire oc morals and a guilty conscience (meanwhile cobie is eating people whole like twice a day); julian has no issue using her for whatever despite his affections, and elena is literally blood bonded to her, which sol is constantly thinking about elena's feelings and best interests — its a little bit of a sore spot for past reasons...

she gets on well with dove and begrudgingly really likes carlos (they absolutely cuss eachother out in very aggressive spanish one minute but he will pass her the roach the next) and she simped so bad for invidia caul — i think sol’s type is just a combo of super intelligence + willingness to engage in unethical experimentation lmfao. she's like omg noooo i don't understand wtf you're saying and that's sexy to me also your actions make me feel bad and are very ‘end-justifies-the-kind-of-morally-bankrupt-means’ but i cannot deny if they work out the ‘end’ would be really beneficial to kine and kindred... woe… hashtag conflicted and a little turned on. but she's very drawn to people who are idealistic or driven in an inherent ‘i want to help then i'll have purpose’ way. also the thrill. omg im just psychoanalysing her at this point sorry. this bitch would easily be indoctrinated into a cult is what it all boils down to + the extreme loyalty means she'd probably end up the cult leader's right-hand arm man his everything his confidant his best friend his silly rabbit 🤦‍♀️

also a follower in the streets but more of a leader in the sheets who said that

ok random stuff... she has those brown eyes that when she was human would glare almost red-orange when caught in straight sunlight; super deep chestnut, it only comes through under certain fluorescents these nights

very thick long hair; naturally has a kink/wave to it, quickly prone to returning to that state even when straightened, esp in the southwest's heat. usually loose when in tucson or dressing up, or braided ponytail on the road/job which i am so afraid to draw

nails are sharp like mini claws unless she’s specifically clipped them after rousing. they extend obscenely when she pops protean. i need to draw her fangs but they’re feline/kittenish: weirdly long and thin like staple punches, and again when she pops protean they extend like a snakes

her character color scheme runs warm-dark: black, brown, ochre, sienna, umber, burnt orange, deep shades of red, and maybe some random olive. style-wise it’s a mixed bag of practical minimalist and sleek; street and active wear, the occasional gold-ruby-emerald or leopard print dolce & gabbana-esque gaudy accent. very feminine on top; skin tight, low cut, corseted or cropped, paired with something oversized; men’s beaten-soft leather jackets, vintage driving jackets, or blazers. pants go either way: form fitting or baggy and belted depending on whatever silhouette she wants to cut. think of like the swaggiest 70s cuban drug lord/80s gangster restyled on 90s supermodel Naomi Campbell or something. with formal-wear i really like her in off-shoulder stuff. i try to draw her tattoos more in art bc it makes her more fun to look at but as a courier she wears driving gloves and long pants/boots to cover them up, and baseball caps or large sunglasses (yes at night. loser) to keep herself mostly unidentifiable

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY BLORBO!!!! :'3

prev info/asks jic: 0 , 1 , 2

[vgperson]

What Did I Do In 2023?

Whatever I wanted, mostly.

----

As I mentioned last year, my site now has an RSS feed with basically everything I've done back to 2020, so this will mainly be going over the same stuff from that, just with added context.

In January, I finally sat down and properly realized an idea for a short story I'd had sitting around for a while: From the Sidelines, about a fantasy RPG expedition going sideways. I remain very proud of it in both concept and execution, and hope people read it.

In February, Your Turn To Die was released on Steam Early Access, receiving character profiles and some bonus mini-episodes, adding two more later in the year.

After finishing From the Sidelines, I carried that momentum to revisit my Ut0p1a story series about funny computer animals. I'd always meant to continue it - and conclude it - but hadn't been satisfied with the ideas I had for it until totally rethinking them this year. In March, I posted the remaining stories one after another: Right to Code and Left to Code. I'm very proud of these as well. Also in March, Kenshi Yonezu released LADY. (Video, interview)

In April, Uri released the Data Book of the Strange Men Series, a big collection of the writing she's done on the games in the series, with a lot of new parts as well, all translated by me.

Then in May... uh, well, let's see. In April, Capcom released the Mega Man Battle Network Legacy Collection. I always adored the Battle Network games, and was initially excited that they finally did the thing... but by the time it came out, I was pretty disappointed by how, while you certainly couldn't call them low-effort ports, the effort didn't extend everywhere I thought it should, with the biggest offenders being the total absence of any "convenience features" except Buster Max Mode, the bad font, and the almost entirely untouched translations.

So, I ended up deciding I might as well just replay the originals, and that was a fun time (aside from the parts that were bad). Doing this, I couldn't help but notice how... turbulent the translations were, even if I'd always known they were less than ideal. I mean, the first two games just used periods for ellipses despite the tight character limits, then in BN3 they had an ellipsis character... but it's center-aligned, Japanese-style? Aside from the intro, which has normal ones? Gosh, somebody should fix that - it's simple enough to find and edit in YY-CHR. "JapanMan" is silly, too - I wonder if anybody made a patch for that? Wait, what do you mean there's just a tool to extract and insert text in all the Battle Network games including the Legacy Collection???

Thus began a journey that sort of occupied the rest of my year. First I did the BN3 Translation Revision, trying not to worry too much about cross-referencing the Japanese text unless something seemed wrong, so that I didn't spend too long on the project. Then I began to consider BN2, with its unfortunate "foreigner" text that would need some more significant reworking. I established more convenient tools for comparing with the Japanese script, and thus did a much more thorough job with it, releasing the BN2 Translation Revision in June (AKA Princess Pride Month).

Finally, after giving myself time to recover and actually finish replaying the series, I knew what I had to do to close things out. With the BN4 Translation Revision, you can finally play Battle Network 4 with a translation that isn't such a mess. Whether you'd want to is for you to decide, though if you can get over the structure, I don't think it's the worst game in the series by any means. (Oh, and in December I also updated the BN3 Revision to 1.1, doing a thorough pass with the methods I'd honed. But I think I'm pretty much good on MMBN translations now.)

Anyway, backtracking to other things that happened during my Battle Network haze... June had Kenshi Yonezu's Moongazing (video, interview), and July had Globe (video, interview, interview).

Last but not least, released in November, I translated Refind Self: The Personality Test Game, a short game from Lizardry (creator of 7 Days to End with You) with a fun concept.

----

Obviously I was right to have said "no promises" last year. But really, Your Turn To Die should get its final part on Steam sometime next year, maybe even early-ish in it. That's certainly the goal.

I'm also hoping to buckle down and finish one of my own games, but as usual, who knows how that'll pan out. Letting my whims carry me this year let me finally finish From the Sidelines and Ut0p1a, which was great, and it also led me down a Battle Network rabbit hole, which was... fine, but definitely for a narrower audience. I'd always like to get back to more free game translations and the like, too, but it takes effort to find things I'd want to translate. For now, I think my increasing desire to be able to let loose some of these original games I've been planning, and the stories in them, might come out on top.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: asshole!steve, explicit language

summary: you're hoping for the best, perhaps even some sort of miracle, but from the first phone call to the first meeting, it's pretty clear that everything that has been said about him is oh so true

CHAPTER ONE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉❞

Steve Harrington’s Newest Film Wins Big at Golden Globes but Actor nowhere to be found at the Awards Show… Partying in Vegas Instead? Full story here!

YouTuber calls Steve Harrington a “Jerk” and “Extremely rude” in podcast documenting her time working with him on the 2020 film “When the World Ends”

Steve Harrington: Another Pretentious Actor or Misunderstood Recluse?

Watch this video of Steve Harrington flipping off Paparazzi in NYC

You’d gone down somewhat of a rabbit hole.

And at first it was supposed to help you. 

There was no problem you couldn’t solve, and this Steve Harrington problem was just another thing to check off of your never ending list. You were in search of any piece of information that would tell you that the next three months being his assistant would not be the absolute worst. Anything that said that he was at least somewhat of a good guy, that the narrative of him being an asshole wasn’t actually the only narrative out there.  

However, you’d ended up feeling even more worried than how you initially felt when Jessie told you everything hours earlier. It seemed as if every article about him included something bad, and the only good thing they would say about him was how great of an actor he was— how he was close to being the next Leo DiCaprio, Joaquin Phoenix, etc etc— which you already knew and didn’t care that much about because that information wouldn’t help solve your problem. Him being a good actor didn’t mean that he had a good personality, and every single article seemed to tell you exactly that; except the paparazzi thing because that sounded completely justified since paparazzi sucked. 

In the end, when you forced yourself out of the hole because it was nearing midnight and you had to wake up early, you convinced yourself that maybe all of those articles weren’t even completely true. It wouldn’t be the first time that celebrity news outlets exaggerated their stories to make them more interesting; maybe his reputation as an insanely rude person was actually not as true as it was portrayed to be. And you let that hopeful, and potentially delusional, thought put you to sleep. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jessie: Here’s Steve’s number

Jessie: Once again, thank you for doing this!

You’d forgotten that you asked her for his phone number last night during your deep dive of him. 

You simply stared at it for a moment before texting Jessie back a quick “Thank you” and moving on to look at the other notifications that were taking over your phone; the slew of emails that came through in the middle of the night and early morning along with voicemails from calls you’d already missed because even though it was early for you, on the east coast it was already almost ten. It probably wasn’t healthy to wake up and immediately throw yourself into your work, but it felt like second nature at this point.

When there was somewhat of a lull in your day and you were sitting on your couch after enduring an hour-long Zoom call with the Executive Producers of the movie along with the heads of every department to make sure that everyone was on the same page for filming, you decided to finally call Steve. It felt slightly weird having to call him instead of a secondary person to talk about what you needed to, but you didn’t want to call his actual assistant who was probably not supposed to be thinking about her job right now.

You honestly didn’t expect him to answer, and you thought you’d have to leave a voicemail and hope that he’d get back to you sooner rather than later, but he answered on the fourth ring with a quick, “Hello?” 

“Hey,” You responded and then tried to mask the surprise in your voice by letting out a small cough. “I got your number from Jessie Robbins. I’m going to be your assistant during the filming of Fear of Lonesome. My name is–”

“Doesn’t matter,” He interrupted you. “You said you’re going to be my new assistant?”

You still told him your name anyway and then answered his question. “Yes, just for the three months of filming. I wanted to call before it starts in a week. Just to get any numbers that are important, or if there’s any specific information I should know.” 

He sighed as if he was completely annoyed by your voice and the fact that you were calling him right then. “My other assistant has all of that information. I’ll text you her number.” 

“Um, okay, thanks. But–”

He hung up before you could finish your statement and you stared at your phone for a moment before dropping it next to you on the couch. That short interaction with him was more than enough to let you know that those articles you read last night were all so very true. 

You let out a sigh in frustration and then another one when your phone pinged with a text message from him with the number of his real assistant. According to the text, her name was Sheila. 

There was no way that you were going to call a pregnant woman that was on bedrest due to stress; stress that you quickly concluded was probably caused by this job and having to deal with Steve Harrington on a daily basis. 

Therefore, you instead decided to text her, asking the same stuff that you’d just asked Steve, but barely five minutes from the moment you hit send, she called you. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, I would’ve texted you back, but all of this felt like way too much to type,” She began and then immediately continued. “I sent Steve all of the information that the new assistant would need, and why I am not at all surprised that he didn’t give it to you. Text me your email and I’ll send you the folder. It has the numbers for everyone else on his team, and there’s also a calendar with all of his commitments and stuff for the next few months. It’s pretty empty because of filming, and he likes to fully prioritize that, but his publicist might throw something in here and there because he likes to force him to do some public events even though Steve despises them. So, I’d say just check it every now and again.” 

That folder sounded like the holy grail. You could feel your frustrations slowly easing away. “Yes, thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope that will make things a bit easier for you. Steve can be pretty intense most of the time,” Sheila said, and that made you further imagine what these three months would be like; signs were still pointing to bad. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Why is he…” You trailed off unsure of the best way to finish your question.

“An asshole?” Sheila concluded for you, and it was hard to bite back your laugh.

“I was gonna be slightly nice and just say rude, but yours works too.” You said, letting out another small laugh. “Why is he like that?” 

“He’s just really serious. Never does much else but work. I swear I don’t remember the last time he did anything fun.” 

Hearing that answer surprised you. It also meant that the Vegas article was definitely a stretch. You couldn’t help but wonder what the truth was, but you decided not to ask. 

“How do you deal with him?” 

Sheila was quiet for a moment, as if she was really thinking about her answer. “Eventually he’ll grow on you. Kinda like a fungus? Sorry, that was probably a horrible analogy.” 

“No, that sounds like it’ll be accurate,” You said and then silently prayed that these months would fly by.

“If you’re ever confused or need anything, or just want to rant about him, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I’ll be stuck in the same place until this baby’s out of me.” 

Sheila was really nice, and you could tell that she genuinely meant her words, but you didn’t want to have to bother her again; she deserved a break from all of this.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’d woken up at five thirty in the morning on the first day of filming with a text from Steve. 

It was his coffee and breakfast order and the name of the place that he wanted you to get it from.

Seeing that text from him almost made you want to laugh given that the last message you’d sent him was you thanking him for Sheila’s number which went unanswered.

There were a bunch of things that were already being thrown at you when you got onto set that morning, but you decidedly avoided it all to first head to Steve’s trailer. 

You were determined to make the day go well; hoping that it would set a precedent for what the next few months would be like. And giving him his stupid coffee and breakfast order sounded like the best first thing to do to make sure that everything went well with you two. 

When he opened the door after you gave it three quick knocks, you greeted him with a smile. 

“Hey, good morning,” You said as you handed him the coffee and the bag with his breakfast sandwich. You then pulled out the folded piece of paper that had been in your back pocket, giving that to him as well. “The shooting schedule for today.”

“Mhm,” Steve said, placing the paper and bag down somewhere next to him. He took a sip of his coffee before pulling out his phone and focusing his attention on that. He glanced up at you for a brief moment and his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he was surprised you were still standing there. “I’ll call or text you if I need anything.”

Before you could say anything in response to that, he shut the door. 

This was your life now. 

In hindsight, maybe it was dumb of you to think that you’d have some sort of an actual introduction with him— especially with how the last, which had also been the first, time you talked to him went— but still, a small part of you had been hoping that you’d be proven wrong. 

You were kind of over hoping for that now, though. Because at this point, it was pretty clear to you what he was like, and it would definitely be dumb of you to continue to hope for something different. 

You’d dealt with an insane amount of rude people in Hollywood— actors, actresses, directors, pretty much anyone that at some point had some sort of seniority over you— and some of them had actually been worse than Steve. But there was something about this interaction that took the cake for you. 

Maybe it was because those past moments had been one-offs. Yes, some random actor or Hollywood exec had been a dick to you, but it would be a rarity if you had to talk to them again. However, with Steve Harrington, you’d have to deal with him for the next three months. 

You started walking away from his trailer and somehow almost immediately ran into Jessie. 

She started to smile at you until she noticed the look on your face. “Oh no, you look mad. What’s happened already?”

You plastered on a fake smile. “Oh, everything’s going fine. I gave him his coffee and stupid breakfast sandwich, he said he’ll call or text if he needs anything, and then he closed the door in my face before I could say anything.” You dropped the smile and gave her a deadpan look. “I honestly don’t even think he knows my name.”

She grimaced before giving you a hopeful smile. “I’m so grateful for you. These months will speed by, I promise.”

“Ninety days and counting,” You said, trying to match her hopeful smile but it still felt too fake. 

She opened her mouth to say something else, but your name being called on the small walkie talkie hanging from your back pocket interrupted her. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Jessie told you as she started heading in a different direction, and you nodded before grabbing your walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I’m here,” You responded, making your voice sound as light as possible. “What’s up?”

Darryl, who was the head of the art department, proceeded to tell you that an important part of the set had yet to be delivered and they couldn’t finish preparing the set that would be used in today’s scenes without it. 

You let out a sigh as you took a quick glance at your watch; 7:30am. “I talked to the delivery company yesterday and they said they’d have it here by 7. I’ll call them again right now, and I’m headed to you now too.”

Even with the immediate stress you felt from this situation that you now needed to fix, it somehow still felt easier than having to deal with Steve. For the time being, you could focus fully on your actual job and keep your mind far away from him. Until he ultimately needed you for something, and the thought of that made you inwardly roll your eyes. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When your phone pinged with a notification you expected it to be something from Steve. Even though you’d given him the lunch he requested barely an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wanted something else. Instead, it was a notification that his calendar had been updated. 

His publicist, whose name you learned as Tom, put an interview on the schedule for today; an interview that Steve would need to get to in three hours. Sheila was very right when she said that he’d just randomly add things to the calendar. 

Filming for the day wasn’t over yet and was still supposed to go on for a while, but you were already thinking of ways to somehow make this work. And as you headed to Steve’s trailer that was the only thing on your mind.

Your knuckles rapped on the door a few times and you could hear his voice through the door yell out a loud,“Yeah?”

You took that as your cue to enter instead of waiting for him to open the door, which you assumed would never happen. 

He was sitting on the small couch that took up the farthest part of the trailer with headphones in his ears and a script in his hand that had his full attention. He pulled one headphone out and looked at you. 

“Tom set up this interview thing with BuzzFeed for today. It’s in about three hours. I can tell Jessie that we have to end filming a bit earlier today, which should be fine if we–”

“No,” He interrupted you with a shake of his head, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of how often that was happening. “Tell Tom I’m not gonna do that.” 

You looked at him, confused. “What? Is that allowed?” 

Steve shrugged. “He’ll deal with it.”

You almost asked him why he was refusing the interview, but you had a feeling that he wouldn’t give you an answer and he’d probably just get annoyed at you.

“Alright then,” You said instead as you started opening the door. “I’ll call him now.” 

Steve simply nodded at you before putting his headphone back in and turning his attention to the script again.

The phone only rang a few times before you were met with a British voice saying, “Hello?”

“Hi, yes, I’m Steve’s assistant for the time being,” You said, quickly introducing yourself because you wanted to get to the point of the call as fast as possible. “He said he’s not gonna do the interview that you set up for today. Um, sorry.” 

You weren’t entirely sure why you were saying sorry, but it felt awkward having to do this, especially since Steve gave you no reasoning as to why he said no. 

“Of course he did,” Tom said with a scoff. “I swear to God this kid is gonna drive me to start smoking again, and my husband would kill me if I did. Fucking hell.” You were unsure if he was talking more to you or himself. “Are you with Steve right now?”

It was easy to tell that that question was directed at you.

“No, not anymore, but I can relay any message you’d like me to give to him, if you want?” 

“Yes, tell him that this is the last time he’s gonna pull this shit. No more fucking back out of things that are meant to help his career. We are not having another fucking Golden Globes incident,” He said, and with the amount of irritation behind his words, it almost felt as if it was you that was being scolded by this British man. 

“Got it, I’ll tell him that,” You responded, although you knew when you gave the message you’d probably make it sound a bit less profane and angry. 

Hearing him mention the Golden Globes made you think of something. You knew that Steve had ditched the awards show, but the actual reasoning why was still a mystery to you. And you had to admit, you were a bit curious; just like the rest of the film world. “Can I ask what the whole Golden Globes thing was about?” 

Tom let out the longest sigh in the world before saying, “He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay home.”

You laughed at that because you assumed that he was joking, but when you were met with nothing but silence you stopped. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Sadly so serious,” He told you and then sighed again. “And just like you barely believed that, of course no news outlets would think that was the reason either, so they pulled any story out of their asses. Like, he’d actually go to Vegas? Jesus Christ.” He muttered something else under his breath that was too hard for you to make out. “And it was hard to play the sick angle because no one would believe that unless he was actually hospitalized, and doing that felt a bit too dramatic.” 

All of that information was a lot to take in, but you still nodded even though Tom couldn’t see you. 

“Wow, that’s, um, really… Wow.” You ultimately settled on saying, which was barely even a real sentence and you mentally kicked yourself for being at such a loss for words right then. 

“Yeah, that was definitely the best twenty-four hours of my life,” He said and you could easily hear the sarcasm dripping from every one of his words. “Actually, disregard giving that other message to him, I’ll just yell at him later. When is filming done for the day?” 

You looked at your watch and then let out your own sigh. “In four hours.”

“Okay, got it,” Tom responded, and you assumed the conversation was going to end there, but then he continued. “How’s he been to you so far?” 

Surprisingly, the question actually felt genuine and it made you feel as if you didn’t need to lie and make things sound better than how they actually had been. “He looks at me as if he hates me, so it’s been fun having to endure that for the past seven hours.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just his face. He probably doesn’t actually hate you.”

There was something about Tom’s response that made you laugh. “Okay, so when should I know for sure? If he throws his coffee in my face or if he murders me? Well, I guess if he murdered me I’d be finding out a little too late, but at least I’d be able to haunt him.”

“You’re funny,” He said with a chuckle. “I wish we could keep you around longer.”

“Do not put that out into the universe.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

[corellianhounds]

top 5 headcanons? Your own or just faves!

GREAT question so these are just the ones off the top of my head:

1. This headcanon for Mando teaching the kid sign language, and the kid communicating back

2. Not something I came up with, but I like the idea of Luke having permanent Force-lightning scars as a result of Palpatine using it on him in RotJ

3. Personal headcanon: I think Han Solo would have taken Leia’s last name when they got married: Han (at least in the movies) had no family ties to the name ‘Solo,’ it was the name the Imperial officer gave him when he enlisted in the military to escape Corellia. It’s the perfect description for a smuggler on his own who only thinks of himself and his ship (though eventually Chewie becomes a part of The Only Things Han Solo Cares About).

The most important thing about Han Solo’s character that I think many audiences and even official creators (INCLUDING GEORGE LUCAS SOMEHOW) seem to forget is that Han’s whole character arc is that he was NOT a good guy— He BECOMES a good guy. All of the tension surrounding him in the original trilogy is based on the fact Han Solo looks out for himself. His return at the end of A New Hope is predicated on the audience being surprised that he came back.

Each movie, there was no guarantee that he would stay or stick around when the going got tough. By the end of the trilogy, Han’s character arc has ended with him choosing to be a part of something bigger and caring for people beyond himself and beyond his circle of friends. Choosing to marry Leia means choosing to remain relatively sedentary and present for her (and by extension their family, friends, and the New Republic), and besides, what better way to throw people off the scent and protect yourself from your criminal past than by marrying into the royal and political-leading family?

TLDR: Han takes Leia’s last name after they’re married because he finally has a family he chooses to tie himself to.

4. Personal headcanon: Leia does not forgive Vader for what he became, regardless of whether Luke says he redeemed himself in the end.

Leia not only saw the war he led and the atrocities he committed her entire life, he enabled/directed the destruction of her entire home planet before her very eyes. Leia loves her brother, but she cannot reconcile what Luke says about Vader being a good person with the war criminal she knew him to be.

Bonus headcanon: I think in the sequel trilogy Leia should have been the one to see a vision of her son’s future and she should have been either the catalyst for Ben Solo leaving, or she should have been the one who said she saw too much of Vader in him as an adult and he had to be killed in order to be defeated, while Luke and Han should have been the ones trying to bring him back. Luke’s character in the original trilogy was defined by compassion and mercy even towards one of the worst people the galaxy had to offer, and Han’s character was defined by the people who didn’t give up on him and whose encouragement and support and willingness to see the good in him were the reasons he was able to become a good person.

5. Personal headcanon: I’ve had the idea since 2020 that Mando’s family on Aq Vetina were part of the Disciples of the Whills. I’ve liked the idea of Mando being connected in a non-Force-sensitive way to other lore surrounding the Force, and I’ve based it on the similarities in costume design and because I think thematically, the idea of exploring the Force through a different lens than the Jedi would have made a much more interesting and compelling story in what was originally a relatively independent TV show with new characters on a much smaller scale, exploring different parts of the galaxy.

How I understand the doctrine of the Whills is that it’s more trying to understand the direction of the Force as it tries to find balance in the world, and the result of those teachings means seeing how the Force working in others is what benefits people— In Rogue One Chirrut says “May the Force of others be with you,” which I’ve interpreted as “Yes the Force exists and has an impact on life and death, but because it is the connection binding every living thing together, it’s our choices and the actions we take and the connections we form that exhibit the Force, which are what will ultimately save us in the end.” Chirrut says “The Force protected me,” and Baze Malbus says “I protected you,” and they are both right.

In the context of The Mandalorian, I wanted to see what could have happened if the show diverged from the Jedi, who to be clear were a specific order of Force sensitive followers whose primary purpose was as protectors of the galaxy— The Jedi teachings weren’t just a belief system, they were combined with a martial art and specific learned abilities that were intended to be used to protect people. That doesn’t mean their way was the only way Force-sensitives interacted with the Force.

Long story short, I wanted Mando’s potential ties to a different part of Star Wars lore to be the gateway to exploring more of the galaxy that these stories were set in. I think it would have been a lot more interesting and would have freed up the story to go whatever direction it needed without being confined to the Jedi and prior source material

[intheorangebedroom]

Hi Maddie! I hope you are having a wonderful September and you are enjoying the start of autumn. This might sound obsessed or weird, but PTMY and TYBTM are seriously some of my favorite things I've ever read... ever, like I'm putting it up there with novels I've read. It is insane to me how much talent there is in this fandom. Like the Pedro girlies are literal authors, putting out works of art. For me, you are the best of the best! Obviously, both stories have me very hot and bothered lol, but it's just the way you write intimacy and relationships, the peculiarities of your characters and the world's they inhabit so brilliantly, beautifully. I'm sure you know that at times you write like it is poetry! It is so immersive and I love it deeply. My question (apologies in advance) is about writing. I was wondering if you have any tips on (a) how you have improved as a writer, like in terms of how you've been to find your style? (b) how to overcome perfectionism? I've been wanting to take a crack at some Frankie ideas I've had, but I get so weighed down by self doubt and inertia. And also, I worry it's just not original enough. Okay, sorry for the rant! I will never be as good as you OBVIOUSLY lol, but for you I am grateful. I'm so excited for the next part of TYBTM and sad we are almost halfway to the end. I'm so excited for whatever you have in store for the future. Sending you so much love and hope you're having a great day.

Hey Nonnie 🧡

I apologise in advance for the length of this answer. 

Your kindness, your generosity and your time mean everything to me. I’m the worst at expressing gratitude when I’m paid a compliment. "Compliment" doesn't cut it to qualify what you said about my stories, it’s too much, it’s so incredibly kind. You made me so soft but also so much stronger. Thank you 🧡 My first impulse upon reading your message was to throw away my phone and scream I’VE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I’M DOING but I owe it to you to at least try to answer you. Also do you need some blood? A kidney? I have two. You name it it's yours.

I would like to start with the second part of your question, if you don’t mind. 

I have never ever thought any given piece I wrote to be perfect. At best, I think it’s not that bad, but that’s when I read it again a month after posting, because at the time I post it, it’s more like omfg if I read that shit one more time I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.” 

But life is too short for perfectionism. I’m sorry to be speaking like an old fart, but it is. You blink and it’s over. If you have a milligram of creativity in you, do not hesitate. Channel it. Create what you want, what you like. I’m serious. DO IT. Enjoy doing it. 

Self-doubt is a fucking bag of dicks. I’m riddled with it. In every corner of my existence. Every step of the way. Every word I type (not in my mother tongue…). How many times have I wanted to give up, especially during PTMY. The current tybtm chapter has fucking killed me dead. I hate it. It’s not good. Bad. But I’m forty fucking five years old and I’ll be damned if I let self-doubt and fear prevent me from achieving what I set out to do.

When I came back to tumblr in 2020, I saw numerous posts saying “you write for yourself first,” and I did not really understand what they meant. It’s nice to have an audience! It’s nice to be liked and validated! It’s nice to connect with people over something you’ve created. Musicians play live, and get a hell of a kick out of it, right? Why not us, writers? And one day, I think at the beginning of tybtm, it hit me. I understood. Fuck yeah I’m doing this for me. Because I need it. I need to tell this story. I need the satisfaction of having done it. The entire process makes me both incandescently happy and abysmally miserable, and you know what? That’s the fucking spice of life. I want both. I am alive when I write. Through the pleasure and the pain. So if you need it too, well, go for it. Don't let anyone, including you, tell you you're not good enough. Got for it.

There are 99% of chances that what you’re gonna write has already been written. So what? It hasn’t been written by you. No one sees people, life, or Frankie the way you do. Even if you write an age-old trope, even if you write the same trope over and over again in every story (me!), you’ll still bring your own precious singularity to the story, the characters, and the narration. That’s worth EVERYTHING. Please trust me. Maybe no one will like it. Maybe every one will like it. Whatever. At the end of the day, you still did what you set your heart on. I cannot stress enough how important this is. Carpe diem, baby.

Then, how did I improve as a writer, oh Nonnie, I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’m any good. I don’t think I am legitimate to give you any advice. 49.5% of the time, I think I’m too much (too gothic, too lyrical, too big with the feelings and emotions). 49.5% of the time, I think I’m not enough (not precise, concise, clear, good enough). But alright, I’ll try. For you. But please bear in mind I say all this in the most humble spirit.  

I write. All the time. In my head, in the shower, walking in the street, driving, aaaaaall the time. And then I type it down in a doc. And edit it and revise it again and again and again, until it feels smoother and/or I want to puke at the thought of having to go through it again. 

I try to take my time without panicking. If I’m stuck or in a bad mental place, I try to let it rest a bit.

My first year at uni, I studied screenplay writing. I would be unable to tell you precisely what I learned, but I think some of it is ingrained? In terms of conveying intentions through actions and dialogues (I know I tend to write pages and pages of introspection, and I swear I try to restrain myself, even if it doesn’t always translate to the doc).

Then, I’m an art vampire. I soak up everything I can, especially painting, music, and movies. I let it inspire me. I take notes on my feelings, fleeting emotions that I can’t articulate at first, and reflect and work on them until they become fully formed ideas I can inject in the writing. 

I read. A lot. And sometimes not at all when it feeds the self-doubt (comparison, you bitch!). I wait until I feel better, stronger. It may take time. 

With books/fanfics and movies, I analyse the narrative process employed. What I liked or disliked, what moved me, what didn’t. I take notes. To that effect, you can read reblogs of your favourite fics! Sometimes people reblog with some pretty neat analyses, just soak it up!

My obsession is finding the Right Word. I can spend days on the quest. A thesaurus helps. And sometimes it doesn’t. I also read my stuff out loud, because I like when it has a certain rhythm. And when the meaning of a sentence doesn’t work in a rhythm, I rework it tirelessly until it does. Fun times... 

I want to say that if you take the leap and start writing, after a while, you will feel instinctually what works for you. What feels right in terms of personal style. Maybe at the beginning you'll subconsciously write like someone else, but with practice and patience, your style will come out. If you need someone to cheer you on, I'm here.

Oh yeah because, very important, I whine to the very good angel friends in my phone whenever I’m stuck (they will recognise themselves if they read this)(okay they are @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0). I forfeit all dignity and beg them for virtual hugs. I don't know what I did to deserve them.

And lastly, I have been privileged to witness the genius of Kelli ( @frannyzooey ) in the works and wow. She's it for me. Everything she writes resonates with me, so I just soak. it. up.  

So yeah. to sum it up: carpe diem and be a vampire 🦇

Hope that helps 🧡

I’m also gonna leave that here: 

Claire ( @just-here-for-the-moment ) is one of the best people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet here. She’s patient, sweet, kind, and SO FUCKING SMART. Don't be afraid to reach out.

Nonnie, again, I'm so sorry this is so long. I sincerely hope you'll find something useful in all this gibberish. If not, come back to my ask box with any question. And again, thank you 🧡 From the bottom of my broken vampire heart, thank you 🧡

[batsplat]

sort of not really related to being unable to separate honda characteristics from marc’s riding style—one of the reasons i really enjoy the idea of him on a ducati is that i think it’s cooler to win titles with more than one manufacturer like it speaks to your longevity and adaptability plus it just adds class lol. i mean he has ridden some tricky hondas so his adaptability was never really in question but you know. and granted it won’t be as cool as vale’s switch to yamaha just cause like ducati is by far the best bike on the grid and his teammate is not someone i particularly rate (hope i don’t eat my words) but nevertheless very pleasing to me. side note i would have loved to see him ride a yamaha but sadly that shall remain a fantasy

yeah I mean I don't massively care about the big picture legacy debates because it's just. not my thing in sports. but I DO care about stories and it's basically always more fun to have more variety in someone's career. this last year has already done wonders for that for marc's career... I have felt for like,, a long time that it would be a terrible shame for marc to spend his whole motogp career with honda. pretty sure I've already said this somewhere on this blog but I was extremely un-thrilled when marc signed a four year contract extension in 2020. not even necessarily because it seemingly guaranteed him more titles - though his dominance was undoubtedly making me a bit tired of the sport - but also because it was just... the most boring option. you'd kinda seen everything you could possibly get from the marc/honda relationship by that point (I mean, I suppose we hadn't seen 'abject failure and misery' so good on them for mixing it up after all). changing things up is fun! put him in a satellite team! put him in factory red! it added something neat to the post-season test! sports is about putting athletes in Situations. this is a good development for the sport

(and yes I'm very happy it's made my spreadsheets more interesting as it gives me another variable to tease apart which marc performance patterns were down to the honda and which are due to his own riding style, though this next current year will really tease apart that distinction. if that's the kind of thing you care about. putting a lil asterisk next to qatar and mugello, just to see something. it would've been interesting to see him ride a yamaha OR a suzuki which was MY personal completely unrealistic 'come on marc don't u want to try it out :))' 2019 era pipe dream for where I wanted him to go (arguably a wish that aged extremely well given how the 2020 season panned out). from the limited amount I understand of riding styles and differences between manufacturers, I would've thought those bikes would suit him the worst, so that could've been interesting. but alas)

but yeah, idk, I mean valentino said himself in 2018 that marc didn't need to prove anything by switching manufacturers and that it just came down to what marc wanted. and like,,, valentino's right. it's not like anything about this ducati transition is all that shocking either. this isn't to diminish marc's achievements this last year, but... in spite of the past few years and his age and his arm and his own cautious rhetoric (which idt was all lies but I never quite bought)... I would've been surprised if he'd done worse than he ended up doing this year. I do think adapting to unrideable bikes within a manufacturer is significantly different than adapting to a completely different bike (not least because those poorly handling bikes were built specifically around marc's skillset), but again. it's deeply unsurprising he managed the switch well. and yeah, it's good for the cv to show off a bit of range. I will say that if you're looking to do prop, marc fans really need to be doing more talking up of their opps. you want to say the opposition is super strong so it means more when you beat them! it's like the valentino impulse with erasing sete, this isn't doing your own cause any good. pecco is just objectively a respectable title rival and if marc demolishes him then congrats to marc and full credit to him - that would be a truly remarkable achievement. you don't want to be beating a fraud! you just don't! and if marc remains a competitive factor for a few more years, he should be coming up against other title rivals sooner or later. so y'know. hopefully he does have at least one more marginal title fight at some point

[confusedlucifer]

so yesterday at 1 am finally the credits rolled on my first playthrough of DA:Veilguard and left me with a lot of thoughts and feelings, and also a literal headache this morning like i was hungover. full game spoilers ahead!

i want to preface by where im coming from - my expectations for this game were basically zero. it took ten years to get here, with very publicized troubled development, the game being reworked at least three times, lay offs, leadership leaving etc. basically up until june this year i genuinely did not believe another DA would come out and if it did, it wasnt going to be very good.

i'm also a person who played DAI on release and didnt really enjoy it that much at first! of the first three DA games, i think its by far the weakest in terms of story and the cast of companions. i never cared about Solas one way or another and always was a bit meh on the shift of the story toward ancient elves and gods. nonetheless i have 500+ hours in that game and dearly love my Inquisitor.

so with the combination of these feelings, i was really wary of this game being too much a sequel to Trespasser and centering Solas too much, and the Dread Wolf title initially just confirmed this (and annoyed me) (i did not like the bald man sorry)

i think in general i came into it with the acceptance of what the game is - and isnt. after the initial reveals and marketing started, it was clear they are making an action game, not a full fledged RPG anymore. it was also clear its going to be a shift for the series. i had my worries about the story and companions seeming too nice and sanitized, which was basically confirmed for me after i started reading Tevinter Nights (which came out in 2020) where you meet a lot of the companions and factions and they are quite the heroic bunch. so i knew all this going into the game and kinda braced for it.

still... the beginning hours were rough. the start of the game just really wanted to bounce me off so badly with some of the worst and grating writing from the start and just the jarring transition from the formula of the previous games and into this new action game setting. suddenly i couldnt talk to my companions whenever i wanted, i couldnt get to know them freely. it was a lot to adjust to at first.

the combat, the visuals and promise of meeting the cast really tied me over and the writing for its part got generally better the further in i got. i remember especially as soon as i started to discover the two cities, especially Treviso, i really started to fall in love with the setting.

despite myself i also came to really like how Solas is in this game - now finally actually just Fen'Harel, mask off full on Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs figure, imprisoned and offering "advice" yet subtly lying to your face and manipulating you the whole time. in general imo he was handled really well all the way to the end, and i enjoyed the Crossroads quests, the memories of his rebellion, the Regrets and lore reveals/confirmations of theories that have been teased either since the beginning of the series.

and despite my initial apprehension to some companions i really grew to love all of them just within the one playthrough. which is not something i can say for the cast of Inquisition personally - i grew really attached to Dorian, Varric, Cassandra but the rest were varying levels of neither here nor there until subsequent playthroughs. Veilguard really makes you spend a LOT of time with these people. and they feel like people with their own lives outside of you, despite relying on Rook a lot for advice. i actually really loved seeing them develop friendships and relationships independent of Rook, it made the home base feel more alive. generally i loved each of their questlines, some were weaker but the real highlights for me were Emmrich and Taash alongside Harding (esp playing as a dwarf). i immediately loved Taash being younger and giving attitude compared to the rest of the more matured cast it created an interesting dnyamic, and being a nonbinary kid of a conservative immigrant parent myself their storyline hit me really hard. i really adored Davrin and the griffon storyline following up on the Last Flight which is imo one of the best tie in books for this series. and Bellara - girl im so sorry for bouncing off your personality at first. her personal quest and performance was so touching and surprised me a lot by the end how much i liked her, and how much depth she was given. Lucanis was a pleasant surprise for me but i think his questline could have been done a bit better overall, and same for Neve - who i was really looking forward to initially but her questline kidna fell short of my expectations (thought i feel that on another replay things might be different due to me nuking Minrathous basically)

(also i ended up going for Emmrich romance with my mourn watch dwarven warrior and when i tell you there were times when i absolutely yelled out loud at how much i was catered to. his story and Manfred are just. so so delightful)

the real drawback of this game is.. my god there is so much missing. it does not really line up with the Tevinter we have heard about. some of the factions (namely LoF and Veil Jumpers) are not really super relevant. some factions are sanded down (Antivan Crows), and although it can be explained away in the lore (we are dealing with just one house, not all of the Crows so theres some wiggle room) its still hard not to see these changes. we visit so many places but they become a bit one note, sometimes reduced to just set dressing. especially by the end of the game i really wanted to see more of Minrathous and Tevinter in general, but we get very limited, filtered view of it. and with the companions feeling so independent of you, it actually makes Rook feel kinda underdeveloped in comparison. it feels they forge better friendships among themselves than with you, which i do kinda miss having a sort of "Best friend" in these games ala Alistair/Varric/Dorian. one thing i really sorely wish they added was any sort of prologue of you actually meeting Varric before the events of this game, because while you are attached to him as a player, Rook doesnt really have a very good established relationship with him i feel.

but looking at it as a game that went through so many iterations and ideas and genuine hell to even be released... i understand the reason people are upset with some of these things and situation about Southern Thedas or not following up more directly from Trespasser. personally it doesnt bother me (as i mostly live in headcanon with my DA characters anyway) but i get how it would others. i just dont understand the feeling that the devs and writers who worked on the previous games are out to ruin your beloved universe. so much of this game screams to me "we dont know if we will ever get to make another one of these". all the places we go to, without any larger plot relevance, the lore reveals and theories, the questions answered etc so much if it just such a huge closing of a chapter on Thedas, because theres no certainty for us or the devs we will ever return to this world again.

i have.. so many feelings about it but honestly towards the end of the game, finishing all the companions quests, finishing the quests for Wardens and the Crows as well especially and then heading towards that finale... like idk maybe ill change my mind down the line, but right now it feels like one of the best executed endings in any Dragon Age game. the whole maybe like 4? hour long finale just really gripped me by the throat, even though i saw some of the twists coming it still affected me a lot. and im excited about the tease for potential future too - turning the gaze outside of the continent and beyond the ocean, again something that has been very vaguely teased since Origins (with the lore of Kossith initially fleeing south because of Something TM) with moments here and there throughout the games. i'm glad there's still more mystery in this world and ancient elves didn't eat all of it. i'm even excited for the prospect of shifting the series into a single protagonist series with Rook.

i do miss a proper epilogue (just like i miss a proper prologue) at the moment especially because they seem very firm on no DLC and with the future of the franchise so unsure. with all this feeling of closure on this really storied world, i would have loved some good old fashioned epilogue slides at least vaguely discussing the future of the different kingdoms and nations, any sort of reaction to what transpired in this game yknow. if we dont get a DLC or a sequel down the line, i hope at least maybe for more tie in comics or novels.

still very much feel like DA:O and DA2 are tonally a separate world from DAI + DAV, and its not a bad thing but its why i dont expect Veilguard to be anywhere on par with the first two games. this is where im at, excited to eventually replay the game with a different faction background and different choices once the dust settles and hoping time will be kind to this game despite its many flaws.

[takeariskao3]

Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai. 

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course. 

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world. 

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire. 

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely. 

For a while, it all felt over-cautious. 

At least until the first case hit Cardiff. 

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff. 

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester. 

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London. 

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders. 

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were. 

Rumours. 

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega. 

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off. 

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts. 

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?” 

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front. 

And muffled voices. 

Followed by a car door slamming shut. 

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop. 

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers. 

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight. 

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity. 

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome. 

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.  

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next. 

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms. 

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough. 

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They’re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last. 

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously. 

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat. 

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank. 

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown. 

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard. 

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay. 

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness. 

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it. 

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it. 

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected. 

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere. 

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow. 

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse. 

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences. 

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.” 

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking. 

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity. 

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped. 

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable. 

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate. 

Christ, she was hopeless. 

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going. 

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate. 

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer. 

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock. 

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.” 

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good. 

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom. 

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed. 

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one. 

She settled for a glass of water instead. 

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.  

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale. 

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward. 

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again. 

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home. 

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils. 

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards. 

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it. 

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it. 

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 126

October 9, 2020

“It is the end of all hope To lose the child, the faith To end all the innocence To be someone like me”

I… I don’t really know how to start this or even how to write about it. It’s… Everything is just so awful right now and, in a way, maybe I shouldn’t even be writing this, but I feel like if I don’t put down in words what happened this week I’m going to make one of those decisions with no return, one of those that you can’t take back once they're done.

Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? On Monday morning, tired and bored as I usually am when starting a new workweek, I looked at my WhatsApp and decided to delete some groups that we were no longer using. They were mostly coordination groups and, since the reason I created them are no longer was valid, I felt like deleting them was the right thing to do.

I know, I know. I can almost hear you saying, “No, you didn’t!” And you’re right. They weren’t occupying space or bothering me in any way… Except that they were there any time I opened the freaking app, reminding me of those painful things that I don’t want to think about right now, like the fact that J.N. and I are no longer friends, that most of the spaces and activities we shared together are now gone, and that there’s no turning back when it comes to our friendship.

And I think that gets to the bottom of the thing, the real reason why I decided to delete those WhatsApp groups. To help me close the wound and start the healing. And so I did.

And that’s where the shitstorm began.

Hours later, I.C. (a mutual friend of both J.N. and I) contacted me and told me that she had started a cancellation campaign against me. And to clear any doubts about it, she sent me some screenshots.

To say that those words and pictures froze me in place would be the understatement of the century. This had never happened in my life before, but I just lost all sense of reality for a little bit. I was at a meeting with my boss and I just couldn’t hear his words. For a moment, I felt like the only thing I wanted to do was to disappear, to dissolve right into the groind. To stop existing. I hadn’t felt this way since the day I tried to kill myself (and failed, obviously) almost 10 years ago.

Luckily for me, the meeting ended earlier and I got to walk across the company, from one building to another through the parking lot, under a warm midday sun. It wasn't strong enough, though, because I was shivering all the way through.

Once I got home, after work, I sat down and decided to say my piece. After all, J.N.’s poor opinion of myself was an isolated case, wasn’t it?

Oh, dear. I couldn’t have been more purposefully wrong if I had been trying to miss the mark.

One other person I considered close to me (not a friend per se, but someone that had expressed admiration and at least “good vibes”—as the youngsters say—towards me) not only supported J.N.'s accusations, but she seemingly had an axe to grind with me about something we never talked about, and made use of a public forum to do so instead of discussing it with me in private! I... I just had—and still don't have—any words

I was horrified and questioning all my life choices in the past few years at this point, so I did the only thing that I thought could bring me some kind of peace. I wrote to M.C. to ask her if she had heard about the whole debacle. And here I must confess that I was fishing for some reaffirmation and comfort. After all—and I think I’ve said this before—I think she's probably my closest friend. And you want to know what happened? She didn’t write back. Not a word or reaction or phone call. Fucking NOTHING. Zilch. Nada.

And that was my Monday.

Tuesday was a dead day. I went and came back from work and slept the rest of the day and night (thanks, sleeping pills!). I ocassionally checked to see if M.C. had said anything. Nope. Nothing. I started fearing the worst.

Then Wednesday came and she finally replied.

Her answer (as I should’ve expected by this point) was the most disappointing of all the dissapointing shit that I forcefully found out this week. She basically sided with J.N. (and the other person) and, as a result, I lost two of the people I’ve loved the most in the past few years in the span of three days.

And, if that weren’t enough—and considering this whole disaster—I just had to leave all the public spaces we shared. And I fucking loved being there! But I had to leave! I had no options. How could I have stayed there, knowing that not one but two people, whose opinion I deeply appreciated, thought of me (in short, that I was—am?—the worst of the worst, everything I’ve stood up against for most of my life)? There was no fucking away I could’ve stayed there and remain whole.

It reminded me of a conversation I had with my dad once, perhaps the first time I asked him for advice in my life. I was 23 at the time, and I had just finished one of the most important relationships of my life (with V.M., which I believe I’ve written extensively about in other versions of you and in other places as well) and, to make matters worse, N.G.—who was probably my best friend at the time—told me, two weeks after V.M. and I had finished our relationship of almost four fucking years, that he was in love with her, and that he was going to pursue her now that our romantic relationship was officially over.

Talk about a fucking disaster.

We were sitting in a shitty fast food restaurant (those with ugly plastic chairs who are uncomfortable as fuck) and he and I were discussing whether we would remain friends going forward. And I’m so stupid (or I was so shocked by the revelation) that I just said “Yes” and I smiled all my way through that most awkward conversation I've ever had, trying to be encouraging as my best friend was about to romantically pursue who I thought, at the time, was the love of my live.

When I got home, however, I felt the uneasiness overcoming me… And I just didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t feel like I could ask my other friends (like J.C. or A.P.) their opinions because, in my estimation, both of them liked N.G. well enough to side with him and his “Why can’t we be friends?” bullshit. So I consulted the only person that I thought had my best interests in mind and could counsel me properly about this situation.

And you know what? My dad delivered. He told me very clearly (and without much floriture, as far as I can remember) that I had two paths ahead of me. If I chose to remain friends with N.G., I would have someone by my side who was clearly not as much of a friend as I thought he was and, in exchange, I would lose all my dignity and self-respect. And, on the other path, I had to withstand the pain of losing both my best friend and the love of my life then, but I got the rest of my life to recover and find better friends—and maybe another love of my life.

It wasn’t much of a choice, but I thought (and still think) it was sound advice, so I took it.

So that’s how I came to decide, once again, to cut ties with the people I love—and thought loved me back—with the faintest idea of surviving this, somehow. In the middle of a pandemic. On the brink of making the biggest decision of my life.

And that was my Thursday, one of saying “goodbye” with a broken heart to places I loved (and helped to build) and others I had a great desire to be a part of.

So, today is Friday and I have only one question on my mind: who the fuck has got time to think about transitioning under the current circumstances?

As a matter of fact, I do.

Because even through all of this shit, at the bottom of this pit I didn’t know I could fall so far into, there’s only one thing sustaining me and giving me life. And it isn’t the prospect of my family lending me their support through all of this, or whatever friends I have left telling me I’m not that person they’re saying I am, no.

It’s the dream of maybe one day transitioning and being myself.

“This is the birth of all hope To have what I once had This life unforgiven It will end with birth”

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[turtlebros4u]

I know sometimes we like to use the turtles as an escape and so we dip into their world, but I like to have them dip into our world.

Let me know if anyone else has done this, so curious. But here's my

2020 QUARANTINE TURTLE HEADCANNONS

⚠️ TW for sensitive topics, death and protests from 2020

They didn't know if they were susceptible to the virus or not

They've caught colds before so it was possible

They upped their safety game a ton, especially with their old man around

Wearing gloves and masks they were all able to get vaccinated (and maybe swipe one for the old rat too)

They did reap the benefits of extreme masking

They went out more at least in cloaks and masks

They at least got to pretend to fit in, doing yoga in the park, outdoor painting classes in central park, birdwatching even and made some very good local friends

It was surreal to them to see the city streets so much quieter

So much emptier

Crime dropped, so the turtles too became more idle

Sometimes doing the same as the rest of us

doomscrolling on TikTok (esp Mikey)

learning to bake sourdough (Leo of course)

playing Animal Crossing (Raph surprisingly)

and buying NFTs (or moreso Donnie hacking and vandalizing them to get back at pretentious dudes trying to make a quick buck)

Mikey does own one NFT though

He refused to show anyone for months

Turned out it was an art piece he commissioned to look like an NFT of a rather comical and ugly characature of Leo

And this was their first time as teens coming to terms with such a reality

In the middle of that year, one event shook us all

George Floyd

Especially when all they had been taught was that cops were the good guys

The protests were surreal

Streets lined with standing or sitting, socially distancing, masked potestors

It was upsetting enough when they were loud, but heartbreaking when they were silent

Raphael especially was upset by what happened to George Floyd, he took it harder than most, his mind went to every person he knew in his big city that was just as innocent but just as easily victimized and the thought of this happening to any one of them scared him and angered him

He didn't know what to do but he had to do something

It was months of rage sparring with his brothers, escaping into Animal Crossing, and sobbing on rooftops with Splinter before he knew how to even start processing the tragedy

He ended up joining the protests, sitting with the people he shared so much grief and anger with, hoping to make a change

Leo became silent for a while, he needed time to process

He came to a conclusion, and at first, without the approval of Splinter he started patrols in the most heavy policed parts of the city, but looking for a whole new type of crime

It took a while to learn what he was looking for, and he was too late in some situations

This was the part where he sought Splinters wisdom

Splinter helped him to identify cops with the worst track records, and how to help those most in need, especially the kids

While a rather Raph move on his part, Leo's new version of vigilante-ism is fueled by having always thought he was similar to cops, fighting crime and leading by example

Leo is disgusted that they'd abuse their power for the cheapest power trips and with the cruelest consequences

Donnie, as part of his NFT hacking to gift money off assholes, used that money to donate to as many fundraisers as he could manage

Bail fundraisers for protesters

Medical fundraisers for every harmed in protests or additional incidents nationwide

He even managed to set up a foundation that automatically collected and donated accordingly, doubling the donated value through the same kind of investment and bank loopholes many mega corps utilize

It upsets Donnie, but he's been on the internet longest, the reality of racists and assholes was something he was keenly aware of

The only way he can sleep at night is knowing he's helped exceed multiple fundraisers because it's the only thing he feels he can do

Mikey appeared alright for a while, he tried to ignore it

But it ate away at him as his social media feed began turning to more and more discussions and awareness and responses and critical analysis

He couldn't escape it, at some point he broke

He stayed in bed for four days

He barely ate, barely drank, cried a lot

His brothers, with whatever energy they could muster tried to rally him or comfort him but nothing worked

Even Splinter struggled to get through

After four days Mikey got out of bed, but still mulled around for weeks in a daze

Eventually he ended up spending time with each of his brothers

handing out waters at protests and keeping innocent protestors out handcuffs when bad turned worse

Policing the police, watching out for kids after dark when policemen were in the area, letting the air out of tires and emptying cartridges

He edited social media videos and curated info accounts for fundraisers

All of this helped the brothers to keep moving forward, but the weight sat heavy in their hearts even as years passed and progress moved at a snails pace

It's 2024 and they still do what they can, and when tragedies happen they at least have each other to get through it

They look back painfully to the years they lived in rose colored glasses, sure they should have known, but they don't think it's an unreasonable dream to think that their city can fix what's broken and corrupt to achieve the idyllic world they used to believe in

Certainly this is a lesson they'll never forget and will continue to shape them

The new Foot Clan wears black boots and badges

Sorry for such a long post, but I think that it's important to address these things at least in my head cannons.

If you have nuance or constructive critiques I'd love to hear them. I'm not a POC but I was personally devastated by many many of the events of 2020.

As a queer person I have stood with and still stand with BLM and believe ACAB. I didn't live in NYC during that year but had friends who did and it broke the heart of the city.

If you hate that I've brought social issues into generally escapists TMNT spaces then you should probably block me or ignore any future head cannons with the appropriate trigger warnings on them.

Thank yall for your time. 💙💜🧡♥️

[hanibalistic]

huuuuuuuuuuuuuu. i just went down a spiral of remembering old fics i read in 2020 and i vaguely remembered one of your fics. i searched up hyunjin x reader wc on safari and prayed. i distinctly remembered how your theme looked and the gifs you used and the colors but i completely forgot your blog name until i saw Jeonginks on an old rb and i yelled out like i came across some guy i met at a bar and told all my deepest darkest secrets one night 4 years ago and never saw again on the street. like i looked for a good long second and went. IT’S YOU .

anyway i have bad memory so i don’t really remember anything you wrote just the feeling of reading your fics and having my brain chemistry altered. so when i realized your blog was deactivated and i couldn’t reread and remember whatever life changing work it was i read 4 years ago during quarantine where all i had was x reader fanfics and solitude i was lowkey highkey Devastated. until i had the bright idea to just search up jeonginks on tumblr again and scroll through posts because Maybe i’d find something

anyway! this is all to say IT’S YOU !!!

i just wanted to share bc there is little more that’s as frustrating as not being able to find something when you want to so badly and it literally being right in front of you and you Still can’t get it (like how i feel when i see smth a kpop idol wears and wanting it and not being able to find it Anywhere.) but i was able to find you in the end and now i’m feeling very happy. anyway! i will be reading ur works now thank u for still being alive and for still writing

(it's me indeed!)

hello ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ it has been a while, hasn't it! given that my old blog was where you came from, haha.

i think less than a handful of people figured out it's me at the beginning of this blog (before i deleted jeonginks) because of the similar writing style. i assume it may be more difficult to realize that now because i have changed drastically over the years, or at least i like to think so. i'm a hanner now (literally the worst change ever!!!), and while i write relatively similarly to before, the content is still somewhat different in specific themes, i think? i'm not hiding the fact that i was jeonginks anymore, though. i think it's been long enough and like, genuinely who cares?

i hope you like whatever i have on this blog. i am going through a very slow process of rewriting my old works, mostly because i'm more interested in either not writing at all or writing new things. my current goal is to finish the historical hyunjin au i had ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

[the-a-archives]

it is you! I am so happy.

your writing was beautiful as I expected. And I loved all details.

delete what isn’t you and rebirth was is you. I can help since I remember a lot of the topics you wrote essays on.

firstly, we can start slow. Update me on how you are now after these years. Clothing change, music change, hobbies, tv shows, BOOK!!!! I remember you read a lot.

I'm so happy as well.

You flatter what is rusty, however, an admirable flaw of yours.

I'm shocked you remember so much after all these years.

I believe a lot has changed since the pandemic, and if you remember how I was in 2019-latest, then I am almost not the same person you knew. But I'll go in order since I'm not good at talking about myself.

Since the pandemic started, I suppose there has been some highs and lows in regards to changes. Mentally, I feel like maybe we've taken a few steps back, but I think that came from paranoia of being in the house (unwillingly) 24/7. The lock-down was very hard on me, since I enjoy things like morning walks, drinking my coffee outside, and other things.

My attitude also took a left turn for quite sometime, and for a while I was quite mean to both myself and others. It became a plague of a habit, and my bitterness was a projection of my own struggling mental illnesses. For a moment of time, I found myself thinking I was 16 and in a not-so-good environment once again, and me defending myself constantly against nothing affected my relationships with many people.

Though, some of the people I had gotten involved with at this time deserved the way I was acting. And I don't think being in their presence helped this temporary philosophy I was fulfilling. Kill or be killed. But starting 2021, I began to attempt this journey on reclaiming myself, except with my horrible memory on who I once was, the journey was abandoned two months in. I then began this phase of pretending to be other people in hopes that it would remind me of who I once was, I invested in music that was a distant memory for me, or music I had no knowledge of at all.

Rock was a big outlet for this, something about the fogginess of my subconscious mind mingled with the disruptiveness of these songs and stimulated me in a way that made going on day-to-day easier. Or at least, distracted me long enough to not dwell on anything too much. I remember delving back into a band named Bayside, and one of their songs sparked fond memories of be bonding with my mother.

Things were steady with this rediscovery of this stimulation. And eventually it bled into all aspects of my life. The way I dressed always seemed to reflect what I was listening to, I even had a period where I walked around in black-washed jeans (worst decision of my life) and a black biker-looking jacket that said the words 'CREATURE' on the back in these big, bold, green letters.

Someone was an edge-lord.

I then moved onto this Machine Gun Kelly phase of my life, I had discovered one of his songs back in 2020 when I was in a (regrettable) romantic relationship with an individual. The song was 'Bloody Valentine' and the familiarity of the pop-rock Travis Baker (his drummer) was known for itched this stimuli I was seeking at the time. I was like a teething baby in these moments, just sticking anything and everything in my mouth to sooth this gnawing yearn of being me again. The MGK phase remained until recently, and I still find myself appreciating his music every few months but I definitely don't seek it 24/7 like I used to.

My nicotine addiction had come back around this time, and I ruined my sobriety of 2 years with a cigarette after breaking up with that unfortunate situation of an individual. I remember the song I had blasted when taking that first smoke too, and the guilt in my chest when I realized what I was doing. The song was 'Actin' Like That', a collab Yungblud had with MGK at the time. I pathetically looped that songs into the hours of the morning during that break-up, and cringe at that to this day.

More recently, as in early-2023, I got sick of being someone I wasn't and attempted to drop the genre all together. But a part of me was comforted by the loudness in my day-to-day, and I soon realized I have created a dependency with music. I now listen to it almost 24/7, and have broken my Spotify wrapped countless time with how many minutes I put into the damn app. But despite my slight-comfort zone with rock, I dove head first into a genre that I knew nothing about and had no previous connections with.

For a minute, I tried rap, took some suggestions here and there and I remember the first person I listened to was Logic... or maybe Eminem. I only knew these two because I remembered you telling me how you listened to them on your daily runs, and how they kept you going. Yeah, I tried it with a song called 'Homicide'. . .

I didn't get far with that.

But recent, recently, I had remembered an artist you loved and decided to look him up. Три дня дождя. And the first song I listened to, I remember I fell in love with. It was Отпускай, and it was the first time I was fully relaxed and soothed by what I was listening to in a while. Granted, at the time I had no idea what this artist was saying, but over time I did research here and there to get a bare-boned understanding. And now, I find myself listening to his music everyday.

When I started listening to his music more, it reminded me of this brief moment we had where we shared music that reminded us of home. You had shared your music, and me not knowing a lick of Russian was so lost. Though, you were the same way, because for a good amount of time, the majority of the music I listened to was either classical or in French.

I remember you trying to sing in French, comedically horrific.

I've began listening to this songs again, and they've filled something within me that other genre's haven't done. But I'm grateful for exploring, because it's shown me an appreciation for what is out there, and it allows me to connect with others at a deeper level. I do have an artist for you however, when you can, you should pick up a modern composer Joshua Kyan Aalampour. He's magnificent, and I feel like you need music like that in your life other than that screamo you listen to (if you still do).

As for clothing, I think I've found my way back into this academic styling? Well, to be clear, I think the trending term for it now is Dark Academic. I find myself gravitating to browns and muted colors, rather than whites and bold colors like I used to. I don't wish to stand out anymore, it attracts unwanted attention and I find myself liking to keep to me and me only. But that doesn't mean I haven't recently given things like friend groups a try, I do remember you trying to convince me they aren't so bad. They're not... but I like choosing who I speak to instead of letting fate decide where we go, but that might be a defense mechanism. I am open to friends, I just get scared.

I have these black boots I wear almost regularly now, and they add a few inches to me, so instead of being 5'2, I am now 5'4! A big accomplishment if you ask me.

But that's still nothing compared to you since you're 6'2, ahah.

As for books, I no longer read fantasy as much as I used to, or Sci-Fi. I think I've outgrown some of those, but I do read a lot of fiction. That's it, just plain old fiction. I find myself reading a lot of Dostoevsky recently, you would be so happy to hear that I'm sure. Though I might be reaching an end to his books soon, I've read most of them. I might move onto Franz Kafka next, but you know me, I have to finish an author at a time.

Though, I do recommend a small literary sci-fi book called 'This Is How You Lose The Time War'. It's a nice sapphic telling, and it is very heart warming and by far one of my most favorite sci-fi romances. I don't really watch TV anymore, the most recent series of a show I've finished is Wednesday (2022). And that was a joy to watch, you know how much I adore The Addams Family. My taste in movies are still the same, horror movies and ones far before this time are still my go-to.

As for hobbies, I still love ice skating. And I enjoy writing, obviously. I might pick up some different sports, but I'm unsure. I don't think this realm of my life has changed much.

Oh! Before I go, I must tell you something that would shock you. I have pierced my face! Yes, I did it even after I said I would never. I have gotten lip piercings, and I do not regret them one bit. No, sir.

I believe you're caught up now!

Lovingly,

A.

[auggietopia]

i started this blog in december 2019. it was the first tumblr i was ever truly active on, and i had no idea how tags or anything worked. i was freshly 16 and at the age where i was just starting to discover who and what i was, and a lot of it came through in the poetry i posted here. i had very rigid ideas of what literature and poetry was, as i had stopped doing it for a very long time. i wanted attention. i was eager, although i didnt know it then. i was hopeful.

covid hit three months later, in march 2020. i was in the year group whose gcses were cancelled. i posted one poem right as covid hit, in march, and then my last poem i posted in september of 2020 around when i started sixth form, after the longest summer i will ever have in my life. it was also the best summer i have had in my life. i spent 5 months calling with my best friends so constantly to the point i woke up at 6pm and went to bed at 9am just to talk to them. i realised my identity and tried to come out to a mother i would quickly find out was transphobic. i made a lot of friends. i started to gain some real footing on who i was.

i blinked and i am in march 2024. it is four years and a few days since i posted my second to last poem, which is a number that feels truly shocking to type out as it feels like it has been a year at most. in 2019 i turned 16, but in 2024 i will turn 21. this fact upsets me as the absolute formative amount of ageing i went through between the ages of 13-16 feels like it was my entire life and that there isnt room for anything else worthwhile to occur. on my 18th birthday, i held the frog teddy i bought for myself and listened to lord huron at full volume to block out the fear blurring its way into the edges like a migraine. on my 19th birthday, i was alone and terrified in my university dorm. i can't even remember my 20th birthday because of how insignificant it was. ageing, past the age of 18, went from being something exciting to something terrifying in a way i told myself it never would. and yet i am still here, and yet i still age. in a few months, it will be my 21st, and it will likely be at home, and it will likely be alone.

in the space between 16 and now, a lot happened. there were some pretty good things. they sit tiny next to the fact i lost my best friend in 2021 because they turned out to be quite literally the worst person i have ever known on this planet. i will never forgive them for what they did. realistically, every problem i hold against them is so small in the scale of the universe that maybe it isn’t worth holding onto at all, but i have not learned that lesson. i am aggressively refusing that lesson, in fact. at least for right now.

my mental health also took the biggest nosedive it has ever taken. sixth form shut down all sense of self discovery i had once i begin to nosedive in my academics and lose all of my friends. i still havent regained my footing. it has been 2 years since i left sixth form, and i still havent regained my footing.

but it is nice to look back over this blog and not regret a single thing i wrote.

all of this is to say i am going to start posting here again. and, in the most cliche way possible, i am going to do it for me this time. and i am going to post whatever i want without caring whether or not it is refined enough, because life is scarily fleeting and i can do whatever i want.

i was first allergictodrowning, and when i thought that was stupid i became autumndrowns, and now i will be something else that i havent decided yet but it will definitely be equally as stupid. :)

[the-damnable-fool]

Dracula (2020), the most disappointing piece of media I've ever seen

This fury has been rotting into my brain for at least two years now, so now I'm going to subject you to it. This is going to be a very long rant/critique/violent catharsis.

Netflix's Dracula miniseries is a three episode series starring Claes Bang, Dolly Wells, and John Hefferman. The show ran for three episodes and was written by Stephen Moffat. You may recognize him as the longtime writer for a relatively insignificant little program known as "Doctor Who".

Episode one presents us with an interesting and well executed premise. Jonathan Harker, scarred and deformed from his encounter with the eponymous Dracula, recounts his experience to Sister Agatha Van Helsing. Much of what transpires is based heavily on the events of the original novel, though you may have already gleaned from the name "Agatha Van Helsing" that some creative liberties have been taken. I won't spoil much, since I believe this episode to be worth watching. Suffice to say that the whole of the main cast is great, Harker and Agatha Van Helsing doubly so, and there's some excellent special effects work being done.

Episode two is, by and large, my favorite episode of the lot. Because of that, I'll speak even less of it. The entire episode is framed as a murder mystery aboard a boat which Dracula himself recounts to Agatha Van Helsing, which is an interesting parallel to draw with the first episode. Dracula is, obviously, the murderer, but the actual twist is truly unexpected. Agatha Van Helsing is one of those rare and delightful characters that comes across as genuinely witty, intelligent, and dangerous in all the best ways. There's very few times a character has done something and I've thought to myself "wow, that makes perfect sense, but I never would've thought to do it". She's a treat, and that wonderful character writing makes every interaction between her and Dracula come across as a devilish battle of wits. What's more, there's some genuinely heartfelt and emotional moments between the background characters that stick with me to this day.

Then you hit the cutoff point.

If you've liked the series so far, and have become attached to its tone, characters, and general quality of writing, you should stop watching five minutes before the ending of the second episode. Unless you want to be disappointed in the worst sort of way I would encourage you to cut your losses, switch off your TV, say to yourself "Damn, that was a really good two-part movie", and move on. It is not worth it. You have been warned.

Beyond this point there be spoilers.

So Episode Fucking Three

Up until now, the series had been doing a great job of constructing some very compelling, well written, and likeable characters. Agatha Van Helsing in particular was genuinely intelligent, witty, bitingly cynical, and had a character dynamic with Dracula that could only be described as "If we weren't diametrically morally opposed to one another, we'd be fucking". The crewmen of the ship they came in on were, while not heavily characterized, very human and easy to sympathize with. Johnathan Harker was both tragic and heroic while he lasted and, while I don't remember much of Mina, I remember liking her well enough. So, what do you do with a slam dunk roster of characters like that?

Well, you kill them all off in an offscreen time jump of course!

Episode three takes place in modern London and I immediately hate it. Agatha, my favorite character, is gone, as are all of the characters we've come to know and love. In their place is Agatha's indirect descendant, played by the same actress and so woefully boring that I don't remember her name at time of writing, and a couple of other generic stooges. There's a junior researcher at the facility, a couple of wildly shallow club-girl side characters that he pines after, and a few others that I forget.

If I'm completely honest with you, I didn't watch the entirety of episode three, and you'll see why in a second.

So the episode starts. We open up on Dracula, soaking wet and crawling out of the ocean on the shore of modern day London. He's immediately surrounded by a group of mercenaries armed with cameras, a helicopter, and conventional firearms, along with our new Agatha Van Helsing wannabe. Long story short, he kills a mercenary and escapes into the city as day breaks, has his cliche little "woah I'm immortal and experiencing the modern world for the first time" bit, and then gets captured in the sloppiest way imaginable.

Turns out, Mina spent the vast majority of her inherited money on creating a foundation in memory of John Harker with the specific purpose of locating and containing Dracula. It's sort of like the Foundation from the SCP universe except they only contain one mildly boring, vaguely bisexual anomaly. They've got money, professional mercenaries, trained scientists, a secret Dracula holding chamber specifically for holding Dracula, the works.

So Dracula gets dragged into the Dracula containment chamber, and this thing is the real deal. Constructed of bulletproof plexiglass and steel, able to be remotely exposed to sunlight at any time, surrounded by open floor and armed mercenaries, it's pretty safe to say that this Dracula containment chamber is easily the finest chamber ever constructed with the sole intention of containing Dracula. All he's got is a table, a chemical toilet, and an ipad loaded with digital books. He gets fed blood through a tube at regular intervals and occasionally gets poked at by researchers trying to figure out just what the fuck he is.

Now, by this point, we the audience were doing our best to get back onboard. Sure, our favorite characters were gone, save for the villain, and sure, the tone had taken a weird lurch with the time jump, but that was all fine. Just have Agatha's great great grand-niece be just as charming as she was and we can all have a grand time watching Dracula masterfully manipulate his way out of the Dracula time-out box. We've seen his guile before, so we're all primed and ready for another fantastic battle of wits, just like on the boat.

But that doesn't happen.

What follows is a brief summary of events that happen in the episode in vaguely chronological order. By reading it you may be made privy to the sudden and utter incompetence of the new lead character and to the wildly stupid turn that the writing took in episode three.

The Harker Foundation finds Draculas coffin at the bottom of the sea in the wreckage of the ship from episode two. For no good reason, Agatha's descendant (the director of this foundation) personally goes to scuba dive into the ocean to take a look at the unconscious Drac.

Also for no good goddamn reason, she sticks her whole ass thumb in his mouth to feel his fangs. He bites her thumb off instinctively, giving him the small amount of blood he needs to reawaken. That's one instance of complete incompetence before the ten minute mark.

Instead of recovering the coffin immediately, the Foundation pulls back and waits on shore with armed mercenaries until night falls hours later. Why they don't just nab him immediately while hes sleeping, I don't know, but I'll count that as a second instance of complete incompetence.

Drac escapes and kills some people, including a few mercenaries. It is established that the Foundation has the power and influence to make these deaths disappear.

Drac is transported to the Dracula holding chamber.

In the course of less than 24 hours, Dracula FIGURES OUT HOW A TABLET WORKS, GUESSES THE FUCKING WIFI PASSWORD BECAUSE ITS HIS FUCKING NAME, AND SKYPE CALLS THE LAW FIRM THAT USED TO REPRESENT HIM TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

Do you see why I was furious? Do you see why my friends and I stood up and yelled at the TV screen? Do you see why we turned it off immediately? Do you see why I want to hit Stephen Moffat with a chair?

Needless to say, the lawyer takes a call from someone claiming to be a man that employed his firm two centuries prior completely seriously. He walks directly into the facility with no explanation as to how he found out where it was or why the guards let him past, and threatens to sue the Foundation if they continue to hold his client against his will.

The inferior Agatha throws up her hands and says "welp, guess we gotta let him go" and just. Let's Dracula leave. No consideration for the consequences of doing so beforehand. No thought given to the possibility that they might simply inform the relevant authorities that he'd killed people that very night and therefore should be contained and studied. They just fuckin' let him leave.

So lets recount all the insane leaps of logic that need to have transpired in order for this to happen.

One, Dracula would need to have figured out how the internet works within the span of 24 hours despite having only just learned that electricity existed. I'll give that a pass since its implied he can absorb knowledge by drinking blood.

Two, Dracula would have to guess the wifi password for this top secret, high security facility... Which is literally just DRACULA. Why the fuck was it set to his name? Why was he given a tablet that's physically capable of connecting to wifi? Why didn't the mercenaries that guard him at all times not see him using Skype and say "Hmm, maybe we should stop him from doing that"? Moreover, why the fuck does the room he's contained in even have wifi? Isn't everything I just said a massive security oversight for an organization that's poured millions into this containment facility?

Three, Dracula's lawyer would have to believe that an unknown, unsolicited caller, who has neither modern means of identifying himself nor any records verifying his existence for over two hundred years, is genuinely a client of his from two hundred years ago in need of legal counsel. Furthermore, Dracula would need to have some way of communicating his exact location to this man.

Four, the security teams responsible for keeping the facility safe and free of intruders would have to not only let this lawyer into a top secret facility based solely on his own claim that his client was inside, but let him directly into the main holding chamber that is under constant guard all without so much as warning the fucking director of the Facility.

Five, the director of this facility would have had to completely thrown out any alternative to letting a known mass murdering superbeing out of confinement despite full knowledge of what that would entail. They could've just fought the battle in court. It's easy to prove that he needs to be locked up when you can show the judge the bodies of the people he killed that day. Even if that's too much trouble, why not pop the lawyer in the back of the skull and make him disappear like the mercenary? Or Dracula's victims? It can't be that hard if you've done it three times this episode.

It's the kind of twist you would expect out of a piece of satire, not an actual, serious work written by an accredited writer. To this day I have not seen any other work of fiction take such a sudden and sharp decline in quality, and I doubt that I ever will again. It's as though the writers intentionally made every character at least thirty percent stupider just for the sake of giving Dracula his "gotcha".

So what went wrong?

Honestly, I think that the writers mistook their villain for the main character of the series, which ultimately just doesn't work. Sure, we love Dracula. We didn't come to watch the Dracula show out of our rabid love for Johnathan Harker, we came for the big scary villain. The problem is that a villain still has to be a villain. While we do love him, we don't root for him, we root for the people that oppose him despite the odds. They killed off every recurring character except for Dracula and changed the setting and tone so massively that it was completely unrecognizable from the first two episodes, and they did this because they thought the audience be invested enough in this villain for it not to matter. Not only did it backfire, but the ridiculous amount of plot mandated stupidity and Deus Ex Machina that it took to get Dracula out of his first jam in that new setting completely killed any further drive that I had to continue watching.

This lazy twist not only made the main characters look incompetent, it made Dracula look lame. He's the Prince of Darkness. The fucking Nightwalker. The King of Vampires does not call his fucking lawyer.

Anyway, I'm finished with my rant now. Congrats on sticking it out this long. There's no prize or anything.