#I basically did a complete re-read from the start since I left it off halfway years ago and I inhaled it in like 2 weeks. love mxtx

[longlostlorian]

One of my favorite creators drawing tgcf fanart???? I have been ✨blessed✨ they look so cute in your style!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'd really love to draw more of them!!

[tanadrin]

Dev Patel and the Green Knight

I finally got around to seeing The Green Knight. Overall, I enjoyed it--David Lowery does a good job capturing the essential weirdness of the tale, which is very much about taking a mundane circumstance (a Christmas feast) and suddenly catapulting the reader into a mythic otherworld through the intrusion of the alien and monstrous, and the fantastical costumes, dramatic lighting, and dissonant score all contribute very well to a sense of otherness that permeates the original story.

But I find it interesting--and, I'll admit, a little frustrating--that no modern film adaptation of medieval literature is really capable of taking the story it's adapting on its own merits. This isn't an objection to modifying the source text, or taking it in new, non-literal direction. I can think of plenty of adaptations of work that play with the source material in interesting ways, and are better for it. Even very faithful adaptations like Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings are inevitably going to alter the source based on the need to adapt it for the screen and the whims of the director. But when it comes to medieval classics, texts like Beowulf or Gawain and the Green Knight are always held at arm's length. An ironic layer is always interpolated into the original story, and even in modified form the story is never allowed to stand on its own.

Contrast, for instance, modern retellings of Arthurian legend; or Wagner's Nibelungenleid; or something like Neil Gaiman's book of Norse mythology. These are all adaptations of much older stories, all medieval; and the authors typically happy to let the stories operate on their own terms. In fact, that is often a selling point: dipping into these tales is a way of sampling an alien culture, one that is remote from us in time rather than space, and part of the sense of heightened drama is the understanding that these stories do not necessarily depict the world in the same way that modern realist prose does. They are fairy-stories, in the Tolkienian sense, and something not quite even like "high fantasy," which, although it is a genre which owes much to the mythic tradition, is usually *told* in the same manner as other realist fiction. And you could take these stories and re-cast them in a realist mold--that's definitely been done with Arthurian legend, either via anachronism or trying to place them in an era-appropriate historical context, and even that yields something quite like the original in tenor, even if the language used to relate the story is often very different.

Watching this movie, I was *strongly* reminded of Robert Zemeckis's Beowulf, in that this did not feel like an attempt to adapt Gawain and the Green Knight for the screen. It felt like an attempt to tell a story *about* Gawain and the Green Knight (the text), a story which does not stand on its own. You don't have to have read the text to understand the movie (although I think some directorial decisions would be a bit mystifying if you hadn't), but the movie definitely situates itself *as a response* to the text. Which is an odd choice! Actually, another good point of comparison is Spike Jonze's Adaptation. It started life as an adaptation of Susan Orlean's The Orchid Thief, but Charlie Kaufman sort of gave up writing that halfway through and wrote a movie about the difficulty he was having writing *that* movie, and the result is something very weird (and very good) that is full of metafictional elements that depend on the existence of this other work, in a way that a straight retelling of The Orchid Thief for the screen obviously would not. And while The Green Knight isn't that extreme, it is definitely playing on the structure of the medieval poem, and replying to it.

The core of the movie (as I understood it) is a tension between young Gawain's aspiration to knightliness, his ambition which is born at least in part from his mother's encouragement, and his own failure to live up to the heroic ideal of greatness. Not chivalric--this is a movie in which the ethos of chivalry makes not even the briefest of appearance, which is weird given that it's nominally an Arthurian romance, and that the chivalric ethos is extremely important to the original text. Instead we have a generic greatness being described, one which is associated with renown, with taking part in mythic events, and with achieving high rank and honor. In the service of seeing her son obtain all this, Gawain's mother seems to cast some kind of spell, whereupon the titular Green Knight appears at Arthur's Christmas-feast; and as in the poem, a game of beheadings is proffered. Gawain accepts the challenge, beheads the knight, and the knight rides away, promising he'll meet Gawain a year and a day hence at the Green Chapel. So far so straightforward. When Gawain sets off a year later to meet the knight, his mother gives him an enchanted belt to keep him safe from harm. Gawain goes on to have a couple of side-of-the-road adventures and mishaps, the kind of thing that's par for the course when you're telling an Arthurian romance, until he arrives at the house of a mysterious benefactor, just about a day away from the Chapel, who grants him hospitality until the day of his challenge.

Now, in the original story, this is where Gawain gets the magic belt, and it's hugely important: Gawain and his host promise to exchange anything they might receive at the end of each day, when the host has been out hunting all day and Gawain has been in the house recuperating from his travels. During this time, the host's wife repeatedly tries to seduce Gawain; and Gawain is trapped between the imperative not to sleep with his host's wife (a major violation of the rules of good chivalric conduct!) and the imperative not to offend the woman (also a violation of those rules). He succeeds, for the most part; he is forced at one point to give his host a kiss at the end of the day, since the wife kissed him; this is shown as him holding nothing back and acting in good faith on the vow he made to his host. When Gawain finally rebuffs the wife for good, she insists that, even if he won't sleep with her, he should at least take a magic belt she has woven that will keep him from harm. He does; but he does *not* give this to his host. When he finally goes to the Green Chapel, the Knight returns the original blow as promised--but only nicks Gawain lightly. He reveals himself to be none other than the host who was sheltering him; the nick was his reprimand for withholding that final gift, but because of his good conduct he is otherwise left unharmed. The whole thing was a test of sorts, one which Gawain passed. Despite flinching at first from the blow, and keeping the belt secret, he shows himself ultimately to be a man of good (albeit not perfect) conduct, and *that* is why he wins honor from the whole affair.

The movie takes this basic narrative and alters it in key places, completely changing the valence of the whole thing. First, Gawain gets the belt at the beginning of his quest, as mentioned; he loses it on the way, but when he reaches the castle, the wife of his host (who succeeds in seducing him with a handjob) presents it to him as if she had woven it herself. He does not actually engage in the game of exchanged with his host, who is *also* not the Green Knight. And we're treated to a monologue about the color green from the wife that feels beat for beat like it's been ripped off from someone's undergraduate essay about Gawain and the Green Knight, which is a little weird even in the context of the rest of the movie. Finally when Gawain reaches the chapel, the knight goes to return the blow--and Gawain completely chickens out and flees. We are then treated to an extended sequence of Gawain returning home; being feted as a hero; earning his knighthood (presumably by lying about what happened); succeeding Arthur as king; him abandoning his low-class beau once she bears him a son, and marrying a princess; going to war; his son dying in a war; and finally, as an old man, being trapped in his throne room as a besieging army breaks its way inside. Just before they do, he removes the magic belt from around his waist, his head fall off, and bam--we're shown this has been an Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge thing this whole time, and the Green Knight has not yet landed his blow.

Gawain finally takes off the belt, throws it aside, and tells the knight to go ahead--and the knight bends down and congratulates him. In context, the reading seems to be this: the belt is a talisman of Gawain's mother's influence, of external expectations for what kind of man he is. The Knight is Arthur or perhaps an agent of his, and the test in *this* case is whether Gawain can be his own person. All the events leading up to this point are perhaps a part of the original magic Gawain's mother cast, an effort to Lilith Weatherwax her kid to greatness by putting him into an epic story. Implicitly, then, the Gawain and the Green Knight we all know is the false version of the tale, the tale as Gawain's mother would have it told.

This is all very clever. But I'm afraid it's so clever it falls apart in the end. Because the structure of the original story that this depends on is dependent in turn on taking the whole notion of chivalric virtue seriously, which this movie plainly does not. Gawain is shown as irreverent and lustful and a bit of a party animal--lovable and good hearted fundamentally, but definitely not an Arthurian hero. That's fine, but that's a very modern sort of character, one that feels out of place in a movie that is trying very hard also to be tonally unmodern, firmly embedded in a mythic otherwhen of Arthurian legend. Moments of slice-of-life mundaneness, while charming, strain mightily against the epic tone the movie tries to take in other places, and strange events like a ghost seeking her lost head or immense giants striding the landscape. We are jostled: are we in the land of myth? Or are we in historical Britain? We cannot be in both!

And this is a movie that was definitely made by people who had read the original text; not just the original text, but also a great deal of criticism *about* the original text. The movie namechecks the theme of fivefold symmetry that's incredibly important to the structure of the poem; there's the aforementioned undergrad essay about colors about 3/4th of the way through; and there's the fact that the structure of the original plot (down to Morgan LeFay in disguise as an old woman in the host's castle) is present in altered form in every detail. But none of these details add up to much. There's a weird homoerotic kiss with the host that implies that in fact *he* wanted to sleep with Gawain, in addition to his wife; the ghost Gawain encounters early on tells him the Green Knight is in fact someone he knows (and therefore *can't* be the host; I think it's implied to be Arthur, like I said, but this is never quite confirmed), and while all these things *about* the original poem are shown, none of them ever get integrated thematically into the plot.

I think as a result, whatever Lowery was going for, the whole movie kind of falls apart in the end. And that's a pity, because somewhere in there is just a really weird, visually striking, really gripping, embellished-and-polished-for-modern-sensibilities-but-also-thematically-true-to-the-source retelling of Gawain and the Green Knight. And that would have been a much better movie! What are we to make of this, a movie that purports to be telling a story-behind-the-story, but one that leaves no room or context for the original? After all, Gawain in the end does *not* flee, does not return home a coward and a liar; presumably, he earns his honor, and can be honest about what happened. But if he is honest, none of the rest of what we have been shown makes a lick of sense, or has any point.

One feels a bit as if modern directors, when confronted with medieval texts being a bit weird, a bit alien in their worldview, instead of realizing that's actually something people like some of from time to time, feel like they have to construct an artificial bridge between the Middle Ages and the present day. But because it is invariably metafictional and self-referential, as if to say "don't worry, we know nobody REALLY wants to watch a bunch of boring medieval shit played straight," it comes off as cringing and ashamed of its source material. This isn't a plea for historicity! Gawain and the Green Knight is not history. But one does occasionally want to see an adaptation of one's favorite works without directors being ashamed of the text they are adapting! And since most people will not have read the original, I am rather confused about what the director intends for the audience to get out of all these references that are dependent on it, but don't stand on their own merits within the narrative of the movie itself.

The acting was good, the set design and costumes were terrific, I loved the slow and measured pacing and the weird score, and the design of the Knight himself, and the landscapes and almost everything else about the movie. So I don't think it's a waste of time, especially if you have read and enjoyed Gawain and the Green Knight, in the original or in translation. But it's definitely a pity to see a movie that was, well, *almost* great, but ended up merely OK.

[autumnsart22]

Flat Tire: Suna x fem reader

SMUT 🔥🔥

This is technically a part 3 of First time in College: Suna x reader, but I decided to make it a stand alone. You can read the other parts if you’re interested. Also, I left the ending kind of open, so I would be super happy to continue it if anyone wants me to...

P.S. I feel like it’s rare to have someone look this fine when it’s NOT EVEN FANART BRUHHHH

Suna was late to pick you up for your “date” (was it a date? He hadn’t made it particularly clear), which wasn’t a good sign. You had spent the hours after your class at 3 pacing around, trying to figure out what outfit to wear, and questioning your whole existence. Your roommate, Kiyoko, didn’t make things any better. When you had explained how you had met Suna at the frat party, how sweet he had seemed, her mouth had dropped and her eye practically popped out of her head. 

“Out of every guy you could have picked, you chose Suna Rintarou?” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. 

“What? Is he...bad?” You asked, suddenly nervous. You liked Suna, from the amount you knew about him. He seemed like he was pretty arrogant, and also kind of lazy, but he was nice to talk to. You knew you’d be disappointed if he ended up being a piece of shit. 

“He’s just...you know…” Kiyoko was clearly trying to find a way to phrase it. “He’s ditched a lot of different girls, sleeping around and then never speaking to them again, that sort of thing. Typical frat boy behavior.” 

You sighed, since it was exactly what you expected. “Well, it’s fine. We’re just going to eat, so I’ll just get it over with and then be out of his life.” 

“Ok. I just don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You waved her off. “I know, I know. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, six o’clock came and went, and no sign of Suna; suddenly, despite my dismissal, “getting hurt” seemed like a distinct possibility. By 6:30, you ditched your shoes and coat, crashing on your bed and starting the newest episode of Attack on Titan. Fuck Suna and his dumb pretty face. You were good with Levi. 

Halfway through the episode, there was a knock at your door, and your muscles tensed so suddenly that your neck twinged. 

“Uh, who is it?” You yelled as you rolled out of bed, stumbling to the door. 

“Su--” You opened it and blinked up at the guy outside in shock. “--na.” 

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows. He was wearing black pants and a black crewneck, a white collared shirt underneath. 

“Hi,” he panted, completely out of breath. “Sorry.” 

You snorted. “Um. It’s late.” 

“I got lost.” 

“Did you now?” 

“And I had to go back home to change.” 

“You could have texted me!”

“...I don’t have your number.” 

You opened your mouth, but you had nothing to say to that. “Well, fuck,” you muttered, turning away. 

“Sorry. You’ll still come to eat though, right?” 

You wanted to curse him out for making you wait so long, for making you think he ditched you for the night and forgot. 

“Fine. But you’re a dick.” 

He grinned lazily, leaning in the door frame as you grabbed your shoes and jacket again, scooping up your purse as you exited your dorm. 

“What?” You said as you finally approached him, blushing as you met his eyes despite how hard you tried not to. 

“Nothing.” 

He led the way to his car in silence, and it was a strange mix of awkward and comfortable. Suna didn’t seem like the type to be super talkative, but at the same time you felt like you should be making conversation. 

When you got to his car, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down before sliding into the passenger seat. Of course, the whole car smelled like weed, but it wasn’t overwhelming and honestly kind of nice.

“So, you’re a freshman?” He asked, pulling out of the lot, and you nodded. 

“Are you?” 

“Sophomore.” 

“What’s your major?” 

“Undecided, but I enjoy photography. Not the best career path though…” 

“Wait, that's really cool.” You glanced at him, impressed. “What do you take pictures of?” 

“Anything, but people mostly.” 

“You’ll have to show me some time.” 

“Only if you forgive me for being late.” 

You crossed your arms, snorting. “Fine.” 

The car suddenly jerked, and you gasped as you heard a rush of air coming from the rear. 

“Oh...fuck,” Suna muttered, pulling off to the side of the road. “I think we just got a flat tire.” 

“How????” 

“How am I supposed to know?” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Do you want me to call someone?” 

“Hang on, I might be able to…” He hopped out of the car before finishing, and you sat in silence as you heard him walking around to examine the damage. A moment later, he re-entered the driver's side with an annoyed expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s flat. Shit.” 

“What are we going to do?”

“My friend has a spare tire, but it might take him a bit to get here. Are you ok with waiting?”

You shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Sorry, this is the worst night ever.” 

“It’s not your fault. We can just hang out until your friend gets here.”

Suna’s expression didn’t change, but you thought you saw his shoulders relax a little. In the darkness of the car, you couldn’t help but admire his profile as he turned off the car and shoved his hair back from his face. 

“What?” He said, turning to look at you, and you went beat red. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re looking at me.” 

“N-no.” 

“Really?” He smirked, leaning towards you slightly. 

Your heart stuttered, practically stopping at you stared into his pretty yellow eyes. Oh my god...

“I--” 

Before you could answer, Suna sat back, still smirking. A car drove past you on the dark street and you used the momentary distraction to try and get ahold of yourself. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Suna asked, and you looked over at him again. 

“You say that like we have another option besides just sitting here.” 

He shrugged, pulling a THC pen from his pocket and holding it out to you. You took it from him, hitting it twice before handing it back. 

“What’s your major?” He asked, holding the pen to his lips. 

“Political economics right now, but I’m considering switching to english since I like writing.” 

“What do you write?” 

“All kinds of things, although mostly short stories. I’ve been working on my second novel too, and the first draft is almost done. It’s really shitty right now, but hopefully once I go back and edit it…” 

You paused, suddenly embarrassed. Were you rambling? You could talk about writing all day, but most people didn’t care enough to keep listening beyond the first sentence. 

“Yeah?” Suna said, waiting for you to finish.

“Oh. That was it.” You glanced away, waiting for a subject change. 

“What’s your novel about?” He paused, laughing under his breath. “I can’t believe you wrote a fucking book. That’s so sick.”

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your face, and you covered your mouth with your hand. “Ok, short version--” 

“Short version? Why? We’ve got plenty of time.” 

You opened your mouth, and then paused. No one actually ever asked to hear about your writing beyond just the basic formalities, and you couldn’t believe how happy it made you feel that someone seemed genuinely interested. 

Deciding to abandon all pretenses, you jumped into a long scale explanation of the plot you were writing, all while Suna watched your face intently. 

“...And yeah! That’s basically it,” you finished finally, smiling brightly at him. “Sorry if that was super boring, I didn’t mean to…” 

“Can I read it when you finish? I’m invested.” He took another hit off the pen while watching you, and you smiled to yourself. How was this boy saying all the right things? Fuck. 

“I suppose.” 

“You suppose?”

“Depends on my mood.” 

“What can I do to guarantee you’ll let me read?” He reached over to grab your chin, stroking your cheeks gently with his thumb, and your breathing hitched. “Ha, you’re cute when you’re all red like this.” 

You snorted, but didn’t pull away. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.” 

“Really?” He leaned closer to you, until your faces were only inches apart in the darkness.

“N-no.” Your heart thundered. 

“Hm,” He murmured. “I’ll have to try to change that.” 

And then he was pressing your body back into the seat and kissing you hard on the mouth. 

 Oh my god, it was heaven. He tasted like minty chapstick and weed, and you sighed, your mind going blank. 

His long fingers tangled in your hair, dragging you closer, and a low noise came from his chest as you opened your mouth. You pulled away after a long minute, gasping, which only prompted Suna to trail open mouthed kisses down your neck. 

You leaned your head back to give him easier access, letting out an embarrassing noise as his hand slid under your shirt to trace the skin of your stomach. 

You weren’t a virgin, but you had only had sex with one person--your previous boyfriend--and it had been less than satisfactory the few times you had done it. Apparently you had missed the physical contact more than you thought. 

You sat up, and Suna pulled away, his eyes a little glazed over and his hair messed up. God damn, he was fine. 

He smiled slowly as your eyes trailed down his chest to his crotch, and he slid his seat all the way back so there was enough room for you to crawl into his lap. 

It was awkward, and you slammed your head on the roof of the car hard enough to make you yelp in pain as you tried to maneuver over to him. But any embarrassment you might have felt washed away as he burst out laughing and kissed you gently on the mouth. 

You tugged at his shirt in annoyance, suddenly pissed that it was still in place, and he awkwardly pulled over his head. 

“Pushy,” he muttered, and you flicked him hard on the forehead. 

“Dick.” 

“No need to beg, sweetheart. You’ll get it soon.” 

You swallowed hard and your thighs clenched in anticipation, even as you rolled your eyes. 

Any annoyance you had flew from your head as he slipped a hand down your pants, the other coming up to tangle in your hair. Instead of touching you where you needed him to, he traced along your inner thighs, kissing your collarbone. 

“Suna,” you mumbled, suddenly impatient as you shifted your hips, and he grinned into your skin before you felt his fingers shove the thin fabric of your underwear aside. 

“Oh go--”  Your eyes rolled back as he slowly eased a digit into you, wiggling it as he slowly widened you up. 

“S-Shit,” you gasped, your hands grasping at his shirt as he added another finger, circling his thumb at the same time on your clit. 

“You’re already so fucking wet,” Suna grunted, kissing up your neck as you began to roll your hips, riding his hand. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, but he grinned wickedly and immediately pulled his hand from your pants. Your eyes widened in outrage, but you stopped when he held up his fingers, covered in your juices, and shoved them in his mouth. You almost came from the sight, clenching around nothing as your heart stuttered. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he mumbled, and you felt his dick twitch beneath you. It was hard as a rock in his pants, and you could feel it straining against the fabric. It was pretty big, if the bulge was evidence enough. 

You quickly fumbled to get his zipper open, needing to have him inside you right now. His fingers were good, but you needed... 

Suna smacked your hands away. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, and you obliged, choosing to ignore how hot you got at his commanding tone. You could unpack that later. 

It was a struggle to get the fabric off in the small space, but finally you were back in his lap, and he was holding your hips, and his (long) cock was free of his pants. You reached down, stroking it slowly and rubbing your thumb gently across the tip, spreading the precum that had gathered already. 

“Jesus christ,” Suna said, his voice strained, and he twitched in your hand. 

“Jesus wouldn’t appreciate his name being used in this context.” 

“He’d be jealous of me right now.” 

“You’re definitely going to hell for that.” 

“And you’re not? You little slut.” Suna shoved his fingers in your mouth while his other hand fumbled with a condom which he tugged from his pocket. He slid it down over his length with expert speed, clearly having done this many times before, but you shoved the thought from your mind.

Suna held your hips tightly as you positioned yourself over him, helping you as you eased yourself down onto his dick. He was larger than your last boyfriend, and it burned for a moment as you adjusted to his size, but Suna held your face and stroked your hair as you breathed through it. “You’re such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” he groaned in your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight.” 

His praise made you clench around him, the pain easing away, and you rolled your hips experimentally. The friction on your clit and almost made you cum right away, and you let out a moan into his neck as your head dropped onto his shoulder. Holy motherfucking shit how did it feel so good...

Suna buried his face in your chest as you began to ride him, shifting your hips slowly as you felt his full length hitting points you didn’t even know existed. When he ran his tongue along your nipple, you let out an embarrassing noise and fucked him faster. 

Your legs began to burn, but Suna took over easily, thrusting up into you while you held onto his shoulders. Your moans and the sound of sex filled the car, and your hand slid across the fogged glass of the window as you grasped for anything to hold onto. You were so close to coming, you could feel it all the way down to your toes. 

“You’re doing so good, baby, you feel so good,” Suna groaned, reaching down to rub your clit, his tongue circling your nipple at the same time, and with his voice in your ear, it was enough to finally send you over the edge. You clenched around him, your mouth opening in a silent scream as you came hard all over his cock.  It was easily the best orgasm you’d had during sex, possibly the best ever. Suna didn’t take his eyes off you as you came apart, relishing in how it was him who put that expression on your face, and how only he was seeing you like this right now. 

“And you said flattery doesn’t work on you,” Suna laughed, but you couldn’t even make yourself glare at him. 

“Idiot.” 

You panted as you came down from your high, but Suna still wasn’t finished. You could tell he was getting close by the way his pace picked up and how he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he thrust up into you. His groans were deep and sexy in your ear, making your overstimulated clit throb as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. 

“F-fuckkkk…” He panted, kissing you again and shoving his tongue in your mouth. He held onto your hair, tangled around his fist, forcing you to lean your head back as he created hickies all along your throat.

He finally came with a groan, his cock twitching as he held onto you tightly, head falling on your shoulder. You both stilled, panting, and you couldn’t help the slow smile that tugged at your lips. For a moment you were too tired to move as you felt his dick soften inside you, so you gently stroked his hair instead. 

“Are you ok?” He murmured, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a wreck, but you were sure you didn’t look much better. 

“I’m great,” you said, smiling. “Are you?”

 Suna blinked, looking dazed for a moment, but he nodded. 

You shifted, trying to get off his lap in the most graceful way possible, but your back slammed against the wheel and the car honked loudly. 

“Jesus!” You cursed, flinching, and Suna rolled his eyes. 

“You just woke the whole neighborhood.” 

“Ugh,” you glared at him as you pulled on your pants, readjusting your shirt to cover your chest once again. 

The car suddenly lit up as headlights pulled up behind you, and you whirled to face Suna. 

“Is that your friend? Wait, where’s your shirt?!” 

He wasn’t listening, casually tugging it over his head as he opened the driver’s side door. You heard a door slam from behind you, and then a guy with grey hair and dark tips leaned down to wave at you from Suna’s side. 

“Hi. Sorry it took so long, but I have the tire.” 

“Thanks,” Suna nodded, and then gestured to you. “Kita, this is Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is my friend Kita Shinsuke.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you said, but you felt your stomach drop as Kita’s eyes went to the fogged windows, where your hand print was still visible. 

“Yeah…” He raised his eyebrows. “Nice to meet you too.” 

Suna crossed his arms, looking bored. “Wanna help me change the tire?” 

The two boys left you alone as they went to swap out the flat, and you worked on trying to get your face to stop burning. By the time Suna finally got back, you felt decently less embarrassed; he probably did this all the time, so for Kita, it was definitely nothing new. He probably wouldn’t even remember your name. 

“Hey,” you looked over at Suna in surprise as he slid back into the driver’s seat and gently grabbed your face, kissing you slowly. 

“What was that for?” You sighed when he pulled away. 

He shrugged, smirking. “Are you still hungry?” 

Part 1 

Part 2

[joshslater]

Foreign Exchange

This is a re-release since the previous version got blocked for unknown reasons. I’m not going to bother to find yet another photo that doesn’t break the content rule, so you’ll have to imagine the lower part of a slim, white guy wearing red trunks with the outline of a massive penis. Or read the original story and more on my Patreon.

It all started in what was supposed to be a one week stay in Cape Town. I don't know what the airline had smoked, but a round trip from Europe sold for almost nothing during a few hours. Probably some clerical error in the pricing department. Whatever the reason, I shuffled some tasks around and manage to arrange myself a one week spring vacation. I had no idea of what to expect. Only thing I knew about South Africa was the Kruger Park, the worlds first heart transplant, excellent red wines, Apartheid and Mandela.

It started out amazing. I found a cheap place in Green Point, close to lots of the tourist places, and started to drink my way through South African wine bottles. It was on the third evening I made the wrong move. No, life altering move.

I was heading back to the hotel after some late evening sea side action. I had emptied a particularly good bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, rich with those mineral tones so prevalent in most South African wines. I was slightly sun burned, possibly lost and decidedly round footed when I walked up to two well dressed white men beating the shit out of black kid.

- Hey, stop that!

I said before my brain had fully reengaged. They did stop. One of the men stared right at me, eyes filled with disdain.

- What you say?

I didn't have time to answer him when something hard hit the back of my head with a thud and everything lost focus and disappeared.

When I came to everything was black and my head hurt like hell. I was lying awkwardly, hands bound behind my back, feet tied together, and some sort of bag tied around my head. The sound made me think I was in someones trunk, but I guess it could have been a van or a covered pick up flat bed just as well. In any event, the vehicle was running fast on what I assumed to be a highway. After a bit of struggle I concluded that I was not just bound up, but also tied down and couldn't move much at all. After a boring hour or so still drunk me slipped back into sleep.

Next time I woke up the vehicle was standing still. I was still as tied up as before, but I could hear someone speaking Afrikaan a few steps away. He came close, shuffled some things around, and then I felt a small prick on my arm. I barely had time to realize it was some sort of injection when I lost consciousness again.

Regaining consciousness was quite different third time around. I still couldn't see anything, but I could feel some swim style goggles around my head, probably blacked out. Now I was lying more properly on a firm bed or padded table. I tried to move, but like before I was tightly restrained. This time it felt more professional, like cuffs around arms and legs, and some kind of material pushing against the chest. And I was naked, I think. It was hard to determine, as the temperature was nice and I couldn't move, but I couldn't feel any clothes on my body. I tried to say "hello", but nothing came out.

This quickly became incredibly boring. I couldn't see or feel much. The smell was basically just some generic clean smell of faint detergent. With sounds there were a bit more variation. I could hear some HVAC rumbling once every 5 minutes, or so I guessed. In addition there was a constant low humming in the room. I could hear some faint sounds from outside the room. Perhaps infrequent cars coming and leaving outside the building.

By my estimate I was at least into the third wake hour when suddenly a door opened and I could hear a conversation between the two men who entered the room. They sounded quite far away, so the room was probably large.

"...so many in the database?"

"We use five key measurements combined into one value as sorting key. The circumference and length, both on flaccid and erect, are approximated into two cylinders. Balls are approximated as spheres. Then we just multiply the three volumes together to make the sorting key. First selection priority is of course bio-compatibility, but this size metric allows for fast selection within that set. It only brings candidates though. The final decision is more complex, of course."

"Complex how?"

"Well, let's ask the doctor himself. His coming here."

A third person entered the room.

"You talking about me?"

"Yes, we were just discussing the selection criteria"

"Ah. Well, since this is a demonstration we want to be bold, while being mindful of proportions and aesthetics. In addition to appearance we want to maximize as many of the secondary factors as possible from the paper. For this one we landed in using the Congo supply."

They were standing right next to me now. The "doctor" continued.

"So this is the subject. The first agent is being administered right now, as you can see. Any questions?"

I tried to say something. Anything. But only wheezing air came out.

"Is he trying to speak?", asked the first voice.

"No, he isn't. Come, let's look at the model", replied the doctor, and they left the room as quickly as they entered it.

6-8 HVAC cycles later I heard the door open again and several people walking into the room. I heard a women's voice close to me saying "Everything is green. Go ahead." and I again lost consciousness.

The room was barely furnished, completely white and bathed in light when I opened my eyes.

"Oh, how good. You are awake."

I heard a female voice in a strong South African accent. I turned my head and saw a fat, black South African lady smiling at me. I was super confused. I was in a hospital bed, but this didn't really look like a hospital, and she didn't look like a nurse.

"Wheh...", was as far as I managed on "Where am I" before my voice gave out.

"You need to drink a lot. Here, let me help", said the lady and gave me something that looked like a hospital version of a gym bottle. As I drank she continued.

"You had a traffic accident. Nothing serious. Just a concussion, so you were dismissed from the hospital to make room. This is a recovery home."

I was gulping water. Man, was I was thirsty. "Where are we?" I asked.

"Just outside the city, so still close to Johannesburg."

That's like at least 10 hours away from Cape Town. What the fuck had happened?

"What day is it?"

"It's Thursday today, dear. I'll go and get something for you to eat", the fat lady answered, and started to move towards the door.

Something just didn't feel right. It was Wednesday evening when I was kidnapped. "No, what date?"

"Thursday the 28th", she said from the door.

A whole fucking week.

I felt a sucking black hole in my gut. The lady seemed nice, but there was no way I would trust her right now. Perhaps she believed everything she had just told me, but clearly some things were not true. My head felt fine, as opposed to the last time I was conscious, but what about the rest? I didn't feel any restraints, just my body in a hospital gown, under some white sheets. In fact, nothing hurt anywhere. Just thirsty, still, hungry and a need to piss.

I could see a different door in another wall than the nurse had just left through. Presumably a private toilet for this small recovery room. A pair of slippers stood next to the bed, so I threw off the blankets began to sit up and swing out my legs. That's when I first felt it. It was weird feeling, familiar, but yet very different.

I quickly kicked my feet into the slippers and carefully, still a bit woozy, shuffled into the bath room. It was surprisingly roomy. Well, perhaps not surprisingly, given the number of people with casts, wheelchairs and whatnot passing through. But it had plenty of room around the toilet seat and sink, and a full length mirror next to the sink, presumably for wheel chair bound people.

I raised the gown from my knees to expose my front, and just stared for a several seconds to fully understand what I saw. My dick and balls were gone. In its place was the largest, most aggressively male genitalia I had ever seen, even in pictures. The massive dick went almost down to my knees, and thick as a can of red bull. And even though it was completely flaccid it was veiny as cabbage and the outlines of a massive head was clearly visible through the uncut foreskin.

Behind the dick were two softball sized testicles hanging low, but unevenly so. It was all topped off with a large bush of coarse hair. And all of it, the hair, the balls and the dong, where dark chocolate black.

I just stared in disbelief. Then tentatively I touched the penis. Yep, it was real and it was now apparently mine. Standing straight my hands couldn't even reach halfway down to the tip. My mind caught up with reality and was filling with questions. Who did this? Why did they do this? How did they do this? Isn't there organ rejection? Aren't you supposed to eat some sort of pills forever after receiving a transplant? Are there even any pants I can wear anymore? Did baller shorts just become underwear?

I went to the toilet and emptied my bladder. It worked fine. Better than fine even, as aiming just became a lot easier with such a hose, although using paper involved lifting. Lifting! I could feel that it was much more sensitive than what I was used to, and felt it starting to come alive. I quickly dropped it and went back to bed. Just as I did lunch arrived.

Once fed, and having checked with the care taker, Amahle, that she wouldn't be back for two hours, I decided to try out my new dong. Tissues were already on the side table. I sat up in bed, kicked off the sheet and had another look under the gown. I was again taken aback with the sight. It wan't just massive, but somehow everything, length, girth, balls, looked to be in proportion. I must admit that I haven't spent much time thinking about, looking at or describing cocks, but the first words that came to mind were aggressive, intimidating and virile. The black skin made it even more so, as the light from the window created contrasting highlights on the veins.

Carefully I looked at the border, where the black skin met my pasty, white body. Rather than a sharp line, as I had expected, there was a narrow gradient where one color blended over to the other. How on earth was this done? It looked like perhaps a decades old surgery where the scar had long since gone soft.

I resumed where we left off in the bathroom, slowly stroking it. It reacted right away, and apparently was a grower as well as a shower. Holy fuck was it massive. I just lied in bed and over perhaps 20 minutes had the best wank in my life. I have no idea whose dick I was giving a handjob, but this was clearly his loss and my gain. It was filled to the brim with nerve endings, making every stroke amazing. Or perhaps it was designed and grown in a lab somewhere? In that case, props to the cocksmith.

The head was leaking precum like crazy, sending small droplets of man lube for every noisy slosh of foreskin riding up and down the head. I was probably suffering from some sort of auto-erotic asphyxiation with so much blood displaced, but I managed to be amazed over how long I lasted, in the fog of pleasure.

When I finally couldn't keep it contained anymore, I erupted in rope after rope of cum going everywhere. On my chest, in my face, and some overshooting me all together. As I was catching my breath, sweaty and sticky, I was thinking about what to tell Amahle. Or if I should get up and do some attempts to clean up the mess first. I realized I had plenty of problems ahead of me. Cleaning up, getting home, ever wearing pants again, figuring out how to use toilets. But at least there and then I could not care less.

[thegayhimbo]

True Blood Season 1 Review Part 1 (Spoilers Ahead)

It’s been about 2 years since I first saw season 1. Contrary to the hundreds of GIFs and posts that I’ve reblogged about True Blood, I’m a lot more familiar with the later seasons of the show than I am with the first season. When I first viewed season 1, it didn’t click with me, and the only reason I sat through it is because I had seen clips from season 2 that convinced me the show was worth watching. I’m not someone who usually gets into the vampire genre (aside for a brief period of time when I was in middle school), but something about True Blood hooked me in and got me to watch it. I can’t say that it’s a show I completely love, but I am inspired to talk about it.

In any case, I’m doing a rewatch for the first time as a way of getting closure on this show, and maybe moving on so that it isn’t in the back of my head all the time. I also wanted to view the show with fresh eyes, and see if my opinions changed while watching it.

This review will be split into 2 parts because I’m realizing that I have a lot to say about season 1, and it’s gonna get lengthy. Part 1 will just focus on my general opinion about the season. Part 2 (which will be posted a few days from now) will focus on my thoughts about how the vampires ar portrayed on the show.

Overall, my opinion about season 1 improved a little bit during rewatch. It’s not my favorite season of television (and Lord knows there are issues with it), but it’s a lot better than I remember it being. The casting is stellar, and I didn’t have any problems with the actors or how they played their characters. The interactions between the characters kept me engaged even when the main story started to drag (more on that in a minute).

While re-watching season 1, I was surprised to pick up on some subtle aspects that had been planted by the writers in season 1 that I missed the first time around, and that would come into play in the later seasons. For instance:

Sookie mentioning that her cousin Hadley had been missing for over a year since she ran away from the rehab center that Gran paid for, and that she didn’t know how to get hold of her (all of which makes sense come season 2).

The appearance of Theodore Newlin (Steve Newlin’s father), his subsequent death in the 3rd episode, and Steve Newlin taking the reigns of the Fellowship of the Sun

Bill warning Malcom, Liam, and Diane that he knew of “higher authorities” than Eric, and Diane saying “Well she can suck on sunlight for all I care” (All references to Queen Sophie Anne).

Diane mentioning that Bill “used to be fun” and that he had a very “sizable appetite.” Also, the reference to Bill having a sexual relationship with Diane in the 1930s (which is around the time he left Lorena). 

Jason telling Amy about how his parents died, and how he felt responsible for it (the death of their parents becomes a major plot point later on).

There’s a lot to be said about the way the later seasons handled its arcs, but I think the writers were planting seeds in season 1 for future stories and twists that would be revealed down the road. Some of them were capitalized on. Others weren’t. 

I will say for the record that I firmly believe the twist about Bill that gets revealed in season 3 was planned by Alan Ball and the other writers from the beginning of the show, and it does color the way I view Bill’s character and his relationship with Sookie, even in season 1. I should also point out that one particular aspect of the season 3 twist came directly from the books (and those who have read them know what I’m talking about here), so there’s that. Again, I’ll go more into detail about the Bill/Sookie relationship and my thoughts on it as I go through this rewatch.

In regards to the main story about a serial killer coming to Bon Temps and Sookie trying to figure out who it is, I will admit that not only did I NOT find this story engaging anymore, I thought it DRAGGED and should have been resolved within 6-7 episodes as opposed to 12. It’s a lot less thrilling when you already know who the killer is, and while there are some nice clues and red herrings that get dropped, the constant attempts at misdirection (like that scene when Sam goes over to Dawn’s house and sniffs her sheets, or Jason consistently being framed for murder) feels time-consuming instead of fun. It doesn’t help that the story loses momentum halfway through the season, and gets bogged down by all these other subplots that don’t connect to it at all. 

Also, I didn’t pick up on this the first time, but rewatching has helped me realize there are some irritating plot holes with the story I couldn’t overlook. For instance:

In one scene, Sam goes to Dawn's house to sniff around and pick up Rene's scent. Later on, he’s at Gran’s house after Gran died where he also should have identified that same scent since Rene climbed through the window. And considering that Rene spent a huge amount of time at Merlotte's and interacted with Sam on many occasions, Sam should have been easily able to associate Rene's scent with the scents he found at the crime scene, and figured out early on that Rene was the killer. So why does it take him so long to connect two and two when Sam already knows what Rene smells like?

Likewise, it's been established that vampires have a good sense of smell. Bill was around Rene in several scenes, and should have been able to pick up his scent at Gran's house after she was murdered. So how come this doesn't happen?

On top of that, when Bill gets interrogated by Andy and Bud about Gran's murder, he claims that he heard a car (most likely Rene's) pulling up across the cemetery to Gran's house. He also claims that vampires had heightened senses. However, when Sookie finally reads Rene's mind in the season finale, it's shown that Gran screams and Rene shouts at her before killing her. So if Bill could hear Rene driving up to Gran's house.................then how come he didn't hear Rene and Gran shouting at one another before Gran got killed?

For that matter, why did Rene go over to Gran’s house in the first place? He knew that Sookie was going on a date with Sam. He saw them leave the church together, and he had no idea when Sookie was going to be back. It came off like really poor planning on his part for someone who’s been methodical about how he killed people up to this point.

Also, why didn’t Rene throw away the video he took from Maudette’s house, as well as the tape on bulding a Cajun accent? That seems incredibly stupid leaving that stuff around from someone (like Arlene’s kids) to find, especially since he no longer had use for that stuff.

There’s also the way Sookie’s mind reading abilities work. I thought the way that was handled was not only inconsistent, but that it also didn’t make sense how she didn’t pick up on Rene being the killer in the first place. Everything about that screamed “plot convenience.”

The other thing I noticed is that a lot of the problems that fans complain about in the later seasons (added side-plots, deviating from the books, added supernatural creatures, plot holes, inconsistent mythology, characters making stupid decisions, the focus on vampire politics, the problems with the Bill/Sookie relationship, etc) can all be traced back to season 1. To give a few examples:

There were a BUNCH of side-plots in season 1, from the Jason/Eddie/Amy arc to Tara’s exorcism and her conflicting relationship with Lettie Mae to Lafayette’s hook-up with the closeted gay senator to Sam’s backstory to Bill’s trial and so on. I didn’t have an issue with this because I get the idea was to do world-building and show different sides to the characters (if anything, I found the side-plots more interesting than the main story), but I always find it odd that one of the biggest complaints about the later seasons was the added side-plots and how people couldn’t follow them. Frankly, I thought they were pretty easy to follow, and could even be engaging at times.

Even in season 1, the show introduced other supernatural creatures besides vampires. Sam was revealed as a shapeshifter, Maryann was introduced as this unknown entity (and would later be revealed to be a Maenad), Sam mentioned the existence of werewolves to Sookie, and even Sookie was implied to be a supernatural herself because of her ability to read minds. Add in the fact that the books had a plethora of other supernatural creatures (werepanthers, faeries, demons, witches, etc) that were bound to be introduced, and I think it’s pretty fair to say that this show wasn’t always going to stay “grounded in realism” like some people complain it should have been.

Vampire politics was always there from the beginning: The show was NOT subtle about its “vampires as a metaphor for oppressed minorities” message that it kept shoving out there (and again, I will talk more about that in my part 2 review because there’s a lot to be said about they way vampires are portrayed on this show). Characters like Nan Flannigan and Steve Newlin were introduced in season 1 (albeit regulated to TV) as well as organizations like the American Vampire League (AVL) and the Fellowship of the Sun (FOTS). There was already a conflict within the vampire community between vampires who mainstreamed and vampires who wanted to keep killing humans like they’d done in the past. Bill’s trial gave an extremely ugly look into how vampires dispensed justice among their own kind. And there were constant references to the VRA (Vampire Rights Amendment). This show was pretty clear from the beginning that the driving force behind this story was about whether or not vampires could integrate into human society and co-exist peacefully with humans.

Also, in addition to the added side-plots, we also had the expansion of characters like Lafayette (whose character was completely different from the books) and the introduction of Jessica (who wasn’t in the books at all). Basically, this show was already beginning to deviate from the books even before the later seasons happened. 

The way V works in this universe is all over the place. For some people (like Jason and Amy) it acts like an LSD drug, whereas with Sookie, it just gives her heightened senses and dreams about Bill. Lafayette does briefly tell Jason that V has different effects depending on the individual, so maybe this really isn’t a plot-hole. However, at the same time, it just feels like V was whatever the writers wanted it to be. In other words, inconsistent mythology was already a thing in season 1. 

As for characters doing stupid stuff, this came as a surprise to me as well, but it isn’t just limited to Jason. Some examples include:

Tara deciding to drive drunk down the road in the middle of the night while downing a bottle of Vodka (and later getting arrested for it).

Sam sleeping on the same bed as Sookie in dog form, even though he knew (or should have known) that he could transform back into human form while sleeping, and Sookie would see him naked (which is exactly what happens).

Lafayette deciding it’s a good idea to sell Jason V instead of just giving Jason the Viagra he requested in the first place.

Bill letting Diane, Malcom, and Liam into his house when he knew Sookie was coming over to give him the numbers for the electrician. Also it was pretty stupid of him to not consider how Diane, Liam, and Malcom would react to seeing Sookie, or whether or not Sookie would be scared off by the way those three were acting.

Bill deciding it’s a good idea to mouth-off to The Magister about mainstreaming when a.) It is painfully obvious that the Magister doesn’t care about seeing humans as equals, and b.) Bill stands the risk of angering the Magister and making his situation worse than it already is.

Andy’s insistence that Jason is good for the murders without considering all of the evidence, and his refusal to admit he’s wrong. That, and he sucks as a cop.

Sookie using the gun to attack Rene, run out of the house................and then throw the gun into the bushes instead of keeping it as a weapon to defend herself.

Bill choosing not to erase the bite marks on Sookie, which could have made her a target for other people who hated fangbangers (although it’s debatable whether or not this was stupidity on Bill’s part or if this was done intentionally). 

And I’m sure there are plenty of other examples, but my point is that Jason isn’t the only one making stupid decisions here. Again, YMMV on whether or not a character’s stupidity makes sense in the context of the story, or if it just screams “plot convenience,” but it was there. It seems like Jason gets made the scapegoat by fans for everything that was wrong with the first season whereas the problems with other characters/stories get ignored because of inherent biases in the fandom.

I know it sounds like I’m ragging on this season, and I guess in some ways I am because I’ve long been tired of the constant bashing of the later seasons, as well as the excessive hate that gets directed at some of my favorite characters (Jason and Tara) while everyone consistently ignores the other problems with characters and stories that existed as far back as season 1. I am being genuine when I say that season 1 had its moments (the Tara and Lafayette moments were probably the highlights of that season) and it was better than I remember it, but it’s not a favorite of mine. I don’t really see myself going back to rewatch season 1 as often as the other season. And if it had been the only season of True Blood they made, I probably never would have watched it again. Like I said, something about season 1 just didn’t work for me, and I think a lot of that has to do with the show placing more emphasis on the character’s flaws over their redeeming qualities. It was season 2 rectified this and helped to soften the characters in a way where I cared about them. 

Stay tuned for Part 2 where I’ll give my opinions on how I think the show handled vampires. 

[ahnsael]

Two years later, the last physical remnant of the trouble I got into is going away tomorrow.

The DMV removed the restriction from my license today (it was a three hour wait, which I didn’t expect going in the middle of the week at opening time, but I’m glad I got it done -- I could have done it a month ago but was nervous about the process of getting these last loose ends tied), and after a couple games of phone tag between the manufacturer of the device and the auto shop which services it to finalize approval on both of their ends, tomorrow I get the ignition interlock removed from my car.

Now there’s just the SR-22 insurance for two more years before I can go back to regular insurance (but the SR-22 isn’t much more expensive than the regular version anyway).

We have a guy at work who’s mind isn’t in it lately. Because he just his FOURTH DUI. His third was a legal battle (three in seven years becomes a felony and involves prison time and there was a question as to whether it was from the occurrence of the first one or the sentencing and the court gave him the benefit of the doubt but then he did it AGAIN two months later). I don’t see how you don’t learn your lesson after the first one. And even if not then, the punishment is more severe for subsequent instances. So he’s looking at a lengthy prison sentence this time.

I got 48 hours. Well, technically 62 days, but 60 days were suspended pending my completion of other court-ordered responsibilities like both group and individual counseling, DUI school, a victim’s impact panel (in which victims of crashes caused by drunk drivers told their stories -- including some VERY graphic images), being under the watch of “alternative sentencing” for a year (basically that meant zero drinking, random tests to see whether I had had anything to drink, home visits to see if I had any alcohol around, all of which punishable by either a day in jail or kicking in the entire 60-day suspended sentence), having an interlock installed in ANY car I might drive for a year after reinstating my license (I only drive my own so I only needed the one, at $67 per month which from what I’m told is a pretty good price; I’ll have to pay “$50-$60 or somewhere around there, I’m not entirely sure” tomorrow when I get it removed but it SUCKS for people with no credit/debit card because it’s literally the ONLY way you’re allowed to pay, keeping low-income people without a card from being able to fulfill that obligation and that order does NOT expire a year from sentencing, it expires one year FROM WHEN YOU REINSTATE YOUR LICENSE and you can’t reinstate your license until you have the device installed -- I had to show the DMV the installation paperwork last year), and SR-22 insurance (including Statement of financial Responsibility -- that’s the SR part) for three years.

At one point as I talked to the (actually very nice) DMV lady today she asked whether I still had the device installed or whether it had already been removed. She framed it as a way to say “Show them this temporary license which shows no restriction and they’ll be able to remove it” but I’m guessing it was a “gotcha” question, as removing it before having the restriction removed from my license would have violated the restriction of my license. But I bet they get people saying “My year was up last week so I had it removed,” therefore getting themselves in more trouble (I was actually half-expecting them to want to see it in my car, maybe punch some buttons and get my latest statistics as far as “has he had any violations since the last time he had it serviced and we were sent his data?” but that didn’t happen...I also had the original installation paperwork and the original court order in my jacket pocket just in case, since I had to show both when I reinstated my license, even though they scanned them at the time -- when I first reinstated my license they forgot the restriction so I had to go back and have them put it on). I’m also wondering whether the three-hour wait was intentional, since most people are there for renewals or new licenses or to change their address or register a vehicle, and those of us in the “C” group broke the law, which was why we were there. Kind of makes me feel like they were testing our patience to see if we gave them attitude about seeing SO MANY people who got there after us called first. But I was as nice to the DMV lady as I would have been had I waited 10 minutes, and by the end the lady next to her behind the counter was complimenting my Genie tie (Genie from Aladdin -- I went there straight from work this morning so I was still dressed up from work).

An interesting aside...I shave my head, but have a beard. I asked the lady, pointing to the gray under my chin, “At what point to I change my official hair color to gray?” (the color listed on the original police report). She said it was basically up to me, and that I could even put “bald” if I wanted to since I shave my head, but sometimes the hair grows out a bit between shavings and I want to make sure I’m in compliance. But I pointed to my eyebrows as evidence of the “brown” that I put down, and she accepted that. She said switching to “gray” is pretty much up to me as long as SOME of the original color remains, but then we shared a laugh about people with completely gray hair who put down “black” as their hair color (that was when I pointed out my non-graying eyebrows as evidence that while I do have some gray in there, it still is mostly brown).

She also laughed when I said the only “stat” that had changed in the past 13 months since reinstating my license was my weight, which I upped by 15 pounds for honesty’s sake. She said she NEVER would have done that, but then I said that I used to be about 35 pounds more than I am now, so I’m pretty good with where I’m at and would rather be accurate on a REAL ID-compliant license -- even though weight fluctuates, the weight I put is my average these days.

And after I got a little worried about phone battery after playing cell phone games for an hour, I then spent the next two hours *almost* finishing Rolly Crump’s book “It’s Kind of a Cute Story,” which I hadn’t picked up in so long that the Kindle app had updated and completely forgotten where I had left off (I only realized that I read two chapters that I had already read when I came upon a section that I had highlighted). I’m about halfway through the last chapter now. The Kindle app takes a LOT less battery than playing a game that has to communicate with the internet (especially since the DMV’s WiFi was worse than Disneyland’s as far as reliability, which is kind of saying a lot).

But anyway, other than the (only slightly) higher insurance bill for the next two years, all of this kerfuffle will be behind me tomorrow. No more breathing into my car before I can start it. No more worrying that “I bartended this morning, and I spilled some on my pants...will the interlock pick that up and fail me? (it happened a couple times, as did using an alcohol-based window de-icer this winter and then having the fumes from the can in the car when I tried to start it; I learned to leave the can outside the car after using it, but there are “rolling tests” where they are trying to see if you drank after starting the car and have six minutes to provide a passing same of breath and so I would have to pull over, remove the can, and then re-take the test to make sure I didn’t get COMPLETELY locked out -- I did have violations based on this, but found out a week ago when I emailed the DMV that it takes four consecutive months of such violations for the terms of the interlock to be extended, even if I had to air out my car before I could successfully start my car at the time).

After those violations, I was worried my time was going to be extended, so I was SO happy to receive a reply from the DMV last week telling me that they had looked at my records, and I was good to get the restriction removed. I had thought ANY violation would result in “more time with this thing in my car.”

And on the WAY to the DMV...I ran into a problem I’ve run into a couple times in the past couple months.

Ever since getting the interlock serviced in December, I’ve had issues with it rebooting itself.

Now, if you turn off the car with a pending test, that’s another violation. And the thing would tell me to breathe into it (it’s actually more throat-humming with this device -- it prevents someone taking a lungful of fresh air and then breathing in to beat it; humming in your throat means air from INSIDE of you is going through and it can detect alcohol you maybe thought you could hide).

So there have been times I’ve driven to work, parked, and just before turning off my car the interlock would ask for a “rolling test.” I couldn’t just turn my car off. That would be a violation, which the DMV would hear about. But if I picked the device up and it went blank as I blew into it, then said “Initializing,” I learned NOT to turn the car off (the hard way, when I got a violation for it). Just sit there in the parking spot, engine running, and wait for it to ask for a test again.

On my way to the DMV today, though, the device wanted a “rolling test.” Which I expected. The first “rolling test” can be 5-10 minutes after starting the car, and subsequent tests come every 45 minutes to an hour (and you have six minutes to provide a breath sample before you are locked out). When I drove to Disneyland in September, I can’t even guess as to how many tests I had to take as I drove, to make sure I was still sober.

But today, it asked me to re-test. I did. I heard the tell-tale “click” by my left knee that tells me it just sent a signal to the car that it’s okay to restart if I shut it down. But instead of “PASS” on the screen, the screen was blank. Then it said “initializing.” Then it asked me to test again with a beep. I did so. This time, it not only made the click on my ignition switch to turn it on, but said “PASS” -- fir about a half-second before going back to “INITIALIZING.”

When it came back up, I only had two minutes and 30 seconds left to provide a sample. I thought, “If this thing keeps resetting itself, I’m going to get a violation on the way to the DMV for permission to remove this.”

Fortunately, on the third try, the test was passed WITHOUT the device restarting itself (I am SO glad to get rid of this thing because it’s been doing this a lot for the past two months and while I’m passing the tests, it doesn’t always KNOW that I pass the tests before rebooting itself).

But at 10:00am tomorrow, I get this thing OUT of my car. If it’s anything like the installation, I’ll be there for about an hour. Which will still beat my wait time at the DMV today. I’ll probably finish Rolly Crump’s book and then either play some video games on my phone or start something new to read, like the continuations of the book which I’ve already bought.

But video games are more likely -- this shop, as I’ve seen personally and heard from other customers, does not only good work, but QUICK work, so I don’t want to get too into reading and then be disappointed when they have it done.

[love-takes-work]

I shouldn’t argue with people on Reddit

My clown encounter

I was talking to someone about the Camp Pining Hearts graphic novel on Reddit, and among other things, I made a joking comment about how Mr. Frowney appearing in the audience of the Camp Pining Play to watch Mr. Smiley perform might mean they’re married now. Someone in the comments had this to say to me:

Reddit clown: 

That would imply that anyone on SU cares about developing characters.

Follow the jump if you would like some bloviating about how this show fails at complex relationships, a funny conspiracy theory about how fan response directly controls which characters appear and what plots the Crew writes, and a smug conclusion that No One Can Answer This Deep Question and Therefore SU Is A Bad Show.

Reddit clown:

It’s clear that the author is trying to prop up their ship by purposefully making Amedot out to be unhealthy and problematic, even if it means derailing established personality and history. It’s pretty childish really.

“Does that imply what I think it does about Mr. Frowney and Mr. Smiley? Hey, maybe they’re married now. :)”

That would imply that anyone on SU cares about developing characters.

I addressed part of the Amedot comment and also said this:

Me:

Re character development: This graphic novel was not written by anyone who writes for the show. There's not really any constructive conversation I can have from here if your position really is "no one on SU cares about developing characters," though. This just seems like such an unnecessarily negative "lol this show sucks, edgier-than-u" comment that I don't know where it can go from here and I'm not planning to follow wherever you're trying to take this.

Reddit clown:

Well in general, the show doesn’t have a good track record for character dynamics

[link to a blog post on Tumblr which is literally a one-sentence repetition of what they just said about bad group dynamics]

And given that Frowney only appeared once, sadly there’s zero chance of him and Smiley ever getting back together. Same with Mystery Girl and Pearl.

lol ok

people who have only shown up once obviously won’t ever show again

no source needed on having a good track record, we’ll just believe it’s obvious if you can find an example of someone saying this on a Tumblr blog somewhere agreeing with your assessment

Me:

I have no personal stake in whether a rare character appears again--I'm not yearning for either of those people to return--but it's straight-up weird to say someone will never show up again because they only showed up once.

Then again, I remember how confident people were that Bismuth would never return (and how consistently they coupled their absolute certainty with sneering comments about how the voice actor was surely too expensive), so I guess it's not too surprising to me that some folks still think certain characters are guaranteed to never return. Bottom line is you never know when the throwaway mailman character in episode 3 will turn out to be a regularly returning character starting in episode 56. It just doesn't make sense to pretend such things are obvious. You do not know.

As for the continued weirdness of claiming that this group of characters has no character dynamics to speak of, I mean, it's literally one of the things I've appreciated the most all along about the show, and . . . I don't have to exaggerate or read into what I see to find it, nor am I confused about whether it's actually there. I again have no personal stake in whether you feel that way. It just strikes me as a bizarro world kind of comment. You're having a VERY different experience of this show from the one I've had.

Reddit clown:

That’s different. Bismuth was brought back thanks to fan demand. Meanwhile, these are specifically one off characters, especially considering the show’s halfway over. Not everyone can rise above a one shot character.

And can you name any notable character dynamics not attached to Steven? Compare that to say Adventure Time which had great character dynamics.

Oh god

“”””Bismuth was brought back because of fan demand””””

““““Can you name any notable character dynamics”“““

Dear lord what show is this cheese log of a person watching?

Me: 

It's really weird that you think Bismuth was brought back because fans "demanded" it. You don't know how the show works at all. 

And "then name character dynamics not attached to Steven" is a bizarre request. If you truly did not see the literal thousands of years of history between characters that enhanced who they are and how they act long before Steven was there, me trotting them out isn't going to help you believe it's there. Steven being the strict point of view character creates a situation that Adventure Time doesn't have, so it's weird to expect the show to diverge significantly from the lens it's designed to be viewed through, but believing you've presented a gotcha here is basically admitting you haven't noticed any of the relationships between the characters that Steven actually spent a ton of time discovering--whole episodes were even dedicated to relationships between characters who aren't Steven or aren't relating to Steven when they're revealing such things. It's not even subtext.

Reddit clown:

Well after fan backlash from the episodes Bismuth, they basically had no choice but to bring her back. And given how expensive the VA is, it hurt their budget. And really, what relationships? The whole thing revolves around Steven. The Gems are Steven’s moms, Connie is Steven’s love interest, the town is Steven’s friends. The only interesting dynamic is Lars hating Steven and even then he joined the Steven cult. Look how wasted Lapis and Peridot became when they escaped Steven’s clutches.

Oh 

Oh this person is one of those

““““the steven cult”“““

The objectively only interesting thing is when someone hates someone

Cartoon Network’s budget was exploded by hiring a voice actor oh god

Me:

Wow. Your obliviousness and misplaced confidence is baffling, but . . . to be honest I feel like I'm watching someone who doesn't understand they're embarrassing themselves, and it's getting uncomfortable.

I know that you don't know what's going on behind the scenes of this show, but it is really bizarre sometimes that fans believe their behavior and their outrage is changing the writing or influencing what characters they use.

You really think fans raging about things is an actual "demand" they respond to. That they "had to" bring back Bismuth because of something FANS DID. Yikes. But I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that people are still saying things like this. Some people still think the writers stole plot elements from fan theories. I don't know why some people in fandoms think they're that important or relevant. The show is not being controlled by our responses in any way. If "fan backlash" worked to bring characters back, there are many others who would have returned long ago. 

And isn't that lovely, you've got a little conspiracy theory about how paying the scads of money you imagine are required for Bismuth's voice actor have "hurt the budget" (oblivious to how many voice actors on this show have done more episodes despite being more famous/having higher net worth). You clearly have zero clue about how any of this works, and you shouldn't keep pretending you have knowledge about it, especially not while talking to people who do.

As for relationships, you're not really asking me. Like I said, if I wasted my time trotting out descriptions of relationship dynamics that you should have seen for yourself if you watched the show, there's no way that would convince you they were worthwhile, well-developed relationships if the show itself didn't. I see complex and multifaceted relationships, growth, change, conflict, and resolution, in so many relationships, like Greg and Rose figuring out what love is to them, Ruby and Sapphire growing into a healthier version of who they are together, Pearl learning to think independently of serving Rose even as she struggles with her nature, the long history of Pearl with Garnet, Amethyst with Pearl, even Greg with Amethyst (all things Steven has to discover and understand only partially as the show goes on) . . . but if you truly believe characters in this show who existed before Steven appeared 14 years ago have shown no evidence of having layered relationship dynamics that do not focus on him or depend on him, I don't know what show you're watching and I can't help you.

I don't know why you're even here since just about every bit of content you've posted here is "the thing you like sucks" and completely unsupported comments about why, sourced in nothing. It's just like . . . not even an argument, it's just a weird demonstration that you don't get what's going on so you've concluded nothing is. It's weird, and normally I've got no problem with criticism or spirited discussion, but these comments are just . . . they're empty. They're demonstrations of obliviousness or willful ignorance. It's just so, so weird to talk to someone who thinks they're laying down critical points but reads as so ignorant of what even happened in the source material or behind the scenes.

For the record, this person was going on in other threads about how Amedot is better than Lapidot “objectively” and partly because “it looks cuter,” saying the writing on the entire series is garbage, that “Steven as a character doesn’t make sense,” and that the show’s writers have no standards. Wow edgy.

Reddit clown:

I mean think about it; a famous celebrity gets more likes around the same the animation goes down hill?

And I would consider the following on the writers stealing fan content; keep in mind that Rose being Pink Diamond was a widely circulated fan theory and people were very stubborn about it. It could be that the crew felt like they needed to validate them. This lead to them to an unsatisfying and out of left field twist.

And I simply don’t see the powerful character interactions people brag about. What’s the character dynamics of the Gems? Again, the blog post I posted is the gotcha moment that no can answer.

I reiterate that the blog post referenced here is one sentence, and it says, “For a show that revolves around a group of characters, SU doesn’t have very interesting group dynamics writing (when they bother having them at all).” That is this person’s “gotcha.” That is this person’s “NO ONE CAN SATISFACTORILY ANSWER THIS” criticism.

omg I’m so confused and weirded out by this.

But

THINK ABOUT IT

A CELEBRITY “GOT LIKES” AND THEN THERE WAS A SPECIFIC TIME WHEN THE ANIMATION GOES DOWNHILL

It’s obviously because Cartoon Network was bankrupted in their ANIMATION BUDGET because they had to pay Uzo Aduba

And this was “”””forced”””” to happen by FAN BACKLASH

When we whine about wanting a character back we decimate the animation budget and make it go downhill guise

AND THIS PERSON ALSO ADMITS TO BELIEVING THE SHOW WENT IN A DIFFERENT “UNSATISFYING” DIRECTION THAN THEIR ORIGINAL INTENT BECAUSE THE CREW NEEDED TO VALIDATE STUBBORN FANS. AND THEY THOUGHT THE PINK DIAMOND REVEAL WAS “OUT OF LEFT FIELD.” YIIIIIIIIKES. 

I had to stop replying here (and should have much earlier) because like

wow, how can someone have NO ABILITY TO INTERPRET THE CONTENT OF A SHOW and then still be this smug about thinking they’ve got its mediocrity nailed? While also being so confident about thinking they know fans control the structure of the storytelling? Unnggggh 

[ryanmeft]

What Not To Do in Avengers: Endgame

There’s a lot of theories floating around about what might happen in Avengers: Endgame, the just trailer-ized sequel/part II thingy to Avengers: Infinity War, and the end of the line one way or another for a lot of MCU characters. Some of these theories are wishful thinking and some are a little out there, but few are talking about the biggest issue concerning this movie: it would be very, very easy to ruin it. The hype is huge at this point, and Marvel and the Russo brothers need to deliver a movie that feels like it has impact, even if it IS all grown adults in tights punching other grown adults in tights.

To wit, here’s what needs to NOT happen in Avengers: Endgame. Don’t... Return the “really” dead characters to life

At the end of Avengers: Infinity War, Thanos managed to accomplish his most cherished goal: figuring out which insurance provider really does offer the best choices for himself and his family. He was so happy about this that he was all eureka and snapped his fingers, and half the population of the universe died. This included most of the heroes in the MCU. A few people, however, died without being subjected to The Decimation (that’s what Marvel’s calling it, a fact we know because apparently two or three people actually read tie-in novels). Of those, Idris Elba’s Heimdall will certainly not be back; he’s become a big star since he took the role, and a scepter through the chest was his ticket out of a bit part he’s outgrown. Vision will probably return in some capacity; the planned Scarlet Witch mini-series would be kind of bland without him as her partner, and his death came near the end of the movie, anyway.

Loki and Gamora had a bit more dramatic exit. Loki was choked to death slowly in front of his brother Thor in a surprisingly gruesome scene, having just made a brave-but-poorly-thought-out attempt to assassinate Thanos. He’s got a mini-series coming, too, but it really needs to be set in the past: his death was the perfect ending for his popular character, who always made the cold and calculating decision but ultimately died due to an act of emotional anger for his people and brother. Tom Hiddleston’s been seen on set, either because Marvel is faking us out or because a younger version of him is seen via time travel, but to undo his perfect demise would irreversibly cheapen his character arc. A lot of people expected Loki to eat dirt in Infinity War, as he’d been taken about as far in his story as he could be. Gamora was another matter; pretty much nobody expected the death of the second-in-command of the Guardians of the Galaxy (she’s really the boss, of course, but it’s better to let a guy who calls himself Star-Lord have his fantasy). Even as she fell, we were all expecting a last-minute rescue. That it didn’t come shocked audiences, and should be left that way, especially considering her presence factored into the surprisingly emotional finale of IW.

Get too lazy with the time travel stuff…

Sure, the idea that the remaining Avengers will pull a McFly and go back in time to reverse the Decisnappation COULD just be what Marvel and the Russo bros want you to think is happening…but it seems likely it’s a factor. There’s no realistic way to fix what Thanos did, and time travel is the least bonkers unrealistic way, at least by movie logic. Now, pretty much everyone wants a cameo from Doc Brown. Right? No? That’s just me? But you could make a joke with Thor and the clock tower and the lightn…ok, moving on.

Maybe Chris Lloyd popping in is unlikely, but what is indisputable is time travel could really wreck the already sort-of-thin idea that we should care what becomes of these characters on a long-term basis. If Marvel isn’t kind of careful with the rules they set up, what’s to stop the characters from just bobbing around in time and undoing any serious failures? The extent to which the Avengers can toss time’s salad should be controlled within the narrative, so that they can’t just freely re-write the script.

…but don’t spend a ton of time on it, either

The time travel aspects should be both limited so as not to royally screw with the sense any of this matters, and not overly complicated. This will be the last appearance for Iron Man, Cap and probably Thor, Hulk and Robin Hood. While we don’t want their last bows to take a wheat thresher to the continuity, we also don’t want to get mired down in psuedo-science.

Give us a lame explanation for why Hulk is absent

I think it’s fair to say that Marvel has played incredibly loose in the way Bruce Banner’s relationship with his big green inner metaphor works. In Avengers he switched from the equivalent of a premature orgasm to total control when it was convenient to the plot, and “because the script says so” has pretty much dictated when Banner is and isn’t at the wheel ever since. I actually see this as one of the few really lazy weak spots in their characters: Hulk at his best has always been a metaphor for the monster inside, but the MCU has dropped the ball on that one in favor of more rah-rah moments.

In IW, you may recall the Hulk was turned into the equivalent of a stubborn turd, refusing to come out no matter how much Banner pushed. I speculated that it may be due to Hulk’s animal instincts telling him something about the situation Banner’s more controlled mind doesn’t know…but either way, there needs to be an explanation in Endgame, and it needs to be better than “because we said so”. There’s no indication of any more solo Hulk films or series, so this might be the last we see of the Jolly Green Giant. If Marvel were ever going to make his character halfway consistent, now’s the time.

Spend too much effort on the romances

By far, the most consistent example of “We don’t know where the hell we’re going with this” in the MCU has involved characters gettin’ it on. Thor’s Jane Foster got unceremoniously dropped because she was a very meh character and the person playing her realized she was Natalie Portman and had better things to do, while Valkyrie showed promise as a tougher lover for the Thunder God only to be written out of the movies off-screen. Hulk and Black Widow made enough sense but was poorly set up, came out of nowhere, and nothing was made of it in IW. Cap’s thing with Peggy Carter’s niece was forced and a little weird. And if you can tell me the name of Black Panther’s woman, you officially know more about this stuff than a guy who writes about it on the regular; she was so barely there they didn’t even bother to mention her in Avengers, and no one cared. Only Tony Stark and Pepper Potts have had anything like a relationship that makes sense, and they nearly dismissed that with an off-screen explanation, as well.

The next iteration of the MCU, with younger, fresher characters, should put more effort into developing lasting character relationships that aren’t bromances, and in fact could stand to give the female supporting characters a lot more development, in general. For now, though, they should write off the romantic histories of most of the old guard as a loss. I doubt anyone will notice.

Overemphasize Ant-Man and Captain Marvel

It’s always been clear, and the post-credits scene made it more so, that Captain Marvel, who will make her debut in her own movie in March, will be important in whatever plan is in place to stop Thanos. And the trailer for Endgame lets us know Ant-Man, or at least his access to the Deus Ex Machina that is the Quantum Realm, will also be vital. And both should be vital---to get the other heroes where they need to be. Although I like Anty Boy, he’s not the biggest name in Marvel, and Captain Brie Marvel Larsen is likely just starting her arc in the universe; there will be plenty of time for her later. This movie needs to focus on the last stands and swan songs of characters who have been with us almost since the beginning.

De-emphasize Hawkeye

If you’ve watched the trailer, by now you know Jeremy Renner’s Robin Hood (I think I made that joke already), who was totally absent from Infinity War, is back with a new, darker costume and what looks like a serious hate boner. In fact, he seems to have straight-up murdered the holy crap what is this out of a whole bunch of Yakuza goons in the middle of the street, which judging by Black Widow’s expression is either terrifying or shockingly arousing. For many, including myself, it was the most interesting reveal in the trailer, and the conclusion was immediately reached that his wife and children must have been Thanos-snapped. What else could cause the normally unflappable special forces dude to go goth and start shooting down people like dogs? He’s always been the most under-appreciated Avenger (check him in the first movie; he’s way more bad-ass than the others despite having no super-powers). This one needs to give him a proper send-off.

Avoid the consequences

Throughout this column, I’ve been emphasizing that the classic Avengers need to have a proper exit from the franchise. The most important aspect of that is to make sure that exit involves a heavy toll. They aren’t fighting for this city or even that planet, but for the whole of existence. Although most-if-not-all of their snapped friends will be returning, they need to pay the price to get that done; otherwise, this whole Thanos thing is basically a cartoon with no permanent consequences. This is completely essential to doing this movie right. Don’t chicken out, guys.

[gay-jesus-probably]

You have a lot of fans wondering what happened to you in fan fiction. Like me. My gay Jesus, where has our savior gone?

...bro....

Okay first things first: that is probably the nicest thing anyones ever said to me???? holy shit anon i love you.

Secondly... yeah theres not really an excuse here, i just... havent been feeling it. 

Not helped by the fact that I got a new laptop back in the spring, and while I transfered all my files over no problem, I was pirating microsoft word on my old computer, and my usual source of pirated materials (read: dad) gave me a file for it that my computer immediately read as a nasty virus and now refuses to ever interact with again, so. while i have everything, and can look at it whenever I want, i can’t interact with my files in any way shape or form. like, no edits, no additions, i can’t even fucking copy+paste. So I’m using google docs now, except with literally all of my WIPs, the outlining and new chapter files were not complete. So if I want to do any work on them, then it’ll have to be split between beginning on a Word doc, and then picking up on google docs partway through, which seems real fuckin inconvenient so it hasn’t happened yet.

My options are to either cough up and buy the microsoft package, which i dont have the money for, or to find a better pirate source, which is also not an option bcause dad is a giant drama queen and he flips shit and has a guilt trip meltdown if he thinks hes not being appreciated, so me informing him his pirated word didnt work several months after he gave it to me? will not go over well, so there is not a chance in hell i’m doing that. The only solution is to go on my old laptop where i CAN alter the files, and copy-paste them all into google docs, but like... hooooly shit. we’re talking a lot of content here. my outlines tend to get... lengthy, because they’re mostly me rambling to myself. and there’s a lot of WIP projects i’ve got. basically i COULD handle it, but i’m too lazy to actually do so lmao, especially since the whole process would take twice as long cause my old laptop has some case damage around the hinge, which is also by the power button, and means that if the screen moves at all there is a 75% chance it will turn off the laptop. and that gets real old real fast.

All that clusterfuck aside, if we’re talking specific projects, then the rough summary is under the readmore:

Displacement and Division: Haven’t been feeling it. Don’t think I’ve written any new content since I last updated, which was... aaa while ago. I promise, no matter how long it takes, I AM coming back to this one. It’s too far to walk now. It just... may take awhile. Doesn’t help that the outlines and a fair chunk of the next chapter for both fics are locked up in Word. Don’t obsessively check for updates, but hang in there. I’m coming back.

Hooked Into A Machine and Nobody’d Even Notice At All: Both were initially created due to the Great Gods of Hyperfixation causing me to lock into Be More Chill when i discovered it, quickly burn through the entire fandom, and start frantically producing my own content out of sheer frustration. When the hyperfixation wore off... i was able to enjoy non-BMC content again, and wandered off. Whenever I wander back in, updates will occur. ...Don’t hold your breath on these.

Ghost in the Machine: Mix of the two problems, as it was written in the middle of a hardcore Tron hyperfixation, and when I came down, I wandered away. Chapter 3 is about halfway done, only problem is that’s... all locked in Word. Yeah. There’ll probably be more whenever I come back to Tron. It ain’t dead yet.

Cold Flame/Lunam Ignis: Honestly, trying to write a full blown fic of this concept was probably stretching it a bit for me. I had ideas and scenes for Axelnort in DDD, and I wanted to use them, but I felt the need to build up to them first. That... was a mistake, because I didn’t really have anything for Days, and only a handful of stuff for KHII. Honestly, I’d safely call Lunam Ignis dead, I have 0 plans of coming back to that one.

Seemingly Simple Things: These were two blurbs written as a joke, that I probably should not have tried to continue. Don’t expect a chapter 3... well, ever. Apologies all, but I feel anything further would roll over from ‘funny’ to ‘forced’, and I’d rather not. It be like that sometimes.

I’m pretty sure that’s all of my WIPs? If any of these made you go ‘wait what the fuck when was that’, I’ve got an AO3 and an FF.net account, and tbh? my crossposting is not reliable. Some are on both, but a fair amount of fics have just been posted to one or the other. It be like that.

I know I’ve been dead since January (on FF.net) and April (on AO3), but you are going to have to wait a bit - we’re back into NaNo season, so fic is not high on the priority list at the current moment. Apologies, fam.

And now the good news! I AM still writing plenty! Just, none of its gotten to the point of being postable. I’ve had some less intense small fandom hyperfixation frustration fic bursts, so if anyone’s also into TribeTwelve, Stand Still Stay Silent, or Check Please!, then there may be some content going up from those - I’ve got multiple fics in progress for all of those that aren’t just self indulgent fuckery, and will be posted if I can work on them enough to make the plausible.

As for my WIP’s, as I said above, Ghost in the Machine DOES have a chapter 3 about halfway done, and a complete outline for part 1, so that finishing is looking very good whenever I get around to it.

With Displacement, while the next chapter doesn’t have much, the outlines done through to part 7, so I know exactly where we’re steering this trainwreck, and I’ve got a few rough drafts of key scenes in part 4 and 5. I’ve also started on interludes 4 and 5. For those curious, interlude 4 is several non-Evie clones in the 420th unknowingly re-enacting Die Hard, and Michelle’s hair dye saves the day while also causing some truly impressive property damage. The stains left by that incident are never coming out. Interlude 5 is less fun, and more character exploration - namely, the main characters and their thoughts on Michelle. After the events of Part 5, trust me - there’s going to be a LOT of conflict in that area. Especially from Obi-Wan.

As for Division, while I admit the outline is a lot more shaky, and there’s less actual work done, I DO know who the cast is and what I’m doing with them, and I’ve got some rough drafts of crucial scenes, even if I don’t know exactly where those scenes happen yet. It’s gonna be a ride, yall.

And the final, most important piece of good news: As I’m sure you’ve noticed, i am a bitch that really likes talking about their writing. Literally anyone can hit me up asking about anything of mine, and I will probs spam you with a small essay, such as I just did. Tbh, if someone actually did message me to talk about my writing, I give it like a few hours of chatting before I’m linking that someone to a relevant google doc, and/or explaining the entire plot. ...Provided they’re cool with the spoilers, mind you. I ask that first. So seriously - while updates may not be coming until december at the earliest, if you want something to tide you over, be it rough drafts or just paragraphs of information, hit me up. I am literally always down to enthusiastically rant about my writing lmao.

...That goes twice as hard for my original projects, fyi, if someone sent me a message asking about my NaNo project I’d probably cry with joy and tell them everything. it helps me Plot.

The other benefit to messaging me is that I have good cats who are very cute and loving, and I have a compulsive need to show Every Single Person i interact with pics of them, so that’s another inevitable to talking to me.

look at these good kids

[fandammit]

Loss like the sharp edges of a knife (8/9)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7

[A/N: Sometimes your OCs take you on a journey, and you just gotta follow along and see where it leads.]

His early morning run does bring him past Karen’s apartment.

It’s a dark, cloudy day with a weird, final cold snap of weather that has him wearing a sweater and his beanie for the first time in weeks.

Amidst the backdrop of the gray sky and gray pavement and sullen gray-toned brick is the pot of yellow daffodils, so bright it might as well act as a beacon to him from the down the street.

Sitting on the ledge of her window is his worn, battered copy of Moby Dick. He picks it up carefully and opens it, flips through the pages hesitatingly. He’s not quite sure what he’s expecting to find, not quite sure what might hurt him the most -- that there’s something within its pages that speaks to her lack of understanding of him, or that there’s nothing within it at all.

He breathes out a long sigh of relief when he sees that she’s written on nearly every page, forces himself to close the book with a sharp thwap because he can’t trust himself to stop once he gets started.

He runs back to the car with the book gripped closely to his chest, keeps it tucked up next to him as he drives back to him apartment. Some practical, logical part of him knows that it’s no more or less from Karen than any of her other gifts to him, but it’s overshadowed by that deeper, more sentimental part of him that believes Karen has in some way looked into his soul and at least not found it wanting.  

He opens the book up in the silence of his living room, his breath loud in his ears, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. A quick flip through reveals that she’s left nothing tangible in it; has instead chosen to leave pieces of herself as words on the pages -- answers to his questions, questions to his underlined passages, replies to his notes in the margins.

By now, he knows the story by heart, could simply read through Karen's margin notes and be done in a single afternoon.

But this gift is not a photo or a thing -- it is not a single moment, frozen in time, or a single object, static and unchanging. Instead, what he holds in his hands feels like something closer to a conversation, more intimate and real than the drawn out months of exchanges they've had by way of gifts.

He reads the first few pages of the novel, then reads his notes aloud, muttered softly under his breath. He flicks his eyes over Karen's written reply, his gaze moving slowly over her firm, slanted script, the words so completely her that he can almost hear her voice echoing in the emptiness of his living room.

So he decides to re-read the entire book again, decides that he can’t fully understand the conversation between him and Karen without falling back into the story at the same time.

That first day he has the book back, he has to put it down halfway through the third chapter when he looks up at the clock and realizes that he’s supposed to be on his way to the boxing gym. He grabs his gym bag and, at the last moment, throws the book in there, too. He knows he won’t have any time to read it -- especially not since Paul will likely make him run at least two extra laps for being late -- but it gives him a small sense of comfort just to have it nearby.

Paul makes him run through extra drills for being late, but he doesn’t mind -- it makes the time go by faster, helps him to forget the lingering presence of Karen in his bag by the door.

He barely has time to shower and change before he’s rushing off to Jeremy and Marisol’s house, making good on a promise to Mrs. Abaya that he’ll fix their dryer.

He’s five minutes later than he said he would be, but it works out fine because there’s no car in the driveway when he pulls up. He doesn’t mind. He knows Jeremy is perpetually late -- a point of fact that makes Mrs. Abaya call him an honorary Filipino in a fond tone of voice -- and it gives him time to sit on their front stoop and read through a few chapters of Moby Dick.

Even just as words on the page, she’s spelled out her compassion, her empathy, her reserve of steeliness. Even this far from him, even as just a haunting presence in the book, she pushes against him. Pushes him to think beyond himself, asks him questions that he desperately wants to try to answer, even if he doesn’t know how.

If you’re Ahab, does that make me Ishmael?

He pauses at those words, reads the question over and over again. Tries to imagine how she’d say them if they were two people sitting across from one another in a coffee shop -- if there’d be a teasing spark in her eyes or if she’d lean forward, a serious expression on her face, her blue eyes swallowing him up completely.

He’s shakes himself out of his daydream when he hears Jeremy pull up into the driveway.

“Tito Peter!” Emeline shouts, opening the door and leaping out of the minivan before Jeremy even has a chance to turn off the car. She launches herself into his arms and hugs him like it’s been weeks since she’s last seen him rather than just three days. She’s wearing a soccer uniform, the knees all stained with grass, her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Hey honey,” he says, rubbing her on the back before leaning away so he can talk to her. “How’d you do? Did you guys win?”

A wide grin splits her face.

“Yea - yes, Tito! And I scored the winning goal!”

“Course you did, Emeline!” He wraps his fingers around her arms, raises them up above her head in a gesture of victory. “Nice job, sweetie. Wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

She sighs heavily.

“Maybe you can tell Paul to move your training sessions, Tito. Then you can come and watch me.”

He smiles.

“I’ll give it a shot, Emeline. Paul -- he’s pretty strict, but I think I’ll be able to convince him.”

Emeline lights up, bounces up on her toes.

“You can bring him along, Tito. He can cheer for us.”

“Alright, Emeline, you need to go take a shower while Tito Peter helps daddy with dryer,” Jeremy says, coming up behind her. “Hey Pete, good to see you,” he says, nodding to him and reaching out a hand. “Thanks for coming over, I appreciate it.”

“But daddy, how are you going to help Tito?” Emeline asks, a thoroughly confused look on her face. “You don’t know how fix a dryer -- that’s why lola asked Tito peter.”

Jeremy grins, glances over at Frank.

“Out of the mouth of babes, huh, Pete?” He turns to Emeline. “Well, I’m gonna hold his beer, for one. And then I’ll hand him a wrench when he asks for it. And then I’m gonna send him off with some of your lola’s lumpia that she told me to give him once he’s done.” He leans over and unlocks the door, gestures towards the inside of the house. “Now, off to the shower with you.”

She giggles, then rushes through the door.

“I can help better than you can, Daddy!” She shouts as she speeds down the hall. “Just wait for me, Tito Peter!”

Jeremy laughs, then gestures inside and follows Frank.

“So, hey, I really do appreciate this.” He’s glancing down at the stack of mail in his hands as he says it, a nervous of energy to him as he speaks. “It’s a new dryer -- well, new-ish -- so hopefully it’s nothing major and -- oh shit!” Jeremy’s face is a mixture of shock and excitement as he looks down at the opened letter in his hands, which then very quickly shifts into disappointment as he rifles through the packet of papers it’s attached to. “Oh shit. Oh. Shit.”

Frank shuffles from one foot to another, slaps his hands in front of him as he does.

“Everything ok, Jeremy?”

Jeremy looks up, blinks a few times and tries to smile.

“Yeah, God, sorry Pete.” He flips the paper around to show Frank the letter -- just long enough so that he can see the words “congratulations!” written in fancy lettering at the top before he turns it back around. “Emeline -- she got accepted into this really great private prep school. Great STEM program, you know? Our little engineer -- though God knows where she got that from.”  

“So, that’s, uh, good, right? I mean, that’s where Emeline belongs.” He squints at the crestfallen look on Jeremy’s face. “What’s the problem then?”

Jeremy sighs heavily.

“There’s just no way, Pete -- no way that we can afford the tuition. School will cover up to a half of it -- needs based, you know. But the rest -- I mean, even paying half is too much for us -- we’d have to get private or outside scholarships and I’m not sure...”

He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t hurt to try though, right?” Frank asks. “See what’s out there?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. There’s a general scholarship application that the school sends out to donors, so there’s a chance, right? Just -- damn -- I was hoping they’d cover a little bit more.” He folds the letter back up and sticks it in his back pocket. He smiles at Frank, though it's strained at the edges. “Anyway, we’ll figure it out. Let’s tackle this dryer first.”

They spend the next hour or so fixing the dryer, Jeremy and Emeline taking turns helping him. Jeremy mostly hangs back and lets Emeline run around Frank, asking questions and taking turns with tools. He tries to cover it up, but Frank can tell how defeated the other man looks as he watches his daughter unscrew the various parts of the dryer and put it back together.

He thinks about that look as he drives home, can feel the outline of a plan form in his mind. Once he gets home and takes Gracie for a walk, he’s mostly managed to fit it all together. It mostly depends on David, which basically means it’s as good as done.

He spends the rest of the night laying in bed, Gracie at his feet, Moby Dick resting against his chest as he reads.

He likes that Karen’s notes become more intimate, more direct as the book goes on, her voice so loud and present he can almost hear it in the quiet of this apartment. She challenges him easily, like she has since they first met. She also disagrees with enough to make him nervous, wary that they’ll break on something fundamental. But it never even skirts close to a line of rejection, to a place on incompatibility. Instead, she pushes him to re-think passages, pushes him to want to ask her about a word or phrasing or observation in person.

The whale isn’t Evil incarnate, Frank -- it’s nature, or the universe, or God himself. They don’t care about any of us the way Ahab thinks they do. They don’t care about us at all, really. There’s something sad and comforting about that at the same time, don’t you think?

He closes the book as he thinks about those words, thinks about a life in which a negligent God might be a source of comfort, thinks about what kind of life Karen has led for her to think that and just how little he knows about it.

Promises himself that he’ll ask once he sees her again.

“So, any news on the Karen front?” David asks the next day.

They’re sitting the shade of his house, the half-finished patio deck behind them. It’s a slow going project, made slower by the fact that David tends to forget what exactly it is he’s supposed to be doing at any given time. He’s not incapable, Frank’s found, only unmotivated. And he basically has no motivation to finish up this patio deck project seeing as it’s mostly to give Frank an excuse to come over in the afternoons. He thinks that there must be some part of David that is afraid that he’ll just stop coming over if he has no obvious reason to do so.

He wouldn’t, of course, but he doesn’t mind having something to do with his hands when he wants to drown out David’s rambling.

He shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t want to lie, but he also isn’t prepared to discuss the truth

“It’s a long book, David.”

David chuckles.

“Yeah, Frank.” He shakes his head, gives Frank a rueful look. “Yeah, it is.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, so Frank clears his throat to head him off.

“So, uh, listen. Wondered if you could do a favor for me?”

He tries to keep his tone light, his expression easy. It’s been nearly seven months now since it was just the two of them living together in that basement, where favors and plans meant murder and mayhem, but he thinks that those memories must not easily fade. They haven’t for him at least.

David must notice, because he looks more curious than anxious.

“Yeah, sure, Frank. Whatever you need.” He tilts his head. “What’s up?”

“The lady that runs the shelter -- Mrs. Abaya. She’s got this granddaughter, right? Smart kid, name’s Emeline.” David nods. “So, she got into this prep school but the tuition -- her parents are gonna have trouble paying it. I figure since I got all this money and no real reason to spend it, might as well do something good with it.”

David blinks rapidly and the edges of his mouth turn up in a smile, though there’s a twinge of confusion in his gaze.

“Ok, that’s, I mean, that’s great Frank. But I’m not sure where I come in.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, licks his lips.

“Well her parents -- they’re not just gonna let me hand over thousands of dollars. So, I’m wondering if you, you know, set up something that makes it look like she got a scholarship, right? You make it look good, make it look legit, so they don’t know it’s me.” He takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “So, that’s the school and the amount over the next four years and, uh, as much as I know about the process and Emeline’s application. Figure you can find out the rest -- whatever else you need.”

David reads it over quickly then smiles broadly at him and nods.

“Yeah. I can do that.” He pushes off from the side of the house, reaches over and pats Frank on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, Frank. You’re a good man.”

He looks away and shrugs, holds his hands out in front of him in a dismissive gesture.

“I’m not -- it’s just the thing to do. Emeline deserves it, so do her parents.” He’s almost embarrassed by how David’s looking at him, so he ducks down and picks up his toolbox. “Gonna get going but you’ll, uh, let me know when it’s done?”

David nods, gives Frank a distracted wave and a faraway smile that makes him grin. He wouldn't be surprised if everything was set up by the time he goes to bed tonight.  

He stops off at a coffee shop that he likes on the way home. Or rather, a coffee shop that Gracie likes since the coffee’s subpar but the baristas all love her enough to keep the specific brand of treats that she likes for when he stops in.

He settles in the corner of the patio, hat pulled low against the midday sun, and opens up Moby Dick. He loses himself in the story, in the push and pull of Karen’s words, in how desperately he wants to believe in them.

Yes, Ahab wants revenge too, but he’s dragged this whole mess of people along with him and doesn’t care about how it affects them. He’s selfish and egomaniacal. You aren’t. You’re a good man, Frank, in a way that Ahab never could be.

He has to resist the urge to trace his finger over those words, has to stop himself from pressing them into the broken cracks of his psyche. He closes the book like it’ll provide some sort of barrier between him and those words -- a good man -- which he doesn’t know can ever really apply to him, doesn’t know if they ever really could.

His phone buzzes in his pocket.

He clicks open the text message from David and purses his lips, impressed.

Everything’s all set up. Jeremy Morgan should get an official letter in his e-mail detailing Emeline’s scholarship award in the next day or so.

His next text is a link, which Frank clicks on and then snorts when he sees the website it pulls up.

The Castle Foundation the header reads, bold white text on a black background. Underneath it, in smaller letters -- 

Proudly serving the needs of military families from underrepresented and minority communities

He spends the next fifteen minutes scrolling the site, clicking on all the different links, reading the about and history and FAQ. The entire thing is so polished and so thorough that even he almost has trouble believing it isn’t actually a real foundation.

He x’es out of the website and taps into his messages.

Thanks. A little excessive though, don’t you think?

Can never be too careful. Hope it goes well!

Goes well turns out to be a bit of an understatement.

On Wednesday, he shows back up at Jeremy and Marisol’s house, ostensibly to fix a broken dishwasher and is ushered into the kitchen by Jeremy, who cannot stop beaming at him. He walks in the room to find a cake, Emeline in a party hat, about a dozen different Abaya family members that he only vaguely recognizes and both Marisol and Mrs. Abaya crying.

He shoots a questioning look over to Jeremy, who manages to beam even more brightly at him, a feat which had previously seemed impossible.

“Sorry, Peter, I announced it a little early because I was so excited but -- we are celebrating our one and only darling Emeline going to the Horace Mann School starting next fall...on a fully paid scholarship until she graduates!”

He’s never been an exceptionally good liar, so he’s glad when everyone in the room turns towards Emeline and cheers out loud despite apparently already hearing this news. He wades through the crowd and gives Emeline a hug, is enveloped by one from both a teary Marisol and Mrs. Abaya.

He’s standing back from the crowd as half a dozen aunts start setting up catering trays and plates when he feels a tap on his shoulder, looks over to see Jeremy gesturing for him to follow him out into the hallway.

“Hey, I just wanna say, man,” Jeremy claps his on the shoulder. “Thank you so much for what you did.”

“What I -- what exactly did I do?”

Jeremy smiles.

“Hey, no worries, Pete, I didn’t tell anyone since I know you want it kept a secret. So, I get this email yesterday, right? This foundation I never heard of and it just sounded almost too good to be true, plus their name wasn’t listed on the official foundation list that I got in the mail from the school. So I call the number on the website just to verify -- talk to the public relations guy there. Michael...something…” He snaps his fingers a few times. “Michael...Mike Roe!”

Frank barks out a laugh that he very hastily covers up with a cough and hopes that Jeremy doesn’t notice.

“So, uh, what’d Mike say?”

Jeremy grins widely at him.

“Says they’re a new foundation, just starting out -- which is why they hadn’t been on the mailer -- but a lot of money behind them. Anyway, we get to talking and -- well -- he finally says that you’d been the one to put in a nomination for Emeline.”

This time, he doesn’t have to pretend to be surprised.

“And hey, I get it -- why you didn’t tell me. In case it didn’t work out, right?”

Frank purses his lips and nods.  

“But, damn man, did it work out. That must’ve been some nomination you submitted because Mike said they don’t normally hand out awards this big.” He shakes his head, breathes out sharply. “And I just -- I really appreciate it, Pete. It was gonna break my heart to tell Emeline we couldn’t afford it.”

He nods, looks away from Jeremy and shrugs.

“No big deal, Jeremy. Didn’t really do much, you know -- just told the truth, clicked a few buttons.”

Jeremy laughs and shakes his head.

“Well, either way, I appreciate it.” He reaches over and gives Frank a quick hug. “Now c’mon, let’s go in there and eat before we get in trouble by one of the aunties.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jeremy is walking him to the door, a plastic bag holding various tupperware filled with leftover food in his hands.

“So, the dishwasher is actually broken,” Jeremy says sheepishly. “That wasn’t, like, a ruse or anything to get you to come over here. I just figured you wouldn’t wanna sit and fix it while everyone was having fun around you.”

Frank shrugs.

“Wouldn’t’ve minded.”

Jeremy laughs.

“I believe it.” He gestures towards the living room. “Sure you don’t wanna stay a little longer? Pretty sure someone’s gonna break out the karaoke machine soon, so that’s always a good time.”

Frank smiles and shakes his head.

“Maybe next time. I -- uh -- have a book I’ve been trying to finish, so --.” He shrugs. “You know.”

Jeremy nods, waves him out the door with an enthusiastic smile.

He sits in his car for a moment and scrolls through the pictures on his phone until he finds the one he wants to send.

It’s Emeline, standing in the kitchen, a crooked party hat on her head, flanked by her parents and Mrs. Abaya, with Frank crouched down next to her. He hadn’t wanted to be included, had only agreed when Mrs. Abaya had shot him a stern look and given a pointed gesture to the space next to Emeline -- which makes him almost 100% certain that the secret of his ‘nomination’ is no longer actually a secret.

Emeline is holding up her acceptance letter to Horace Mann, her parents and Mrs. Abaya beaming. His smile in the picture, too, is wide and genuine -- Emeline’s excitement rubbing off on him, maybe. Or perhaps from the warmth of Mrs. Abaya’s hand resting on his shoulder, Emeline’s arm threaded through his -- that feeling of belonging, of family.

He looks at the photo for a long moment and finds that his throat feels tight as he does. He takes a deep breath in and clears his throat before sending the picture to David.

Went well. Guess you’ve gotten pretty bad at keeping secrets though, Mike Roe.

David sends back a thumbs up emoji, followed by a text a moment later --

Thought you could use a few more people out there knowing that you’re a good man. 

[raudomuess]

My ghost story...

TLDR: we’ve had stuff reappear in random places, gotten stuff thrown at us, heard people walking, felt other presences, and have been spoken to in our family’s voices, despite it not being our family talking.

So... I’ve been reading a few different stories about people’s real-life haunting, and I decided that maybe I should share my own?

The first ghost I saw was when I was 5 or 6. I came out of my room after waking up to go see my mom, who was in the kitchen making breakfast. I opened my door and this guy comes walking by. He was in a tux and had a hat. He was sorta transparent? Like a grayish color but at the same time sorta rainbow-ish? Like the light was splitting, I guess. I hid in my room and called for my mom and refused to walk through the hall without the light on.

At a different point, my sister and I woke up to find some glitter body spray dumped all over her desk. My sister would occasionally sleep-walk, so we decided to chalk it up to a sleep-walking incident, but we don’t really know.

One day, I was tossing around my little brother’s basketball. I accidentally knocked off one of my stepdad’s model cars from the top of the desk (it had a really tall back). It didn’t fall all the way and I couldn’t reach it, so I just left it and hoped nobody would notice. When we got home that night (I did this before school), it was back on top of the desk. Part of it had broken off. When my stepdad got home, he noticed it. I got in trouble for trying to hide it instead of telling someone- despite my protests that I didn’t stick it back up there, that I couldn’t even reach it. It was really random, but I’ve never understood how it managed to get back up there.

A few years later, we moved into a new house. The whole vibe of that house was off. We never really felt right there. I was terrified to look off the top bunk at night, even with a night light or a tv on. We had a few random things break or move, but we generally just pushed it off as someone had moved this or bounced or something.

Then we moved again. This house was very interesting.

As we moved, my camera disappeared. Just completely disappeared. One day, it randomly appeared in my mom’s closet- it definitely hadn’t been there before. This was months after moving.

My mom’s room had a bathroom attached. About three feet in front of the door, she has a nightstand and then her bed. When she would change, she would drop her spare coins off on the nightstand. At random times, these coins would fly off at whoever was walking by. This happened to my mom on multiple occasions- these coins would fly from the middle of the nightstand three feet over and hit her ankles as she walked over the threshold to the bathroom. It happened to me only once, but it freaked me out so much that I refused to go in there alone afterwards.

Another time, we were standing in her room so that she could fix my hair. Her dresser was one of the big ones with a mirror on top, so we were looking into it. She had a jewelry box on top of the dresser, and had a little heart charm that had fallen off a bracelet sitting on top of that. As we’re standing there, this heart literally lifts into the air and falls down in front of the dresser. We both saw it pick up into the air. We each looked at each other like “Did you see that too?” There was nothing we could do, so my mom just picked it back up and finished my hair.

I always heard random footsteps in the hallway at night- but I thought I was the only person who did. My mom and sister both denied these. Recently, my mom admitted that she heard them too, but she always tried to write them off as creaky floors.

At another point, my sister and I were hanging out in our living room. My mom came from her room to go to the laundry room with her dirty clothes. Her purse was in the kitchen, but she didn’t stop. When she walked back to her room, she hollered for us to come in there. There was just money, sitting on the floor. It was the same amount of cash that she had had in the pocket of her purse. I went to check her purse, and sure enough, the money was gone. Idk why our “friend” found this amusing, but whatever.

One time, we were all sitting at the kitchen table, having a game night. All of a sudden, the laptop started playing a song- it was like “Say something I’m giving up on you.” That was creepy.

We were prepping to move the next summer. (Yeah, we’ve moved a lot.) We has already packed up almost everything, so my sister and I were camping out in my brother’s room, since his mattresses (he had a bunk bed) were still out. As we’re drifting off to sleep, my sister just says “hey, *my name*?” Like she was getting my attention. I didn’t respond- idk why, but I just felt like I shouldn’t? I asked her the next morning- she didn’t say it (and she can’t tell a lie with a straight face). I mean, she could’ve been sleep talking, but we had only laid down a few minutes before that and the whole thing just felt wrong.

We moved in to my Nana’s house. One day, I was in my Nana’s room with her. The door was closed to keep out the dogs, because we were re-bandaging a big cut on my toe. We both hear my mom stop by the door and say hey (with footsteps). I asked “what?” And then we hear the footsteps keep going, complete with the door to the front porch and everything. So we’re like, “okay??” We finish with my bandage and go out. I ask Mom what she wanted and she’s just like huh? She had apparently been outside for a while now, and didn’t ever stop by my Nana’s room on the way out.

At a different point, I had gone to get a shower one morning. Everyone had moved out to the porch. My uncle was there and came in to ask me if I was okay- he had apparently heard me holler out something, but didn’t know what it was. I didn’t make any noise- I wasn’t even singing or anything.

By that winter, my sister and Mom had moved to a new city. I went to visit over break, and laid my cross earrings on my sister’s dresser. When I woke up the next morning, one earring was there, but the other one was missing the cross. The hook was there, just the cross was gone. I was seriously concerned- those were my favorite earrings. They didn’t show up again over break. I moved up there when the school year ended. We moved into a different house that fall. As we were moving everything, I found the second earring (I had long since thrown out the remaining earring and hook, thinking it was a lost cause). It was behind MY dresser.... in a completely different room from where I lost it (I know for a fact that it was on the hook when I took off the earrings, and I never went into the room that it was in until after I actually moved in). It couldn’t have been swept in there without somebody noticing- the floor in front of the room was uneven, so it would’ve taken specific efforts to sweep it into the room.

I wasn’t present for this one, bc it happened between the time that my mom moved and I moved. Basically, they’re sitting in the living room, which has view of the kitchen. A cabinet door starts opening. This could easily be explained- it’s not set right, it wasn’t closed, whatever. But then, the door starts closing. It came halfway opened and then went to almost closed.

Additionally, over the summer, my mom, sister, and I went to the store. On the way back, my mom and I were up front. We both hear my sister say “hey Mom.” My mom asks “what?” and I turned around. She didn’t answer and is, evidently, lost in thought. My mom again asks “what?” and then my sister was confused- she says she didn’t say anything.

Sorry for the book!

[inyri]

Befores and Afters (a Mass Effect story)- for Kaidan Week 2017

(OK, so I’m really cheating on this one with 0 writing time so far this week- I wrote this at Christmas 2012 for a gift exchange. Sorry.

Mass Effect 3. FemShep/Kaidan.)

***

Befores and Afters (Some things change. Some things don’t.) I. Mako Her drone just barely fits under the Mako. She wouldn’t need it, normally, but her hands are full with the torque wrench, she’s got a bolt between her teeth and her headlamp keeps threatening to fall off. The light from the drone offsets the shadows from the maintenance trench just enough, and when she mutters around the bolt it chirps cheerfully in response, its tinny voice reading off the next set of pre-programmed instructions. USING A MALLET BREAK THE CONTROL ARM FREE OF THE SPINDLE Mallet. Shepard rests the wrench on her stomach, feeling around her for the appropriate tool without result. Which is still on the workbench. Damn it. She bends her knee to kick the edge of the hoverboard with one booted heel, sending it scooting out from beneath the Mako- and squarely into Kaidan’s ankles, knocking him back a step before its momentum dies. “I thought I heard you muttering under there.” He crouches down beside her. “Isn’t it supposed to be impossible to break a Mako?” “Whmph-” She spits the bolt at him; it clinks off his belt buckle and lands on the floor beside his foot. “Whoever said that wasn’t trying hard enough. I think we cracked an axle on that last slide down the mountain.” Kaidan picks up the bolt, twirls it between his fingers. “That would explain the loud noise and the wheel wobble. I knew that terrain was impassable.” “We passed it just fine.”

“Until you broke the Mako.” He sets the bolt on her stomach, next to the wrench. “At least the system’s clear of geth. Maybe they’ll even give us a real mission soon, instead of mopping up stragglers in the Terminus.”

“Yeah, well. The medals were pretty shiny.” Her scar twitches, pulls her right eye closed into the semblance of a wink. Kaidan snorts. “And that and a dead Reaper’ll buy you a cup of coffee. Did you need something?” She gestures awkwardly toward the workbench. “I forgot the mallet- I haven’t fixed an axle since Basic. Wires and lasers are more my thing, y’know? But the mechanic’s on shore leave until tomorrow morning, so-” her drone peeks out from the repair bay, chiming impatiently, “-I figured I’d take a stab at it.” “A stab?” “Metaphorical stab. With hammering.” Lifting and setting the wrench beside her on the hoverboard, Shepard powers down the gravity control and starts to sits up even as he pushes her back down, one hand on her chest. “Hey, now- watch those hands, Alenko.” He grins and waves her off. “I’ll get it for you. Mallet, right?” “Yup. Should be on the… right. I think.” “So it is.” He rises and his footsteps move away for a moment, then pause. “On one condition.” Something scrapes along the bench surface; his footsteps come back, closer, and she turns her head to look at him as Kaidan waves the mallet in front of her, crouched down to whisper in her ear. She rolls her eyes at him. “On what condition?” “Promise you won’t steal the blankets again.” His voice is barely audible, even so close. (They were always careful, in those days- regulations and all- but caution turned every moment into an opportunity, like how the elevator just happened to get stuck for about a minute whenever they were in it together.) “You have seriously cold feet, Shepard.” “I promise.” Kaidan nods solemnly, reverses his grip and hands it to her, handle-first. “Have fun.” “Will do.” She kicks the hoverboard back into gear and slides back under the Mako as her drone reactivates with a happy-sounding hum. USING A MALLET BREAK THE CONTROL ARM FREE OF THE SPINDLE “Yeah, yeah.” After a moment, the drone’s synthetic voice is lost beneath a flurry of hammer blows. *** Shepard didn’t expect to find much left on Alchera, honestly. Her ship- Joker’s baby, but in her heart it was hers- sits in a dozen pieces on the surface, scattered armor pieces and dog tags like deformed metal flowers on red dirt but then she comes down a hill and there’s the Mako, resting on a rocky outcropping like she just drove up and left it there yesterday. Never mind that it’s been two years. Never mind that it must have fallen out of the sky, landed there when the Normandy broke up during re-entry (though she was mostly broken up already, long before she hit the atmosphere). Never mind that the rear axle she replaced so carefully is still intact when she peers beneath the vehicle, complete with the scratch on the right-hand side where the torque wrench slipped out of her hand. Maybe it really is impossible to break a Mako. She scales the rocks and kicks at the door until it opens, reaches inside and pulls the dangling fuzzy dice off the viewport; they fit neatly into an empty ammo pouch, and when she returns to the SR-2 she drapes them over the corner of the frame that holds his picture. ***

II. Armor “But now we’ve got reports about you and Cerberus.” She denies it, of course. She’s working with Cerberus, not for Cerberus, the change in preposition making all the difference in the world, but the words seem interchangeable to everyone but her. The armor doesn’t help. The style’s the same that she always favored, with plenty of pouches and pockets for spare wires and ammo and odds and ends. Her shotgun sits comfortably at the small of her back; her sniper rifle, an upgraded version of the gun she’s used since her trips to the firing range with Mom, rests along her spine in its scabbard. She looks the same- except for the orange blazon on her shoulder like a traitor’s brand. In the end, Kaidan walks away, and Shepard doesn’t fault him for it. When she gets back to the ship she dismantles one of the pop-up turrets and uses the laser to blast the painted logos off her armor. She’s finished with the body armor and halfway done with the helmet by the time Miranda stalks into the armory. “Shepard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her speech’s particularly clipped today, the consonants sharpened to knifepoints. “Making some adjustments to my gear.” Shepard finishes with the laser and makes a few passes with a buffing pad before picking up enamel and paintbrush. “Orange isn’t my color.” Miranda scowls, picking up her breastplate in one hand and one spaulder in the other. “This is Cerberus property, not some off-the-rack Alliance garbage. It’s not yours to deface.” She finishes the white stripe down the armguard, looks up and snorts. “Oh, really?” “We’ve discussed this, Shepard. You’ve already made non-standard adjustments to your weapons, the drones-” “-and half the crew are aliens and it pisses you off, Miranda. I get it.” The stripe’s still too damp to tape over; she’ll have to do the red later. “But I’m pretty sure we’ve established this is a non-standard mission.” Arms folded across her chest, Miranda stands in the doorway. “Field research suggests that this armor pattern is optimal across nearly every combat condition. You may lose the element of surprise.” She pushes a few buttons on her omni-tool and her drone flickers to life, hovering just at eye level in front of the other woman’s face. “If people see me coming, lady, it’ll be because I want them to.” Shepard smiles over the static buzz of the drone’s energy field. “So if I want to paint my armor bright fucking pink with lime green polka dots, I will.” Miranda narrows her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some work to do.” She turns her back to the door and doesn’t look up until she hears it close. *** She always liked the way Kaidan looked in blue- the color did something remarkable against his hair- but she has to admit his new armor is pretty spectacular. Maybe it’s the pockets. You can never have enough pockets. The first time she fights beside him when he wears it, they end up pinned between two buildings with a turret on their rear and an Atlas shooting rockets up their noses. Shepard hates Atlases- can’t get close enough to shotgun them, sniping takes forever, so she’s stuck plinking away at the damn thing from behind a crate between carefully timed Overloads. “Low on ammo here,” she shouts across to him, sending her drone behind them toward the turret. He throws a clip across; she reloads the rifle and aims across the crate, finally getting a clear line of sight to the mech’s pilot through the shattered bubble. Her shot catches the Cerberus soldier just between the eyes, and as he slumps out of the cockpit the mech powers down. Behind them, the turret explodes in a shower of sparks. “Clear?” Kaidan checks their tail. She crawls out of cover, looks right and left around the empty Atlas. “Clear.” The turret’s dead, a few parts still useable- she tucks those into her belt pouch- but its thermal clips don’t work with rifles. Shepard looks back to Kaidan with a shrug. “This rifle’s an ammo hog. Can you spare any more?” “Eh, I’ve got plenty.” He opens one of the front pockets. “The ammo pouches on this thing have ammo pouches. I feel like a munitions factory.” Shepard resolves at that moment to get a suit of it for herself. It would figure, of course, that the Ajax was a Cerberus design, stripped in bits and pieces off a couple dead engineers after a raid and retrofitted to Alliance spec. (Of course it was for engineers- practical, elegant design with plenty of gear space, easily adapted to different loadouts, better-than-standard performance enhancement. Only an engineer could create such a thing.) She can’t help but tease Kaidan about it, if only a little. “So I guess not everything Cerberus worked on is so bad, hm?” She brushes off the engraving on the chestpiece- SHEPARD, in big block letters, unmistakeable as anyone’s but hers. “I guess not,” Kaidan says, inspecting his own suit with its matching engraving; he looks her up and down, and grins. “I can think of a few good things they’ve done.” “This armor is pretty great.” She doesn’t notice he’s still looking until she turns around. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it is.”

***

III. Rest It’s a travel day, which means mission planning. There aren’t many travel days, now, with the Reapers in almost every system, but this outpost’s at the furthest edge of the cluster and they decide to play it safe. If the Reapers follow them, there won’t be enough time for a full evacuation before they lose the whole thing- or the planet it’s on. Like Bekenstein. Shepard closes her eyes and flops back onto the bed. “I need a nap.” “You need a vacation.” Kaidan snatches the datapad from beneath her just before she rolls over onto her stomach. “A long vacation.” “Hmph.” She turns her head to the side, keeps her eyes closed. “Didn’t they tell you in Spectre training? We don’t get vacations. We just keep working until our bodies give out, then get replaced with new models. Like machines.” His hands slide under the white cotton of her shirt, fingers working at the knots that run like parallel ropes along her spine. “You’re not a machine, Shepard. You get to be tired once in a while.” He digs into a particularly stubborn spot; she winces, then relaxes. “Besides, we’ve done as much planning as we can.” “I keep telling myself that, but it’s never enough.” She rests her head on her folded arms. Kaidan lets it go for a while, brushing her hair away to get at her neck, pulling up the elastic cuffs at her ankles to work along the backs of her legs. “It has to be.” “What if it isn’t?” He stops, then, and when she turns to look at him he lifts her hand in his, presses his lips against the tattoo on her little finger. “It will be. Get some sleep, okay? EDI can let you know when we’re getting close.” “I don’t want to sleep.” “I thought you said-“ Shepard sighs. “I did. I lied. I want to forget, I guess- when I sleep, I remember.” She rolls onto her back again, looking up at the passing stars through the skylight. “Can I help you forget, then?” Kaidan, still sitting cross-legged on the bed, looks down at her. “Not if it involves tequila like last time. I was hung over all day.” Her nose wrinkles at the memory. (She’s had to stay away from it ever since; she’d always thought he was a whiskey drinker, anyway.) He chuckles, and bends down to kiss her stomach, just at the gap where the hem of her shirt pulls away from her waistband. “I can probably think of other ways.” “Mm?” She smiles. “Mm.” He gets the drawstring between his teeth and pulls.

*** Communication lines were spotty after the war ended, and it took some time to repair enough of the damage to get the Normandy airborne again. He knew she wasn’t gone, though. The others called it wishful thinking, made a plaque with her name to put up on the memorial wall, but he wouldn’t do it. Not yet. When he gets the message he’s already back on Earth, helping clean up the wreckage that used to be Vancouver, but half an hour later he’s on the first transport to London. “They found her.” Liara meets him outside the hospital- she’d been the first to know, as she was so often. Her voice cracks. “She’s in rough shape, but she’s alive. I’ve spoken with Miranda, and she’s coming to help, but-“ “That bad?” He swallows. He’d seen the records. “No, no. Alive. Awake, now. Shepard’s a hard woman to kill.” “Let me see her.” She’s terribly pale and wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages and clean white sheets, but when he comes through the door she smiles. “Hey, you.” “Hey.” There aren’t words for this, for the moments between ‘I thought you were dead’ and ‘don’t ever do that again’ and ‘I love you,’ so he settles for the first thing that comes out. “You did it.” She laughs like it hurts her, but she nudges his hand where it rests on the bedrail. “Just doing my job.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

8 things finishing my 8th book taught me

*I wrote this post on the 16th of October, for the record!*

Hey People of Earth!

So just like in the post I wrote up in January when I finished my seventh novel, this is kind of nuts to say, and I didn't think I’d be writing this for another month, but uh.

I finished my eighth book.

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I’m going to quote past me in that particular post (which you can read HERE) because if this isn't scary accurate, I dunno what is:

So I kind of made a stupid, somewhat fleeting goal this past Friday, as I usually do. And that was to finish this book at all costs.

It doesn't *really* surprise me that that I finished my seventh novel, and then my eighth under the same parameters, lol. (Both were finished on Sunday nights too, I believe?)

I genuinely can’t believe this book is over. It’s been eight months of writing this novel (HA eight months for my eighth book) and I can say I’m genuinely so sad it’s over. I walked around today feeling like I lost an important part of myself which is really dramatic seeming as though I just finished the book, but I hope someone out there relates.

I started this book right after finishing my seventh novel (book four in this series), and I’ll be honest--I was so scared about writing this book. Book seven gave me a really hard time, and I almost thought I’d made a mistake in a) continuing this story and b) taking it in the direction I did. I couldn't evade fear when writing this novel. Starting it took me a while because it was so nerve-wracking to think it could be as much of a struggle as the last. I didn't want to fail because I knew if I did, I wouldn't be able to pull myself out of that rut, and then end up with an unfinished series.

Annnnnnd then I started my Doing the Write Thing updates, and all of that worry faded a bit. I started DtWT at a little under 10k words, and reached a little under 160k through that series. It kept me accountable. It excited me, and more than anything, motivated me. I know I mentioned this in DtWT #61, but thank you again for supporting that series so much, and for reading those posts. Genuinely, it means a lot to share my work with you, and to see my work improve as each post passes. I really don't know if I would’ve finished this novel without that series. It really kicked me into the gear of writing again, and gahhhh, thank you again.

FOSTERED #5 houses some of my best work, but most importantly, taught me so, so much, and so, here I bring to you, eight things finishing my eighth novel taught me.

1. I really care about writing.

This is my eighth book, and I can confidently say this is the only one in which I cared about the writing from start to finish. (Sounds strange, but I’ll explain.)While writing is a lot of things, at its core, writing is writing, and it took me eight books to really immerse myself in words and enjoy using them as tools to create something beautiful. I crave beautiful prose—a desire I didn’t really feel until writing this book. Making sentences read and sound like art is what I strive for now. 

From books 1-6, writing wasn't my top priority. Telling a story no matter the quality was my priority, and while that isn't wrong, I think working with that mindset for so long wasn't becoming enough for me. I needed to re-evaluate, and really focusing on the craft of writing, rather than storytelling was what I needed. Of course, writing also includes good storytelling, but I feel, looking back on it, that until halfway around book seven, I didn't even think about the writing. I didn't edit it all that much, and most importantly, didn't care about writing. I liked words, yeah, and enjoyed creating the random nice sentence here and there, but I didn't view it as something I could use to create art. Now, good writing means a lot to me, and while I don't think my writing is perfect, and could use improvement, I’m so happy with the improvement I’ve made and the love of actual writing I’ve procured start-to-finish through it. :)

2. Sometimes acceptance takes time.

Book four of this series (my seventh novel) took me a very, very long time to accept, and even after I’d written it, I wasn’t confident in the route I’d taken it. I still had the same worries when writing book five and it took a whole lot of crying to realize that I’m very proud of how these last two books turned out. I’m an emotional person, but don't often show my emotions, so it’s sort of funny looking back how much I cried when writing this book, HA. I had a lot of worries about this novel, and my anxiety was eating me alive every time I wrote it. That was my issue in the beginning, but I found, the more time went on in writing this book, the more I accepted it, and the more I grew to really love it. So, if you’re in a position like me, and you’re seriously not feeling your book, sometimes time is the best remedy.

3. Moments like these are the ones you need to cherish.

When I was writing the last paragraph or so of this book, I got really emotional (lol how do I say that without sounding melodramatic). I didn’t cry or anything, but it felt like I was losing something. It was bittersweet. I’ve never felt this way before when I’ve finished a novel. It’s honestly usually been me moving onto the next book the same day or the next day, or feeling content.

But this… was something else. It was letting go of something I loved so much. I learned through this book that every time you write your book is time you should cherish. It’s something you spend a chunk of your life on. Moments happen around your book, and your book is there with you to experience them. This book in particular holds such a strong place in my heart because it gave me--as cheesy as it sounds lol rip--some new hope.

I learned to love the book I write when I write it even if it’s a pain. To cherish my time with this book, and to take my time. It hurt to finish it, honestly, I guess it’s particularly angsty for me to say I feel this grief for something that hasn't left me. I’m so glad it’s done, but it was like closing the door to a chapter I didn’t want to end. It had to end in that spot, rightfully so, but I wanted to hang onto it for as long as I could. I genuinely appreciate every moment I had to write this book, looking back. And I’m so happy I learned so much through it.

4. Taking your time isn’t a bad thing.

This sort of bounces off that last one, but this is a lesson I learned the hard way. My average drafting time before I wrote my seventh book was 3 months. This book, as I mentioned, took me eight months, and before then, the longest it’d taken me to write a novel was six months, and that was the hardest book I’d ever written. A big issue I had when I was writing book four in this series was that I felt as if taking three months longer than my average to draft was a telling sign that I was struggling with the book. I can pretty much say writing this novel was a bit of a breeze (it had its moments, but overall), and taking my time helped in terms of quality. A disclaimer, the time it takes to write a book varies from writer to writer, so this is completely personal, but I feel like taking a little longer writing this book realllyyyyyyy amped it up in the prose department.

Not to roast past me, but yooooo my older books lacked a lottttttttt of literary merit, like where is the good writing cuz I see none, lol. Not to say this book is amazing and the writing is excellent, but I do see a substantial improvement from my older stuff. So yes, initially when I started writing this book I was keen on finishing it in three months and rushing it so I could just be done and write something else. But as time went on, I realized that there is no rush. Even though I constantly feel at rush in my life (for mental health reasons I don't want to get into now, but if you’re curious, let me know!), I learned to take it slow. Enjoy the writing process, and create something at the end of the day, regardless of how long it takes.

5. I’m growing up.

A common question I posed while writing this book to myself and to my sister was well where did all the fun times go? Books 1-3 in this story are pretty juvenile—more banter between characters, ‘missions’, and so on, but as I aged, I found those things dried up and turned into just straight melancholy? (lol) I don’t have many if any fun times in book five, not in the sense I defined fun times as at least in the past. This series has spanned five books, and three years of my life, so I’ve done a lot of growing up since writing the first one. Its message and morals have gone from super obvious to pretty ambiguous, and the lines of morality have been blurred quite a bit (which I enjoy incorporating into my writing now). Right and wrong aren’t as easily spotted (and tbh this book is totallllyyyyy not suited for a YA audience lol content is hella graphic but), and a lot of it is rooted in the darkest corners of the human mind. I don't know if 13-year-old me would’ve expected these books to wind up in this path, but 16-year-old me is cool with where it is. I left a lot of me in these books, and pretty much grew up with them. It’s strange to have captured so much growth of myself personally in these novels, but this is already something I've learned to cherish.

6. I might actually be a true Pantser (but we’ll see)

So if any of you have been following this blog since the good ol’ 2015 days, it’s common knowledge that I made it clear I was a Pantser. I pantsed everyyyythiiiiingggg. In recent years, I’ve decided to start outlining projects I plan on publishing (for the most part, excluding ALANNIS) just so I can see what I’m getting into before I start. The FOSTERED series, since it’s all personal stuff, isn’t going to be published. I pants these books, but occasionally, and I found this happened a lot more with book five, I’ll write up ‘scene screenplays’ which are basically just the bones of a scene.

OH did I find out that writing with a guideline does noooottttt work for me. I’m not going to say anything here is permanent, but I pretty much realized my writing with my outline VS without one is drastically different... I’m not actually happy about this discovery to be honest, as I've already started outlining a couple projects, and the struggle was so real when writing with an outline for this novel. I really do hope this is not the case, and was just subjective to this book, but yes, this was a major lesson I picked up on when writing this particular book (and I reallllllllyyyyyyyy hope this changes)!

7. I like writing really sad, dark things

This is sorta morbid, I’m sorry, but I’m really into writing all things dark and upsetting and overall, enjoy a darker tone in my writing. I noticed, if I had any ‘happier’ scene, it’d take me a little longer to write/I had more trouble writing it. Don’t know what that says about me, but as someone who is sort of naturally on the darker side (edgy af the edge is real), it makes sense that I do enjoy the not so pleasant sides of the mind, and life. Or, I’m just really angsty, and angst (poetic angst in this book, I’ll say) is all you need. Love is all you need more like angst is all you need.

*angst*

I don't think there’s anything particularly wrong with enjoying writing darker things, and I noted that I often struggle writing joy. Honestly this is just sad, lol. (But I mean look at my boi Edgar, he wrote lots of dark things and I mean that's my dude now speaking of Edgar, the epigraph of this novel [which I’m including, even if the others don’t because epigraphs are aesthetic goals] is an Edgar quote and Edgar is my bro.)

8. I love this book so much, and if I could go back and tell myself I would have when I started it, I would.

I worried a lot when I started this novel. I worried it would fail, that it would get nowhere, that it would end unfinished, that I’d taken it the wrong route, that it would take too long to write, that I wouldn’t enjoy what I was writing, that the plot was dumb, that I focused on the wrong things, that the first chapter wasn’t strong enough, and a whole other laundry list of worries pretty common between writers. I really would go back to my past self and tell her not to worry. To tell her that just because she wrote this book and said she wouldn't, doesn't mean the product would be shitty. I’m genuinely proud of this novel, and I don't know if I’ve said that in a long time. I’m happy I wrote it. Happy I poured eight months of my life into it, and most importantly, am happy it taught me so many valuable lessons. I’m happy I got to connect with you on another level through it, and happy I carried it with me through this stage of my life. It saw my hatred, and my worst moments, my great moments, my worry, and every other emotion I also tried to share on here. Books are books, but this one felt like a friend. I’m sad to lose my friend now, but I’m thankful for the time we spent together. This got all sappy again, but yes. Thank you, book. I will miss writing you, lol.

So that’s it for today’s post. I had a blast writing this. It’s always a nice reflective period to go back in time and really point out what exactly I learned through this journey. I think this novel shaped me a lot as a writer, and I’m happy to move into other projects without it, because I feel like I know a lot more than I did before. Thank you for being on this journey with me, and for reading through everything that happened in these last eight months. I truly appreciate everything you give me, and couldn't express my thanks enough.

Aaaaand before I leave, a mega thanks to my dudes who continuously supported this journey: @sarahkelsiwrites, @sssoto and @shaelinwrites for listening, encouraging, and teaching me so many things about writing.

See you in the next one. :)

--Rachel

[herotheshiro]

[new thing i’m gonna do is put the manga’s cover on my review posts so y’all who don’t know/memorize titles can tell/remember what manga i’m talking about at a glance. photos will purposely not be good quality, i’m just grabbing off of google images and this isn’t a scanlations tumblr or anything]

so. today i’m writing about hate no kouya de vacances wo/the world’s end. it’s actually made up of 3 one-shots, and i’ll be reviewing the 2nd and 3rd ones -- i didn’t read the 1st one bc it’s not stuff i’m that interested in reading (ageless demon picks up human child, child grows up and he and the demon get together as adults).

2nd story is called the frog boy i think, it’s about a HS boy who’s really pretty but he’s disgusted by himself and his own looks. he befriends a classmate who’s really into bugs and fossils and etc and obviously this is BL they get together at the end. this was a nice read, i liked that when the classmate finally confesses near the end, you know he likes the main for more than his looks even though the beginning of his confession is like ‘i’ve been thinking lately you’re prettier than a luna moth...’. tbh i was afraid the story was gonna take a morbid turn and the main disfigures his own face out of personal disgust or something and the classmate would be into it, but nah it was basically just a ‘i like you for more than/past your looks’ story. ending where the main suddenly stops being nauseous abt his looks didn’t really make sense bc you just don’t suddenly stop hating yourself just bc someone you like confesses to you but whatever, story logic where everything gets wrapped up in the end nicely is how it is.

3rd story is called something along the lines of vacationing at world’s end [characters on cover are for this story], and man tbh this is the story i really wanted to write about in this post. (spoilers oncoming bc i’m just gonna give the entire story here so i can discuss it) main character shin is a scientist/astronaut living alone on a planet carrying out research missions while he keeps contact with a scientist rurikiya (was that his name? i forgot) back on earth (who he is also actually in a relationship with. more on this later in my thoughts). he’s been out there alone for years, so occasionally he has his mission support AI (designed by scientist dude) take the form of the scientist dude and he sleeps with him and eventually just hangs with him in rurikiya form. finally it’s time for shin to return home but turns out a year prior earth had been completely destroyed by an asteroid and also rurikiya died then ... and turns out the person he had been talking to for that entire year was the AI, which turns out rurikiya put all his neural info into up until his death which was why the AI was basically able to develop as and be rurikiya without shin realizing something was up.

ok now that the summary’s out of the way ... stories like this always really pull at my heartstrings. technically it’s a “happy” ending bc in the end shin and rurikiya are together ... it just brings up the decades-old question of “if you copy a person exactly, DNA and thought patterns and all .... is that copy really the same thing as the original person you copied from?” which is hella complicated to even begin to unpack in post that’s just a manga/BL review. there’s another BL that comes to mind that touched on this which is that one abt the main who meets this guy who travelled back in time and is like ‘we’re destined to be together’ and eventually they get together but then the guy dies and idr how the story progresses but the ending is the main living in the future with a robot clone of the time traveller dude ... and now that i’m thinking about it, there’s also a couple other stories i can think of which had similar stories/concepts, and all of them just make me feel so sad...

anyway thoughts on story plot. story starts, and i’m like ‘omg... this is gonna be a case of AI falls in love with human or vice versa huh...’ and then halfway through the story i was like ‘ok the AI is actually gonna be rurikiya somehow, like rurikiya can actually see through the AI so he knows shin has been hooking up with him every night’ bc i thought it was gonna be a simple story where it ends with them together at the end in a HEA and then they hit me with the ‘earth has actually been destroyed’ revelation so then i was like ‘WAIT OMG... THE AI HAS BECOME SENTIENT AND IS IN LOVE WITH SHIN’ and then they’re like ‘well actually rurikiya put all his neural info into the AI so the AI is actually rurikiya basically’. basically a ton of whiplashes... i was under the impression that shin had a secret crush on rurikiya but also turns out (based on the side story at the end which is rurikiya’s pov of shin going off to the other planet and during earth’s doomsday) they were actually in a relationship or something (but then this kind of makes me confused re: that scene when AI rurikiya is like ‘isn’t that creepy? we’re basically the same’ and there’s a shot of shin and rurikiya in bed together ... was that supposed to be like ‘oh all along shin thought he was sleeping with an AI but he was actually sleeping with rurikiya?’ or was it a ‘oh we’re actually both interested in each other like that but that was a weird way to reveal it’. i mean the side story kind of basically says they were in a relationship w rurikiya being like ‘[shin] should have proposed before he left’ but idk. i guess you could argue otherwise) ??

anyway the manga ends with them being like ‘yeah the AI is rurikiya. now with earth destroyed ... at least they can be together for the time being’ which like ok but also i’m the kind of person who’s like ‘no the copy and the original are different entities’ so i’m conflicted ... the ending i feel like could also be interpreted as shin knowing that the AI isn’t rurikiya (bc he’s like ‘you’re dead’ to the AI’s face) but accepting him and his concept of rurikiya as a replacement since the “real” rurikiya is gone. though the acceptance of the ‘aren’t i enough?’ line could go (again) either way ... either 1. the AI with rurikiya’s neural info has memories of their relationship and basically his personality and develops as rurikiya so rurikiya is still with him albeit in AI form or 2. rurikiya and the AI are different, but the AI can take on rurikiya’s form and thus rurikiya can still “be” with shin. again the side story made me a lil confused here bc i was like ‘did rurikiya shift his consciousness to the AI’ with the ‘i can see it shin’ line bc if it’s just an AI then how ... or is rurikiya being like ‘in my mind here on earth i can see it’. the thing about this 3rd story is that i feel like it’s not entirely tight re: the whole AI situation as you would expect from a fully developed sci-fi story but i mean lol this is just a one-shot and there are enough details that everything makes sense (or you can easily make it make sense). also the comment about ‘when the meteroid was coming, only the millionaires, govt officials, and the barest minimum of staff got on the escape ships and i wasn’t able to get a ship to you’ made me so sad bc you damn know well that same shit would happen if this doomsday shit happened today.

anyway i wonder whenever rurikiya was updating the AI with his neural info did he see that shin was sleeping with him. i mean i think the whole sleeping with the AI thing didn’t happen until the year post-earth being destroyed but idr the story’s timeframe. also wanted to say my favorite panel in this story was the panel right after rurikiya tells shin that the earth was destroyed a year ago: it looks so different compared to the rest of the story’s style, and you can tell the raw horror/fear in that one moment.

other than the 1st story that i didn’t read, the 2nd and 3rd stories were nice even though the last one was really sad to read. stories like that which indirectly talk about the concept of forever and losing things always really make me feel some kind of way ... like eden in February and that one one-shot of the guy leaving his country home for college in tokyo both murdered me bc those were basically their themes. god.

[elizabethrobertajones]

12x13 patch notes

elizabethrobertajones spent most of the episode working out how to re-write it :P

@mittensmorgul you've survived though

elizabethrobertajones yeah :D I have a good thought about fixing the ending

so we have to accept time travel is going to be fixed in this episode anyway, so they won't remember it. So Rowena and Crowley will also forget. But I think the "for Oskar!" motivation is actually kinda cool and I noticed Gavin taking the amulet back in time with him (why??) so at the end we'll see Rowena get on the bus, alone, after some token scene to show they don't remember. But she's looking at the amulet in her hand and she sort of smiles and pockets it and she maaay not remember but I think she kinda knows what it means :P maybe it has a note to self in it now just like, "you're square" but in Rowena-ese

elizabethrobertajones I'm working on the rest but I like that resolution of that arc :P 

[I mean, literally leaving the episode mostly as it was with this as a quick fix...

under the read more, the actual hard work on overhauling this monster]

mittensmorgul yeah... if none of them remember any of it because that timeline has ceased to be, (first do Sam and Dean remember, because they performed the spell and as such retain the memory like they did of the whole Titanic timeline?) and would rowena remember because she'd concocted the spell and therefore it's intrinsically linked to her (via it being "her magic" or some basic essence of her), and it's enough that Crowley just has no memory of ever having had that reconciliation with Gavin for her to feel vindicated?

Like if she can't use the whole incident to HURT Crowley directly with the knowledge she sent Gavin back to his death, it's enough to know that he also won't remember their reconciliation and be able to remember that GOOD memory either?

elizabethrobertajones yeah plus she'll get in some stings during the episode since of course they're all in the whole thing instead of 5 minutes and 2 scenes at the end :P and Gavin shows up in the cold open not the halfway point we find out how he's doing tbh I might just say no ghost, let's focus on the family drama. In which case they CAN remember Gavin because there won't be the stupid thing of undoing the damage he caused, per say

mittensmorgul yeah. I still like Cass's alternate theories for how the whole thing could've been handled in an entirely different manner, with Gavin approaching Rowena (or vice versa) throwing in the ghost out of left field was just dumb...

elizabethrobertajones If it happens naturally instead of dragging in every last MacLeod one by one, then there's more room for Rowena's plan to show up and for her and Crowley to have a go at each other

mittensmorgul there was more than enough to work with just playing up their family drama without making it ridiculous

elizabethrobertajones I mean of the other plots, I'd cut Crowley and Lucifer almost entirely just a reminder he's there doing what he did in 12x12 is enough and Crowley gets called away and I would cut down the Kelly and Dagon thing to just Kelly getting rescued and their chat happening less in random stages

I think the problem with their location and logic is never more clear than when Sam and Dean apparently break back into the museum after hours to chat with Rowena instead of just getting a motel room or meeting her on the STREET but all the bits of the plot had weird kind of location issues

I'd cut Mary and Ketch's second conversation entirely and put that dialogue in the first if we have to have it at all since 12x14 is going to deal with their relationship more

So I can chop at least 1-3 scenes from the Kelly, Lucifer and Ketch side stuff earning back like 15 minutes at least to play with

mittensmorgul It's like Buckner and Ross-Leming had separately decided where they wanted to situate the museum, neither would budge on it, and they ended up with all this weird incoherency between which location the action was happening at...

elizabethrobertajones yeah and I mean even if I was just rewriting this episode to do what it already does, THREE ghost attacks where we DON'T KNOW the victims is stupid if we get to know a cast of characters and they're picked off, fair enough but you only need a cold open and maaaybe a second death/person in threat especially in an episode where the plot and tension is all elsewhere, namely the MacLeods

mittensmorgul yeah, otherwise ONE is enough to show it's a ghost

elizabethrobertajones and that cold open should have been Gavin anyhow :P

mittensmorgul yeah.

elizabethrobertajones maybe him in a shitty apartment eating a microwave meal

mittensmorgul Pffft

elizabethrobertajones and fucking around being miserable in 2016 cut back and forth with a ghost kill :P

mittensmorgul Working at a Gas N Sip.

elizabethrobertajones or some other Cosmic Consquence YES GAS N SIP GAVIN Also i stand by the episode should have actually been about cosmic consequences >.>

OKAY so Gavin works at the Gas n Sip, gets an amusing Cas-paralleled intro there but he's fucking the fuck up being even more time period adrift than Cas who at least could magically just know how to use a phone (ish) and drive and stuff

mittensmorgul Yeah. Cosmic consequences. :P

elizabethrobertajones he wasn't HELPLESS, he just wasn't used to having to do it :P and that ALSO doubles down on the cosmic consequences coming for Cas subtext with them as a blatant parallel

heck have Gavin haunted by the ship but in a ridiculous way another ghost ship episode but he's just hearing and seeing about it everywhere because museum :P but it's driving him slightly crazy or something like Atropos but less extreme just the world trying to tell him he's not meant to be here and the time issue is really becoming an issue because he's in close proximity to his ship and there's 2 versions of history, the one where he went down with it and the one where he didn't and someone's like but what about Bobby in season 6??

mittensmorgul Like some mystical call of the sea or something, maybe the exhibit with his ring comes through town or something and it's haunting him... literally

elizabethrobertajones and then it comes out that the only way it works is if Gavin goes back and fills that role - because that was the actual Thing that got fucked up by him being in the future Oooh yeah did Bobby keep the ring? maybe he did AND didn't

mittensmorgul his own timeline catching up with him, he's having weird nightmares about being summoned as a ghost and confronting Crowley and he's terrified it's some sort of portent or whatever

elizabethrobertajones because time fuck up :P Gavin is wearing the ring Oooh yes flashbacks to 6x04 concealing Gavin because we can't see it's a different actor :P but the gist is there

mittensmorgul yeah, so he sees the exhibit, recognizes his ring, and knows something's terribly terribly wrong...

elizabethrobertajones he's remembering something he didn't do okay so the cold open is him just flipping out in the museum now :P getting evicted by security kicking and screaming and bam title card

mittensmorgul How do Sam and Dean get involved? And at what point do they call in Rowena

elizabethrobertajones I think the time anomaly must make them think there's a case but a normal ghosty one

mittensmorgul Maybe they read about the "incident" at the museum, and recognize it's Gavin from all the descriptions. They call Rowena and go after him

elizabethrobertajones weird stuff happening around the vicinity, sunken ship, seems pretty simple clearly there's an artefact of the ship that's haunted :P *tongue in cheek to the timeline that didn't happen in our reality* :P and yeah once they're interviewing the people there it's like wait this is Gavin's ship that person you had an altercation with was - and then they run into Gavin at the Gas n Sip hahahahaha

mittensmorgul YES.

elizabethrobertajones "how do we find Crowley's son in one big city?" *Gavin visible through the window behind them as they talk at the petrol pumps*

mittensmorgul But obviously the whole time paradox thing is going to create problems wherever he goes now PFFFT

elizabethrobertajones and once they meet Gavin they're like... this is a MESS, we need Rowena not Crowely? *callbacks to Dean being conflicted about 12x12* hell no :P I mean not literal flashbacks

mittensmorgul Crowley screwed them over the first time about returning gavin to his own timeline

elizabethrobertajones but he needs to be shown to be conflicted about it because he helped them yesterday but yeah back in 9x21 he was actively working against them

mittensmorgul But Rowena would do what needs to be done...

elizabethrobertajones Yeah, and that's without knowing that she wants revenge for Oskar

mittensmorgul Well, doesn't Sam kinda-sorta know about Oskar? or at least what that spell needed, and what she had to sacrifice for it?

elizabethrobertajones yeah oooh but Dean doesn't know at ALL daaang

mittensmorgul nope

elizabethrobertajones that would be fun to actually get out in the open while we're clearing up here ESPECIALLY because Sam is going to start working with the BMoL next episode

mittensmorgul That episode could've been FANTASTIC in the hands of a competent writer and I am so frustrated by it YEP.

elizabethrobertajones gosh look at all this amazing character drama we've uncovered and we're just normal randos off the street :P

Few other thoughts - obviously the episode has to end on the Mary conversation so the next can start on it Also so soon after 12x11 Rowena and Dean need another scene working together at least just like... shared looks at one point maybe she has the voodoo doll sticking out her bag and Dean glances at it something fun and subtle to bring up the "he totally remembers" thing because they were BFFs at the end of 12x11 and 12x13 completely ignored that So that would be the other thing - he would HAPPILY say "let's call Rowena!" because he likes her better now and we need little character things like that for the continuity

Also it would be hilarious if Crowley got involved earlier and to have an episode where he was technically the antagonist and it literally was "nothing personal" to Sam n Dean because it was between him and Rowena and actually use the dynamic that they've palled up with the baddies so much that Crowley comes surprise appearing in a room to stop them doing a thing and he's just like... completely chill about the Winchesters and they're so conflicted about him saving Cas they're uncomfortably chill with HIM being there which also with the right leverage on character stuff makes the tension into the Rowena and Crowley fight as long as we don't mis-use Sam and Dean :P ironically Buckleming love using them as mediators/a single unit sassing another enemy/local idiot, and they barely even used that dynamic this episode in this scenario it might actually work because they have the actual emotional investment in both Rowena and Crowley to mediate them that they didn't even have in 11x22 with God and Lucifer like the one time Sam and Dean have the actual history and character relationships to deal with being the spare people in the room competently, or to mediate and take a moral high ground without being made to look like condescending jocks like Buckleming often make them look (like talking to Mick in a few episodes :P)

mittensmorgul It actually bridges all the character and emotional gaps in 12.13 really nicely *insert WHAT LIKE IT'S HARD? gif here*

elizabethrobertajones hahahahahaha exactly all you  need to do is think about what's actually going on with the characters >.> And the order you've been given to tidy up the continuity I mean heck in the episode there's the bit where Gavin and Crowley part on bad terms because Crowley was about to snatch him away again and Gavin WANTED to go back and fix it already

mittensmorgul the problem with 12.13 is that it's trying to hard to be clever that it tosses everything else out the window in favor of being clever, and in the end even the CLEVER falls apart

elizabethrobertajones which would be a good way to have the whole "Gavin lies out of his ass to give Bobby the info he needs" thing Gavin IS pissed off with Crowley but ironically not for the reasons already explored in 9x21 of how he was raised but because Crowley was too selfish about Gavin to consider the bigger picture which HEY he's got Lucifer in his basement because he wanted revenge

mittensmorgul yeah

elizabethrobertajones rather than what was best for the world wow I literally pulled that out of my ass right now and it works I mean it was sort of in the episode already except it's SO NOT

mittensmorgul they sort of made a metacommentary out of their episode by committing the same "crime" as they wrote for Crowley...

elizabethrobertajones it's an accident of what they were writing because they were focused on completely different stuff with a token Crowley appearance for Rowena to get in her last lines >.> instead of, you know, making the entire episode about the MacLeod family drama, as it SHOULD have been.

[graveyardari97]

I need this a whole sperate post.

[https://minority-media.tumblr.com/post/165119573343/life-is-strange-bury-your-gays-and-bullshit] -read this last night.

THIS RIGHT HERE BASICALLY SUMMERIZES HOW I FELT ABOUT THE ENDING OF THIS GAME AND WHY IT DESTROYS ME ON SO MANY LEVELS!

I didn’t even know what Life is Strange was until I saw video compilation of all the worse bury your gays. I didn’t even know that was an actually trope till I show it. I was just coming off the episode where they killed off Lexa I was so sad and pissed at the same time because I recently talked about how good the show was with how they were making the Clexa relationship but that even up in flames hella fucking quickly and I stopped watching. I tried to keep watching for the other actors I liked but I couldn’t do it then I think three episode later they kill off Lincoln a black man.

Anyways, in a way, Pricefield/Amberpice/Amberpricefield kinda mirrors Clexa in a way. The two medias gives us a strong relationship between two of the main leading ladies takes their time for you to love them as individual characters and then as a couple.

To later be like all this time and effort we put into this relationship was basically for shock vault it meant nothing here’s a relationship that’s drier than my hair!

Like, how many times do you want me to kill Chloe fucking game!? There was only two choice I didn’t think twice about and that was kissing Chloe and sacrificing the town! The whole game never gave me any reason to like the town. So, why make the right ending being the one where Chloe is dead?!

And another thing, people who think you’re a terrible person for nuking a whole town that didn’t give a fuck about the character we play gets me so mad.

I made a post a while ago talking about it and it will still piss me off. I don’t know much about the writing process in video game storyboarding but as an armature fanfiction writer, I thought of five different ways this could’ve played out.

Max could’ve re-winded back to the bathroom stopped Chloe from going in. She could have gone back to early in the game and warn people of the storm [sure people will think she’s crazy but there are beached whales] Chloe could’ve texted Max back in the BtS timeline “I’m having a shit day and mom’s got a shitty boyfriend that doesn’t like me. I want to hear your voice” IDK!

I am only 19-years-old and I could come up with a better story than the train wreck that Life is Strange is oh wait I already have!

I admit that I am a shit writer but a number of people that have read my original stories and liked it. Makes me really want to adapt my stories into a TV show. Shameless plug of my own story.

The war between hunters and supernaturals has been going on for years however the newer generation has brought this century long conflict all new sorts of drama. Follow the life of Ashley Kimaru and her group of friends as they fight off her ex-girlfriend who is hell-bent on ridding the world of these demons.

Does that sound interesting to you? If not the whole group of friends are in the LGBT+ and has/have dated one another and still make jokes about it daily. Here’s a something I wrote.

A twelve-year-old Ashley was sitting on the edge of the roof eating Sea Salt Ice Cream. It was the anniversary of the death of her parents, she was doing everything she could to avoid class.

“Hey what are you doing up?” asked young Jade.

Ashley looked up at her friend. “It’s that day. I can’t believe it’s been that long.” said young Ashley bringing her knees to her chest.

Jade confused. “What the hell are you going on about?” asked Jade.

Ashley sighs. “My parent’s death,” said Ashley.

Jade fumbles. “Oh, right I forgot. I’m sorry,” said Jade.

Ashley smiled at her best friend. “It’s not your fault,” said Ashley.

“I was wondering where my girlfriend when off too. Hey, babe you okay?” asked young Kylee.

Ashley shrugs “Hey K. I’m okay I guess.” said Ashley.

Jade not having any of this. “No, she’s not. It’s the day her parents were killed so she’s up here sulking,” said Jade.

Kylee frowns. “C'mon Ashley I don’t like seeing you sad,” said Kylee.

Ashley chocks back tears.“Sorry….I just can’t get his face out of my head,” said Ashley.

Jade sits next to her best friend letting her lean her head on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault! Listen to me you were only three. You couldn’t have done anything about it. Your parents would be proud of you now. The leader of a pack.” said Jade.

Ashley giggles. “You always know how to cheer me up, Kyuubi!” said  Ashley.

Jade nugs Ashley’s shoulder playfully. “Heh-heh it’s my job to cheer you up, Tanuki. If I can’t then who can?” said Jade.

Passing Jade a popsicle stick. “I’ll have to remember that. Hey, I got you this,” said Ashley.

Jade’s eyes lit up“Holy! You got me Sea Salt Ice Cream!?” asked Jade

Ashley grinned. “I know how much you wanted to try it. I bought it for you,” said Ashley

A bit hurt that her girlfriend didn’t think about her. “What I don’t get one?” asked Kylee.

Ashley gives her an apologetic look. “Sorry, I only bought one for Jade because she’s asked me to make her one,” said Ashley.

Kylee frowns. “Oh, okay then,” said Kylee.

Kylee stood there watching as her girlfriend was sitting there laughing with her ex-girlfriend. The two of them have known each other ever since they were kids. Jade met Ashley’s parents they were good friends after all. Sitting there listening to the stories about the adventures that Ashley and Jade had before and after the tragic event was making Kylee jealous.

Jade laughed recounting a remember. “You remember when you got stuck in that tree?” asked Jade

Ashley groans. “How could I forget? You had to run home to get my mom. I was so terrified of falling.” said Ashley.

Jade nodded. “Yeah, when I burst through the door mom thought you were really hurt. She ran out the house faster than I could keep up,” said Jade.

Ashley smiled. “She worried about me. When we got home that day she wanted me to remind you that she thanks you,” said Ashley.

Jade lean against Ashley. “I couldn’t let my best friend stay stuck in a tree. Besides dad would’ve kicked my ass,” said Jade.

Ashley grinned “Yeah, my dad would’ve been pissed if he heard you left me out to dry.” Ashley laughed.

Kylee looked at her girlfriend confused. “Wait, you call Ashley’s parents mom and dad too?” asked Kylee.

Jade nodded. “We’ve been friends since we were babies and our parents were friends too. So, it was like we had another set of parents,” said Jade.

Kylee side glared Jade.“Oh, so you two were really close huh?” asked Kylee in a bitter tone.

Ashley smirked. “Heh-heh-heh that’s an understatement. Jade was my first girlfriend.  My mom thought were going to get married.” said Ashley.

“Kylee shocked by this nearly falling off the roof. “What?!” asked Kylee.

Jade sighed. “After the death of her parents. Everything wasn’t the same anymore. I tried my best to keep her together but it wasn’t working out. So, we ended things.” said  Jade.

Ashley hit her head on Jade’s shoulder “Jade, I’m sorry I didn’t call for a while after that. I was so depressed with life,” said Ashley.

Jade wrapped her arm around Ashley. “Don’t worry about it Tanuki! I know you didn’t mean to cut me out of your life,” said Jade.

Ashley smiled up at Jade.“See this is why I love you so much! You always know how to cheer me up.” said Ashley.

Jade leaned her forehead against Ashley’s. “It comes with the job description. Best friends are there to cheer one another up.” chuckled Jade.

Ashley closed her eyes. “I’ll have to remember that next time,” said Ashley.

Jade kisses Ashley’s forehead.“See you don’t have to be depressed on this day,” said Jade.

Ashley smiled. “Thanks, Kyuubi,” said Ashley.

Jade shifted her weight. “Hey, I know what will cheer you up!” said Jade.

Ashley’s ears perk up. “You mean?”

Jade grinned. “Yup! Happy birthday,” said Jade as she handed Ashley a CD case.

“You did!” freaked Ashley.

Jade stuck her tongue out at Ashley with a wink. “Look at the back,” said Jade as Ashley flipped the case to the back as she gave Jade the biggest hug ever.

Kylee feeling left out. “What did she just give you?” asked Kylee.

“I got her the “Wicked” soundtrack and it’s signed Idina Menzel,” said Jade

Ashley smiled that her face hurt. “You’re the greatest, Jade!” said Ashley.

Jade shrug sheepishly. “You want to start playing it?” asked Jade

Ashley snapped her fingers. “You wanna sing “For Good” with me?” asked Ashley.

Jade nodded. “If I get to be Glinda,” said Jade

Ashley give her friend that look that said are you really gunna ask that. “Always,” said Ashley.

“I’ve heard said that people come into our lives for a reason bringing we must learn and we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them. And we help in return. Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true but I know I’m who I am today because I knew you. Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes a sun, like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better but because I knew you. I have been changed for good.” sang Jade

“It well may be that we will never meet again in this lifetime. So, let me say before we part: So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend. Like a ship blown from it’s mooring By a wind off the sea. Like a seed dropped by a skybird In a distant wood. Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better But because I knew you.” sang Ashley

The two of them started singing the song as Kylee watched. Sitting there in complete and utter jealousy because she doesn’t know anything about Ashley or even Jade for that matter. It was that day everything went down hill for the three young girls.

I still think I’m a shit writer but I have been told otherwise. I don’t know I would love to know what you think.

Here’s to hoping one day maybe I do get this greenlit. I’m just tired of all the queerbaiting and guilt tripping these story writers are doing. They do not know what type of damage they are putting us through. I still find myself crying over Lexa’s death. And I keep thinking how sacrificing Chloe is the “good” ending of the game despite everything that Max is.

This isn’t about some fictional character dying! No, this is about how showrunners and whatever other people that want to make a story use us as shock value. It isn’t fair that there is a trope that is called burying your gays it isn’t fair that we are not looked at as being part of the fandom! Yeah, I’m looking at you Supergirl cast that mocked Supercorp and I don’t even watch Supergirl! I just want to see my story, my life being just as important as heterosexual ships. And it feels like we’re always fighting a losing a battle because people fail to see why we are so hurt.  

Dammit….now I made myself cry. I guess I’ve been holding onto that thought for a while now. It shouldn’t hurt this bad just because I’m gay. I shouldn’t have to fight to see people like me in media happy. This is the result of this trope having me yelling at my computer screen at 11:34 PM.

I just….can’t. Well, that’s my rant for today. I’m gunna get back to writing about my happy gay characters

Being gay shouldn’t hurt this much.