#I know many people on this site would love to read more about manic!

[thelediz]

Hello again! sorry I feel like I'm taxing your patience a lot just talking about Manic SORRY

I reflected more on the ask I asked and it opened up another question

What if by chance a villain influenced Manic?

Ok, Manic, even after these terrible questioning choices he made throughout the series, he is still a smart character, the problem is that he lets himself get carried away too much by emotion

which can make him become "easy prey" (which is almost what's happening in your fic) and of course, it depends a lot on the villain

Even though I said that he can be easy prey, at the same time he is not, I'm sorry, I don't want you to understand that he is very stupid and is easily manipulated, for example: manipulation like "your heart doesn't belong on this side, He's always been on this side." I don't think this will work

now, manipulating him by "messing with his ego", maybe it will work, as you said, Manic is very disrespected, which could be an opening for any villain to put the finger on Manic

"But why would a villain want to manipulate a teenager who doesn't seem to have a clue about the things he does?" because of Manic's powers

As I said in the first ask, this power is not for everyone, I have another idea that any villain who comes across these destructive powers will want a piece of it, with these powers, Manic can destroy everything whenever he wants!

the manipulation would be through compliments, which Manic hardly hears, such as "I think you're better than Sonic and Sonia" and over time this will become "You shouldn't be treated that way when you're better than they"

making it clear that I'm not talking as if this villain would turn Manic into a villain, that for me is quite impossible, the idea is that Manic is used for his plans without Manic realizing

I'm not so sure if that would work, maybe it would have a better chance if Manic was in those moments where he believes he's right but obviously isn't, then someone comes in to tell him he is

Now it made me wonder what happens to these thoughts that Manic has that leads him to do shit, he keeps it to himself and pretends it never happened? Does he secretly understand that he made a mistake but refuses to admit it openly? Does he still hold grudges about these things?

anyway, Manic seems like a lost cause, but even after all that, he's still a good person, he's just going down the wrong path (me saying this after having said several bad things about the poor boy lol)

And Aleena and Manic doing shit only this time together? When Aleena does something bad that she believes is a good deed, sometimes I think it runs in the family and has passed down to Manic lmao

I can't wait to read the next chapter. I hope you are having a great day!🩷🩷

Not annoying at all, I think it's awesome! And low-key enabling!

But on a more serious note, I think you have a story you need to write, my friend. Get on that typewriter and tell us this story of fall and redemption!

[unladielike]

Every once in a while, I'd remember @spiritpyro's Hayate mentioning in his internal monologue that he likes everything about Vivian, including even her personality and her speech patterns, which to this day, makes me emotional, because as a character, Vivian has gone through a lot... from characters getting pissed off at her for saying the wrong thing (thereby ending a thread prematurely) to characters outright not getting her humour and claiming she's unkind, even though it hadn't been her intention to offend them.

Granted, I don't really treat those as canon occurrences, because I'm not really a single verse blog, so any interactions from partners who have broken mutuals with me/deactivated/didn't follow me on my remade blog are null and void (meaning as far as Vivian is concerned, they have never occurred and will no longer be referenced in any threads/headcanon posts except for this one), but at the same time, I will lay in bed at night sometimes... and have this startling revelation that the way Vivian had been treated remarkably mirrors the experiences of most autistic people I've read about/heard from. Honestly, it's astounding to me how many on Reddit would describe similar struggles/feelings she also has, to the point where even though the RPC has a general distaste for slice-of-life muses, I still take comfort in the fact she is at least relatable.

Like, yeah, I might not be the most descriptive/poetic writer on this godforsaken site, but in my opinion, my characterization is where my writing truly shines best... and so, Hayate catching feelings for Vivian (despite me portraying both her flawed and endearing sides as a young, neurodivergent woman in her early twenties) is such a memorable thing to me, that I would find myself occasionally thinking about it even while I'm at work. I mean, granted, Vivian is nowhere near as dysfunctional as the main female lead from Asper Kanojo (That's My Atypical Girl), but it cannot be denied she is still very hard to love... to the point where Hayate pretty much fell out of love with her in an alternate universe.

Either way, it honestly hurt me on a deep, visceral level when Hayate was like, 'Fucking think before you speak', when they fought that one time, because autistic people will commonly be told that at some point in their lives... furthermore, Vivian had to hear that from someone she loves, so I can only imagine how betrayed she must have felt, especially since she already tries super hard when it comes to explaining things from her point of view and can only process her thoughts when speaking them due in part to her disability.

At the same time, though, it also makes me think that in the event Vivian and Hayate would romantically be together, this would realistically be a reoccurring issue within their relationship, where every time they would argue, she'd utter out stuff that would potentially annoy him, because according to Hayate, Vivian probably doesn't put a lot of thought into her words... so there would be instances where she would view him as an absolute alien. Still, knowing Vivian, I could also see the aftermath of their fights being one of those rare, few moments where she would wish she was more normal; after all, if she happened to be less difficult, Hayate might actually become less frustrated with her.

Since this is Hayate we're talking about, however, I could also see him potentially researching autism a bit more and slowly reaching a point where he would better understand Vivian, but either way, their relationship is one I always have fun, psycho-analyzing, because it's between an unpredictable, misanthrophic man and a manic, neurodivergent woman.

[kismetkween]

Where to begin 

I need to learn to balance and maintain the things I love and enjoy before I love something into the ground 

This is strange for me. I chose this blog and name and site, all of it 2 years ago. 1 year and 10 months to be exact. When I thought I was well and ready and going to write and ...... I was in another fit of Mania. I remember reserving all matching domain names on all socials and creating a little design and putting it all on a creator cards. I ordered 1000 and had them in a box. I showed my friends the design at my birthday party and never really touched on it again. I have never had a birthday party so successful. I invited about 40 people thinking maybe one third would come but they all came.  

You see, I had locked myself in my house for about 2.5 years. First with a family situation then the pandemic, then mental health issues and this was my coming out, my reintroduction to society. I was my fattest, at a few lbs shy of 400 and I needed something to show for what I had been doing with all that time locked away. (That was not eating and crying. ) Another issue being the first time seeing most of my friends since developing mild cognitive impairment and there was a pretty credible rumor going around that I had attempted suicide. This mostly came from the 3 months I disappeared at work and my sister being harassed with questions.  

I am riddled with duality, and I want to believe I would not love my friends dearly if they were not sweet and genuinely cared about my wellbeing.... but a magical-friendship-me and realistic-practical-me vary on whether this swell in attendance was morbid curiosity or genuine compassion. Now I know it could be somewhere in the middle. Whereas they maybe simply missed me and were not compelled to feel strongly about it either way. But what is important to remember is that, I acknowledge they did not have to come, especially after 2 years of silence from me. I am very grateful for all the people in my life. I needed them. 

I wanted to show them I was fine, and things were good, but somewhere along the line I thought I had to convince myself of these things first. The issue is though, it was not a facade. I genuinely thought this was my new life, and I was good and okay. I thought I was going to be better. In actuality, it would be another year and a half, the worst years and a complete gutting of life as I know it (and myself ... literally), before I was okay.  

I was writing and that was what was helping, and I ran with it. 

I do this a lot. I will find the one thing that is different, whatever is helping or making a small difference and I will obsess over it. I will try to perfect it and I will make so many rules for it. Over the past few years, I have determined I am not going to "fix myself" but I can try to breathe balance into more aspects of my life.  

"I need to learn to balance and maintain the things I love and enjoy before I love something into the ground." 

I did, I burnt out on writing and as much as it was helping me, it was causing me to face real, challenging, and traumatic issues on a regular basis on a recreational level. This was a very confusing time for me and when I read back it was madness. 

I have always been full of art and constantly attribute it to saving my life, but I have never been one to create anything. I really didn't know where to start and I still don't.  

At this time, I was manic and alive, and for the 1st time in a long time, I didn't want to die.  

Next post I will post a run down a timeline of physical and mental contributions to my wellbeing and my decent into madness. (link coming) 

I am also attaching a writing from my journal in 2022 addressing a strong realization that art was why I was here. 

https://kismetkweenx.wordpress.com/about

[waynetechdadoftheyear]

Words of love

Manic Panic- When I first found out I got you as my Secret Santa I was super stoked! I have fallen in love with your work time and time again as this past year has gone on through your drabbles, banter, and even our DND sessions. I am not always attentive and honestly, I have ADHD so bad that I'm not sure which browser in my head is running, how many, or where the music is coming from, but you never hesitate to welcome me into the fold and shenanigans that the Bat Fam is getting into. I value your friendship and I love how you encourage everyone's muse around you. You are such a bright light wrapped up into a Dark Knight here to save everyone from their writer's block and bullshit. I'm not the only one who feels this way and on down you will see the others that have reached out to add to my little love fest here! Happy Holidays Bat Dad. We love you and your brooding face!

J. -

God, I'm so not good at this mushy gushy stuff, BUT! It's Christmas, and part of a present, soooo…

I know I've told you time and time again how happy I am that we stumbled across each other, how grateful I am to have you as a writing partner and friend, and how incredible your writing is, but here I am, telling you one more time. (And I'll probably still tell you like a bajillion times more.) What you do? It's special. You really do have this innate ability to encapsulate Bruce's character— you give him life, and you bring a uniqueness to him through your words that cannot be replicated. And I think that comes from your own experiences on the other side of the screen. You're such a talent, and it doesn't hurt that you're so kind. And funny! That's always a win in my book.

Anyway, I don't want this to turn into a long, rambling tangent about how great you are, which it very well could, so let me just say that I adore you, I hope that you have an amazing Christmas, and I look forward to cooking up more stories with you.

Love, -J.

BOY WONDER - OKAY SO. I'M NOT SURE HOW I'M GONNA SUM UP HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU IN ONE PARAGRAPH, BUT WE'RE GONNA TRY. You are so special to me literally my best friend, the person who can make me laugh when I'm raging or wanna cry, and the one I know I can always count on to be in my corner no matter what. You're literally so talented like… sometimes I'm legit baffled by the beauty that is your writing. And now I'm not exaggerating No matter what character you're writing, whether it be a canon or oc you put every bit of that talent into them, and you dive in deep, getting to know them and expanding and it's just sdfjklsdf AWESOME okay. I love it. And I love every single connection we've ever made. Part of why I try to drag your ass around with me wherever I go but seriously. You do so much, not just for me but for everyone you come into contact with. You're generous and always quick to uplift and encourage people. And I for one would be completely lost without you. I'm pretty sure this is for your SS gift so MERRY CHRISTMAS and I love you and I can't wait to see your reaction to reading how much other people love you as well. xoxox GUNFIGHT - Bruce. Old Man. Your creativity is off the charts my guy. Reading your stuff is always an absolutely amazing experience no matter what character it is from. Your drabbles, to poetry, to replies, the writing always flows in a way no one else can match. Though some may try. But also your edits are cool af and bantering once in a blue moon is always fun. MEOWY CATMAS - Waynetech is one of the most supportive people I’ve met in this site, always encouraging others and sharing their work. He goes out of his way to make everyone feel welcome and included and he’s even nice to people who write the same character he does. This community could use more people like him.

BELIEVES IN LOVE - What can I say about Wayne Tech? They're a beautiful writer that captures Bruce so fantastically. They truly build a world and suck you right into it making you feel every last emotion and allowing for you to see the scene so well it's like you're watching a movie. They are also such a lovely friend and I'm so grateful that I've met them.

[youcantfiremebecauseiquit]

idk if u care but crispin gray recently had an interview about his entire career and it kind of changed my perspective of queenadreena…idk if for better or for worse lol. it was weird to see him so dismissive of a lot of his catalogue w katie except for ‘love your money’ just because that was the only remotely chart successful song. i get you want to be able to sustain yourself but jeez him and katie really had a weird back and forth relationship

Sorry i'm replying late, i've seen the interview pop up on Youtube but honestly i was too invested in university shit recently & generally not in the good mood for that but i'm planning to watch. How did it change your view on Queen Adreena, did he say something mean specifically on QA or Katie? I mean i gotta watch it but honestly? Not surprised in the slightest. A few years ago he was asked to describe fave songs he recorded throughout the years and he listed more of Daisy Chainsaw ones than anything else, with Love Your Money as number 1. The differences in their points of view are real something, Katie Jane absolutely HATED Love Your Money, same as Daisy Chainsaw. Kinda apparent he wanted bigger fame but DC dropped fast and QA failed to live up to their predictions.

i had a time when i liked to dig up old Queen Adreena interviews that are lost in the old internet & generally not available for years (which i planned to post on is-she-suffering but my investment in that site is... varied in its intensity). Also that was back in the days when i wrote Queen Adreena book during manic phase and tried to sell it but lost motivation Well since i don't do anything with that knowledge anyway i'll put what i know here as i love fan discussions

So they sure had/have odd back and forth love-hate relationship & that's the reason why their career went how it went. There's been a huge tension between them at some point. I'm sure you know she had a major mental breakdown (probably schizophrenic episode) after Daisy Chainsaw, or even beginning before her leaving, and then she went into isolation and lived with an old woman in Lake District for awhile. She left Daisy Chainsaw cause Crispin didn't want her to come up with her own songs (all of DC was by Crispin except for Lovely ugly brutal world by KJ).

They almost split up as Queen Adreena after Drink Me. The material for The Butcher and The Butterfly was written at different times, originally it was meant to be called Atom Bomb at Bikini but it was constantly delaying and they eventually recorded everything they've got live. So that's obvious right? But i was surprised to find out they were writing songs separately. Some of them (i forgot which though) were written by Katie Jane and Pete Howard's sons band (they're even credited) + some with Melanie Garside, Richard Adams + some other musician. Katie Jane didn't like it. They intended it to be their last album at the time. She also hated live at ICA show but they released it cause they were broke

But that's a digression. I just wanna say that at this point they were done with each other but kept pushing it. Katie had her own art projects and stuff, Crispin started Dogbones with Nomi and i just remember how vaguely pissed at Katie he waas in the interviews. Like he stressed that Dogbones is his number one priority and if Katie wants to do something with Queenadreena, she must wait til Dogbones have a break first or something, and it sounded oddly bitter.

RaCH and Djinn era are just so weird, they had opportunities but let them go in a way. I don't think many people know but they were huge demand in Japan. They entered album charts and were interviewed by 11 magazines and 6 (!)TV stations there (wtf happened to that material i want to know???). But they only played 5 times or less.

Katie said she considers the band dead but they decided they can try to play for a couple more months. But aside from that she 100% lost the interest in the band around Djinn. There's an interview where she says "the overall image is Crispin but the shape will change again at rehearsals". And you can hear it, it’s more blues rock than anything. IMO it's their worst production wise. Instruments are fine but Katie's voice is so badly produced that sometimes i find some songs fucking irritating, cause they didn’t cut out her breaths and the vocals are TOO LOUD, to the point of distorting. As if she stands too close to the mic. The album is fine but it feels unfinished.

And here we come back to Crispin... here's what he said after the QA split:

Why the Dogbones started? “I needed to work more than the previous band I was in was working, the previous band who shall remain nameless, haha… um… Queenadreena. I wanted to work more than the singer of Queenadreena wanted to work… so that’s why it started. Fine by me… but I really like to be in a band, I’m not a solo project kind of guy. The last album (‘Djin’) did come out in the UK, but it was so low key because Katie kind of disappeared so there was little point in promoting it. Personally it’s my favourite by far so it was a shame but there you go… So here are Dogbones, it’s not been an easy ride but we are trying very hard.

Ok so the bitterness is kinda apparent isn't it. I think there were two reasons why they argued so much, first musical differences. Katie at some point lost interest in loud rock music for some years and went the folk way in Ruby Throat. I have a theory that Taxidermy and Drink Me are more influenced by Katie Jane and Butcher and Djinn are more Crispin. During first albums i think Katie more actively took part in music composition and choosing arrangements. She wrote lyrics, melodies but also composed a lot of songs on some little electronic keyboard thing and 4 track (Heavenly Surrender, Pray for me, My Silent Undoing, all Lalleshwari +more). Plus she wanted more peaceful/dreamy sound on Taxidermy than full on rock, Crispin complained about it in some 00's interview, that he'd like it to be more rock. Then there are 2 versions of Drink Me, the original has rough and alt versions of songs (it was sold by Katie and it's leaked on FB and probably YT). Crispin Gray apparently really hated the final Drink Me. Now next album is The Butcher & The Butterfly and it's more standard blues rock, no more crazy dreamy things of previous albums etc., Djinn is even more blues rock but darker. Djinn was his favourite at some point while KJ hated Butcher, not sure about Djinn. So i think they had different views on where they should go, Katie made her weird simplistic creepy tunes (like Lalleshwari) and folk melodies adding that strange things to noise rock. Crispin probably wanted blues & rock.

Other than that, i’m convinced they are bitter exes, lol. There’s been rumours about them dating during Daisy Chainsaw for years, plus Katie had a history of dating band members. Crispin wrote X-ing off the days about her. I don’t know if they dated again in Queen Adreena. Then there’s this interview, timeline is unclear, either The butcher & the butterfly or later:

„Katie writes all the songs herself and often looks for melodies and structure with the drummer. With Crispin - her husband or ex-husband, which is not entirely clear to me - for almost three years she has no longer been in a room. "Sometimes we send him a letter with a new song and that's all we can do. All we have are our lungs and our musical talent and we have to do with it. It is repugnant difficult life, I know most of the time how I should deal with it." But Queenadreena will still remain even exist? "I think so, we are now pretty busy and I see where the ship aground.”

I always wondered what exactly happened after Djinn, i’ve seen Katie Jane say „i think they gave up on me” while others said she disappeared. Other times CG said there’s no bad blood between them but at the same time there’s been some weird tension.  As of recent i thought they reconnected somehow through the internet and had a good relation but who really knows.s

I get why Crispin gets irritated when people compare everything he does to „stealing from KJ” but honestly, he gave them good reasons, at least in the 90’s. I can believe Starsha Lee singer isn’t copying Katie cause she’s from Brazil or something and she didn’t know Queen Adreena before. But everything else… Crispin’s problem is that he doesn’t know what he wants. He spent 90’s chasing something, tried singing himself, had girl singer replacements and even one KJ copy. Dogbones was ironically his most original non-Katie band, even with all their grunge influences. In a way he wants to be a frontman and at the same time doesn’t. Idk if he’s very controlling, but Daisy Chainsaw shows he valued his songs/lyrics first & in Queen Adreena he had to step back a lot, cause Katie’s condition was she would be in charge of the lyrics. I don’t think he realizes how strongly Daisy Chainsaw issues affected Katie, i mean from her own words you can read that aside from media attention/hate, her being unable to write lyrics had a role in her breakdown. I think she now let go but for years she hated remembering Daisy Chainsaw and she felt kind of worthless cause she was only somebody else’s mouthpiece. I’m not trying to say he’s cruel or anything, but i firmly believe rock lyrics writers should sing their own songs or else there are problems.

They both were writers-composers with different vision and i have impression they struggled a lot while shaping their songs, cause they both stuck to their ideas. Hence 2 versions of Princess Carwash maybe. Katie once said that he „gets terribly upset with her” cause she writes her songs on a simple wind organ and uses a few chord buttons only. Clash of writer ways/personalities/egos and at some point they had to let go.

Maybe he prefers music/bands where he was 100% in control including lyrics (note he wrote/sang some lyrics in Dogbones too). Daisy Chainsaw achieved bigger success US and UK wise as they were offered to play Top of The Pops, and they’re more well liked/remembered by „general alt public”. Queen Adreena however is way more valued as a cult band, with cult following and admiration in UK & France. Most people think Pretty Like Drugs and other QA songs are his best work and he probably finds it irritating cause truth is, he never managed to be more successful than Daisy Chainsaw/Queenadreena. Love Your Money is ironically the least Crispin Gray/DC/QA sounding song in my opinion. I kinda find it irritating that he downplays Queen Adreena cause it was probably his best work in this band but whatever

So yeah sorry for the word spill, that’s what i can think of it right now but as i said, i haven’t watched the interview yet, it’s just this kind of treatment is in a way consistent for him

[whocalledhimannux]

now that I’ve had some time to reflect on Return of the Thief, I have some more thoughts that are... slightly more critical, in both the thinking-deeply and not-entirely-praiseworthy ways. I’m not going to tag this post because I don’t want to harsh anyone’s buzz, but I’ll just say return of the thief spoilers and rott spoilers right now, and hopefully the blacklist will catch those, and if not the rest of the post is going under a cut

okay so like first off, I want to say that I still think this was a very well-written book and it’s very satisfying from a character standpoint. there are so many great interactions, indications of growth, etc, and the layered writing of the first person POV is, as always, stunning. my main character complaint is not enough Costis and Kamet (or Costis/Kamet)--but even that, upon reflection, I think is colored slightly by my anticipation for a blatant Comet moment. When you’re waiting for a big payoff, and the story isn’t designed to have that, it’ll feel like a bit of a letdown. But from a different perspective, the ending of TaT can be a perfectly satisfying narrative ending, establishing that Costis and Kamet’s storylines are now thoroughly and primarily wrapped up in each other; their contributions to the wider plot from thereon out are mostly incidental, because sailing off to be together is their bigger ending.

side note: a character development I actually loved was us seeing Eugenides teetering dangerously close to a breaking point and being pulled back. I think...... from what I have seen of the fandom in general--bearing in mind I was never a part of Sounis and have dipped in and out of the discord without being majorly involved--based on my general impression of the tumblr fandom, I think there is a tendency among QT fans to let the Thief characterization of Gen affect our reading of him in later books. I think there’s sort of an assumption that he’s everybody’s favorite and that his choices are, by default, correct and sympathetic, even as the series progresses and he makes more, increasingly difficult and sometimes pragmatic or even cruel decisions. and I think RotT really, really challenges that kind of view. Eugenides is under immense strain in this book, and several times he lashes out in ways that are indefensible. Sometimes, even if he’s not being cruel to others, he’s being risky to the point of masochism, and the revelations about his backstory also suggest that quirky innocent Gen of The Thief is also not all he seemed to be.

and I think that was resolved in a very enjoyable and narratively satisfying way. The threats to the Braels had a real edge to them. God!Eugenides was terrifying, in a noticeable step up from the ways regular!Eugenides is terrifying, and it felt like payoff for the increasing role of the gods in Eugenides’s storyline up until now. And I really appreciated the subtleties of Sejanus saying that he won’t tell Eugenides the conspirators because it will damage him in the longrun, and the way Eugenides ultimately decides to forgive and trust Pheris and Sejanus anyway--those scenes, imo, were great followups to the scenes in QoA, KoA, and ACoK that discussed how rulers can maintain their moral center in difficult situations.

but... the Medes. plot-wise, I’m struggling with the conclusion to this storyline.

I made a different post already about What the Fuck is going on with the secretary of the archives, because it totally feels like shit is missing there, and to some extent I’m okay with that? it felt to me like a stylistic choice--like, Pheris the historian is writing specifically about the Mede invasion, so maybe the full story of Baron Orutus, and Relius, wasn’t actually resolved til years later and he thought it was an overlapping but ultimately separate story. fine. I actually did kind of like the parts where that was done more blatantly, like his comment that two of the queen’s attendants became famous later on for unrelated reasons. it helped with the framing of the story.

but I don’t feel that way about the Medes plot. For one thing, we’ve spent a couple of books now harping on the fact that Ghusnavidas (sp? I’m tired and my book is too far away to check, y’all know who I mean) is dying and that the primary threat is going to come from Nahuseresh’s brother, Naheelid. Costis made a point of saying last book that if the Little Peninsula could hold out for a year against Naheelid, not only would they win but the entire empire might be in danger of collapsing.

So... they spent ~a few months fighting a single army at a single battle site, with the Big Threat Guy not even present, and that’s it? everybody goes home and the Medes aren’t a threat anymore? it’s not even clear to me how many troops the Medes lost--their principal losses were in the form of Bu-seneth, Nahuseresh, and Baron Erondites, who, yeah, were key officers, but if the Medes lost, saying, 30% of their troops or less, what’s to stop Naheelid from hiring more soldiers and better officers and coming back in a year? it totally makes sense to me that an army that saw Eugenides call down lightning is willing to pack it up early, but inevitably that’s going to be dismissed as rumor and distortion so idk how it’s supposed to be a lasting deterrent. it may not be super realistic, because the downfall of empires takes time, but I think a bunch of us were expecting that the Mede Empire would, at the very least, but conclusively beaten by the end of the book, and I don’t think we got that.

Also, speaking of Big Bads: Nahuseresh. Oof.

I know part of the point of TaT was that Nahuseresh’s situation was becoming kind of sad and pathetic but... I think he went downhill too quickly in this book. and tbh I think part of it is the fact that we’re getting this from Pheris’s POV, and Pheris for one doesn’t have a whole lot of close contact with Nahuseresh in this book, and for another didn’t have any contact with him prior to this. His little “I will be king of Attolia!” outburst honestly made me cringe a little bit, and while I’m not entirely opposed to the idea of Nahuseresh being killed by an anonymous soldier--it has a very “reality ensues, war isn’t a series of epic meaningful confrontations” feel to it--I do object to the fact that Eugenides spent a significant amount of time in KoA and ACoK nursing a grudge against Nahuseresh and then barely got to do anything with it. and a lot of what he did get to do, the reader barely sees.

I think there were ways to make Nahuseresh’s actions in this novel a bit more satisfying without fundamentally changing them. for example, bringing in more commentary from people who knew him before. if there was a passage where Eugenides looked at Nahuseresh and realized that his beard was raggedy, and he looked thinner, and there was a manic light in his eye and he just seemed pretty pathetic and honestly more comical than the villain Gen’s been building up in his head for years--I think that would go a long way towards establishing tone. it would feel more like the anticlimax is intentional and be more about Eugenides’s own character growth, whereas now it just feel like... Pheris doesn’t have a whole lot of personal stake in this conflict even though the reader has been waiting for it for so long.

(although I do find it interesting on a narrative level in contrast with Sejanus, who seems disproportionately important in this book imo--from my perspective, the threat of Nahuseresh has been a constant behind-the-scenes presence for the last four books and Sejanus stopped being important after KoA. and I get why the opposite would be true for Pheris, but I still... want more.)

anyway, I just feel like the villains in this book are a little--warped, somehow. like the huge enormous threat of the series up until this point actually isn’t all that bad and can be wrapped up in relatively little time. it’s a weird sensation for me wherein I’m glad where everyone ended up and I enjoyed the experience of getting to that end, but like... it just feels a little off. slightly anticlimactic. I mean, for a lot of us this series is All About the characters and from that perspective I’m mostly satisfied, but I feel like in previous books the plot has come together SO well that my expectations were really high, and this resolution didn’t really meet them.

and damn does it feel strange to be writing this. feels like I just cobbled together a few of my hottest and most controversial takes and like I need to throw in about twenty more disclaimers about how much I love the books overall, but I’ll resist.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.04

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It was amazing just how quickly Nairi got used to waking up and finding texts from Cherry waiting for her.

Cherry seemed to be up and on at all hours of the day; she was awake in the morning well before Nairi’s eleven o’clock alarm, but also worked well into the small hours of the night and put in long hours at the day job. Nairi had managed to ascertain that it had something to do with art—Cherry had strong opinions on grades of paper (something about absorbency), colour theory (people were stupid), watercolours (they were bad), and on the one occasion she’d come upstairs had informed Nairi that her walls were driving her mad and that she’d be painting something to stop the encroaching insanity.

When she wasn’t inserting herself into Nairi’s life she was sending Nairi pictures and selfies with her other friends; grad students with brightly coloured hair, a grinning bartender showing off his flair, baking with a short woman in glasses. And now this:

C: youre closed on tues y/y?? C: which means yourf free tonight right?

Nairi sent her back a quick “yes” and set her phone down before pulling herself out of bed to face the day. Not opening the dojo meant she was able to take a little longer with her morning, but she still preferred to do her prayers before she had to think about anything else, and Cherry was prone to showing up if Nairi indicated she had free time. Which she apparently had a lot more of than she realised.

Maybe she should look for a new style to start training in. This was the first time she hadn’t been focused on a new one since she… Well, for a while.

When she came back upstairs her phone was lit up again. Maybe Cherry had ideas about lunch? It would mean she’d have a reason to go out and eat something.

C: great!! C: dn you wanna come out tonight?? dinner C: on me if i need to sweeten it ;) edies just moved back fr work and if its just me her and nick im go6na die from them being old folks who disapprove all night C: also i keep talking about you at nick and he wants to meet you lol

Nairi had initially assumed ‘Nick’ was Cherry’s father, just based on the way she talked about him. But then Cherry had mentioned her father later, just calling him ‘Dad’, so maybe he wasn’t? Either that, or she was very discreet about their being gay. Or she just went back and forth between ‘Dad’ and ‘Nick’ arbitrarily. ‘Edie’ on the other hand was a name Cherry had mentioned in passing once and then never again, so Nairi had concluded she was one of the colourful grad students. Apparently not.

She sent back a “sure”, and then after a moment, asked for a place and time.

C: yay!! thank you!! C: its this fckn italian place edie loves but theres a ok bar so not all bad C: edies fatal allergic to being on time but nickll be 7 minutes early

The next message was a sticker, a little pair of eyes rolling across her phone screen when she opened it.

C: meet at 7? C: i checked the menu has good veg C: pasta heavy but good :p

Nairi smiled a little at that and sent her another “yes”. After a moment she added a “thank you”. Cherry sent her back three hearts, and Nairi put her phone down to go and get some lunch.

She didn’t think anything of it until she showed up at the restaurant. Cherry had driven and was already parked, leaning against the side of her obnoxious little two door to wait. It was bright red and nearly vintage, and she’d obviously put a lot of care into it. Nairi had half expected vanity plates, but they were a normal registration.

Nairi waved as she approached and Cherry visibly perked up with a wide, glossy smile, waving back. Cherry had dressed up a little nicer—dark skinny jeans and a pretty sleeveless shirt with a modest v-neck. The heavy Docs were gone, traded for heeled ankle boots, and she had delicate pearl bob earrings to match her golden cross. Not a paint spatter in sight.

“Hi,” she said as Nairi drew to a halt just out of arm’s reach. “Didn’t we pick an interesting night to go out?”

“We sure did,” said Nairi, her brow furrowing as she looked past Cherry to the road between them and the restaurant. “What the hell is going on?”

The stretch of asphalt was filled with a flock of young adults, all of them shirtless, yelling along together in an incomprehensible chant as they ran up and down between two unmarked points on the road. They were arguably being directed; a young woman with a reflective coat and a manic grin, holding a megaphone in one hand and an airhorn in the other, was standing on a shopping cart in the middle. Standing next to her on the ground, was another woman in reflective orange with a clipboard.

Judging by the amount of honking and the lack of anything resembling city signage, this wasn’t an official event.

Cherry glanced down at her phone as one of the women held up the airhorn to the megaphone. Charitably she waited for Nairi’s ears to stop ringing before she spoke. “Flo did a round on the facebook pages—apparently it’s some dorm flash mob from a hall at her college.”

“Which one’s Flo? Did she have the blue hair?” asked Nairi as she lowered her hands from her head and gladly pulled her attention away from a panting eighteen-year-old who had something pink painted on his heaving chest.

“Nah that’s Mason, he’s finishing up his sociology honours. Flo has the green hair, she’s doing her psych PhD,” said Cherry, craning her neck to look around Nairi. “Nick’s here! Right on time, like I said.”

She started waving, and Nairi turned to see the tallest man she’d ever seen waving back across at them. She raised an eyebrow, the muscles in her forearms tensing, and she tried not to feel too uneasy about it.

Cherry hummed happily, picking herself up from where she was leaning on the car door and reaching in through the open window to grab a thin cardigan from the seat. “Oh, and just a heads up,” she said casually, “Nick like, really hates it when people call me Cherry, it’ll probably be better if you just use my real name in front of him.”

Nairi opened her mouth to remind her that she’d never actually gotten around to saying what the was exactly, but Cherry was already halfway across the lot towards the man. “Nick!” she called out as she approached, closing the distance and leaning up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

He said something to her, pausing to hug her back before continuing over to Nairi. He drew to a halt next to her while Cherry returned to perching against her car. “You must be Nairi,” he said, voice alarmingly deep, hand outstretched. “Linden’s told me so much about you.”

Nairi took his hand and shook it once before dropping it, resisting the urge to take a step back once she’d done so. “Likewise. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Nicholas was close to seven feet tall and probably in his late fifties or very early sixties if she was any judge. His hair had landed firmly in the ‘grey’ zone just past salt-and-pepper, though he’d managed to keep rather a lot of it, close cropped in a very standard short back and sides. He had broad shoulders and a carefully ironed shirt that looked worn but cared for. He had a firm grip, muscle swelling ever so slightly in the lines of his shirt, and there was a furrow in his brow that made him look deeply concerned about something.

Though, from what she’d learned being friends with Cherry—Linden—if she were an older adult in her life she’d probably be deeply concerned as well. Or maybe it was the students.

“Do either of you know what’s going on here?” he asked after a moment, nodding at the crowd.

“Youthful hijinks keeping us from our dinner,” said Linden, grinning easily. She’d released some of the tension in her shoulders since Nicholas’s arrival, but at the same time seemed a little more on edge, like she was anticipating something. She took a deep, exaggerated breath, and pushed her hands into her jean pockets. “Do you know what that smell is?”

Nairi exchanged a faintly puzzled look with Nicholas, though his looked a little more exasperated. “Cheap beer?” she tried.

Linden sniggered. “Yeah, we called it ‘Eau de Freshie’ when I was in school,” she said, tossing her head to give the students behind them a speculative, almost mean look. They were still yelling enthusiastically, and she gestured at them. “It’s no longer funny, anyway. How many of these assholes do you reckon I have to beat up to let us get through?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t need to come to that,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching a little at the side.

Nicholas shot her a grateful look. “From the looks of things someone has already called the police, I’m sure they’ll be dispersed presently,” he said with a nod towards a pissed off looking woman standing by the crosswalk, phone jammed up against her ear.

“The cops always take fucking forever,” complained Linden, running a hand through her hair, foot tapping impatiently. “Come on Nick, you actually like, made a reservation and now we’re gonna miss it.”

“Linden I’m reasonably certain the staff can see what’s happening from where they’re standing,” said Nicholas, irritation creeping into his tone. “A little patience will not kill you, please do not start a fistfight with a teenager.”

Linden grinned at him, stretching her arms out in front of her chest. “I’m like, pretty certain the one with the airhorn is at least twenty.”

“Linden.”

“Well, I mean,” said Nairi speculatively, eyeing the students. “All you really have to do is be flashier than them.”

One of the running students fell out of pitch with their friends, and someone complained in her peripheral. A car door slammed and there was the crunch of footsteps on gravel followed by a huff as someone else joined the spectators. Linden turned her grin back to Nairi. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, stepping up to Linden and reaching past her into the car window.

The other items she wanted were on the front seat, and Linden’s grin only widened as Nairi pulled them out. The baseball bat was wooden and well used, with a long crack threatening to split it clean open and letter stickers in the world’s ugliest font spelling ‘LINDE’ down the length. There was a clean spot amongst the built-up grime under the ‘E’. The bottle of lighter fluid was about half full, and Nairi held the bat out in front of her to squirt the contents over it liberally, splattering the asphalt in front of them as she did so.

She reached around Linden, extending the same familiarity she’d been receiving from her for the last two weeks, and pulled the lighter out of her back pocket.

The bat lit up easily and Nairi twisted it around to hold it upright, offering it to Linden. Linden looked at her, wide eyed, and took the bat. She placed her other hand on Nairi’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You get me,” she said with warmth, before throwing her head back and cackling loudly, sprinting towards the crowd of students with the bat raised over her head.

Nicholas, next to her, made a faint, strangled noise. Behind her was a scoff and a loud voice. “Well. I’m guessing you must be Nairi.”

She turned and came face to face with an older woman in a rumpled men’s dress shirt and glasses who was glaring at her. She had red hair, natural as opposed to Linden’s box dye, and it was plaited out of the way to keep her tired face clear. Grey blue eyes stared down Nairi under her stern brow, and she uncrossed her arms to step forward into Nairi’s personal space. She was stocky and only a little shorter, barely having to raise her chin. “Just for reference,” she said, tone acerbic, “If I hear a single piece of news about young adult burn victims in the local urgent care facilities tomorrow? I will track you down and hold you personally responsible.”

She stepped away without waiting for an answer, glare sliding over to Nicholas. “You’re so right, Nicholas, I can see how much of a model presence she is,” she said in a way that even Nairi could read the sarcasm. “You remain a uniquely terrible judge of character.”

She strode across the street in the wake of Linden’s chaos. The students had mostly scattered with cheers and yells, and the girl with the megaphone was doubled over laughing in her shopping cart.

Nicholas was very slowly turning red, staring at Nairi with an unreadable expression. She coughed slightly and spun on one foot to follow the others across the street, trying to swallow her irritation at their judgement.

[ellaintrigue]

I need my peace.

I've struggled with PMS on and off for years, and let me tell you, PMS mixed with PTSD is so rough. I've heard of women getting murderous with that type of shit but I can still rationalize, fortunately. The first day of it I'm mad, the second day I'm emotional, the next day mad, etc., and it lasts about 5 days until I bleed.

My mother tells me to not discuss health issues in blogs or when I talk to men. She tells me to be less emotional, and not cry, especially in front of people. I've never wanted to cry in front of people, and in fact, I barely cry at all, but during PMS + high levels of stress it does happen. And sometimes I just cry and let it out and feel better. When my grandmother lay dying in hospice I got choked up and my mom turned to me and snapped, "DON'T START THAT" and I felt so trapped and miserable. My grandmother was doped up with her eyes rolling up in her head and gasping breaths from her heart failing and it was very hard to watch. And I may be a coward but I honestly would have felt better if I could have just cried a little. Not sobs but just some tears. After I left that day I bawled my ass off in my Oldsmobile. She'd never tell me to stop.

I hate censorship. I hate people saying racist things, gay-bashing, and calling women bitches and hoes, but when it comes to raw emotion and expression, where is the harm? Am I hurting someone that reads this, in admitting that I cry? In admitting I have period problems? In showing my body? I'm just... a human. A messy, scarred up, bubbly, angry, happy, sad, fucked up human. I can't write about happy beautiful things every day because that's not realistic and I don't want to.

Yesterday was eventful and also full of emotion, but not a negative day. I stayed up until 10 PM which is rare for me, and didn't eat. I last ate at 1 PM and woke up this morning starved and weak.

I definitely have some PMS still, and, any day, I want to lay in bed for 15 minutes after I wake up, either with my eyes closed or while listening to some music. I seriously need that little pause before I start my day, but some days IT IS. SO. HARD. TO GET.

I woke up shortly after 5:30 this morning, stretched, and did some thinking over the events of yesterday. I was in a good mood. Then I hear FaceBook messenger go off twice. Okay, whatever. I should turn the notifications off for the night but it's just too much to remember and fuck with somehow. I wish people would just not message me between 9 PM and 7 AM lol. But I do enjoy talking to my cousin, and let her know I had to go soon because I hadn't eaten in 16 hours.

Then the cats start slamming at my bedroom door, my dad texts me, my friend Trent dings messenger, and I'm just like, holy shit. Then my cousin mentions this gentleman she keeps saying I should talk to. I said if he wants to say hi, he can. She initially marketed it as the guy worked a lot and needed friends. You know, whatever. She first brought it up two months ago, then brought it up again today.

I'm not judging, not trying to complain about my cousin trying to be nice to me, but I talk to a loooottt of people. If someone wants to say hi to me, they can, but regardless of whether this guy wanted a friend or someone to date, I'm going to be more focused on people my own age. I know so many people over 40 that I really just want people under that and he appeared to be 50. For a while I had trouble finding friends so I participated in a social site outside of FaceBook and now talk to whoever from wherever. I also find men to talk to sometimes, to see if there's a dateable connection, but that isn't something I put much pressure on at this time.

I was involved with someone amazing mid-pandemic and am capable of getting men, it's just not something I'm going to write about or tell everyone. I think people have the misconception that because I'm a survivor of violence and a feminist that I have trouble dating but that's more my own pickiness. When I whine about dating scene things I'm just blurbing and blowing off steam, not exuding desperation. It would be lame to blog about who I'm actually talking to at the moment and spoil things. I do not need people making connections for me. 🤷‍♀️

I finally excuse myself from my talk with her, close off my computer, and leave my phone upstairs to do chores. Put my two male cats in their kennel while I clean their box, clean the old cat's box, and she whirls around my legs. She's become increasingly manic after developing a skin allergy to dry cat food. She's fine now physically but just constantly underfoot, trying to bite me all the time and generally being annoying as fuck. She has always had severe behavioral issues but this takes the cake. She wants the dry food so I try to give her a little bit throughout the week but yesterday she just woofed it down, puked it up then begged for more. That night she tried to bite my legs repeatedly. This morning she didn't want the vet-recommended wet food and tried to trip me and bite me the whole time I was trying to do chores.

I hurt my left foot so I'm having trouble moving it and I have to juggle that to avoid her, then I go outside and the black cat walks in front of me and stops and tries to sit on my feet over and over. Oh my God, I love all of them but I honestly don't know how people have kids and shit, they drive me fucking crazy. My ex's dog even drove me crazy, I hate noise in the morning, being tripped in the morning, my phone going off in the morning, people in the morning. It all drives me batshit crazy.

This is my own making since I have 4 cats because I had so many pets with my ex, and as I've mentioned before, I won't have more than 2 animals at a time after these eventually age and pass over the rainbow bridge. Anyway, this is my blurb for the week. I haven't had time to blog photos or do anything I want to do in days, it's all been work, family drama, and tons else.

Maybe one day I'll have a nice morning without noise, bullshit, and two-legged and four-legged creatures getting on my fucking nerves. Lol!

[hqolympia]

chicago’s very own 𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄 has been spotted on madison avenue driving a chevrolet corvette z06 , welcome ! your resemblance to 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒏 is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 , but being 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆 might help you . i think being a 𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊 explains that .  3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 ,  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 . 

hi ,  peachy !  my  name’s  char  &  that  smile  of  yours  is  making  my  heart  melt !  🥺 allow  me  to  introduce  u  to  my  fren  over  here !

full name :  olympia  giselle  hargrove

nickname :  oly ,  pia  (tho, the latter one is reserved for her grandmother)

date of birth :  may  22nd , 1997  (23) 

birth place :  chicago , il

sexual orientation : pansexual

occupation :  competitive diver

labels :  the  crimson  /  the  icarian

𝐢.  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

one :  picture a little girl with bright blue eyes, pigtails bouncing with every step she takes as a grin makes its way upon her face . she seems happy ---- and in the moment she truly is, despite the fact that the people she needs the most, her parents, are a few thousand miles away and aren’t here to see olympia say her first words or take her first step. she is too young to understand --- honestly, too young to even think about the reasons why they left her.

two :  she is a little bit older now, a full-on eleven years old --- taller, thinner and, most importantly, rowdier. she has quite a few friends, although they all seem to be having picnics with their barbie dolls and sleepovers dedicated to watching princess movies whereas olympia wants to run around and jump all over the place. the girls just don’t seem to match her energy, the boys aren’t exactly welcoming towards her, having this stupid, “ew, but you’re a girl!” mindset. she just wants to find something for herself, something that will keep her interested for longer than three hours ---- that something turned out to be diving.

three :  it’s a few years later, and now she’s standing at the 10m platform. it’s her last dive, and she needs to get it exactly right to win the gold medal. olympia would honestly be lying if she said her legs weren’t shaking because of how nervous she was --- but there’s a camera right in front of her face, therefore she has to keep it together. she turns around, takes one last breath, and then she’s up in the air. fifteen seconds later she’s fully submerged into water ----- and fifteen minutes later she has tears coming out of her eyes. she did it. she’s the world champion now.

four : it’s exactly a year later, and a lot has changed. olympia finds herself in the sunny city of rio de janeiro where she’s come to compete in her first olympic games --- which is exactly what she’s always been meant to do, judging by the name her parents gave her. except this time she’s nervous for an entirely different reason --- she’s now a successful athlete, this season’s leader and the one to watch out for. she’s the reigning world champion, for god’s sake, so she has to prove every single person out there she didn’t win on an accident. a lot of things seem to be going wrong; from oly flubbing her first dive to her coach coming up to her before her final one to say that her parents have showed up at the arena. eventually she finds herself in the same exact position as she did back in Russia ---- her palms are sweating, her legs are shaking, but there’s no turning back. the only way is down, so she has to dive one way or another. a jump, two somersaults, a twist ----- she’s back in the pool, and as she immediately drowns in the roar coming from the audience, tears start coming out of her eyes. she did it again. she’s lived up to her name.

five :  ever since she got back home, her life has completely changed. interview after interview, a campaign after a photoshoot, an event after the other ---- all of that mixed in with her training routine has it ups and downs. her schedule keeps her busy yet there’s something missing. she’s looking everywhere in the hopes of finding that missing piece, and at some point she feels like she’s found it in the face of a stranger who ends up in her bed that night. it brings her a sense of serenity, that lasts a few weeks ---- but olympia knows it’s all too good to be true, and it’s proven to be that way as she stumbles upon a certain page on a random night. it doesn’t seem real at first, but when she spots a tattoo on the girl’s ribcage, a realization hits her ---- she’s plastered all over porn sites, and that particular video featuring her has generated a few million views in a span of two months. she doesn’t remember the night at first due to her drunken state, but she recognizes her bedroom, particularly a personalized louis vuitton gym bag sitting in the corner. details like that help her piece the night together, and from that point on there’s nothing but fear of it all coming out and ruining her career.

𝐢𝐢.  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀

basically ! this intro is all over the place so here are some bullet points to get u up to speed !

oly was born in chicago but grew up and spent most of her time in toronto with her grandmother, since her parents were setting up their business overseas. they were coming by to visit her maybe once or twice a year, so she isn’t as close with them.

she is a competitive diver (a quite decorated one bc .... why wouldn’t she be 🥺🥺🥺)  representing canada bc of her upbringing despite the fact that she now lives in new york (she moved here in 2017, after the rio olympics)

astrology wise, she is a gemini sun cancer rising .... so sorry to all of u for this

her placements mean that she is quite creative, capricious and may appear manic sometimes --- but really she is just downright STUPID bc she is always trying to get her ass into trouble. like, you can’t even imagine how many times her coach had to drag her out of the mess she got herself into ... 

she is very much about having sympathy for others and helping them and whatnot, but unbeknownst to her, these tendencies can be explained by the “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” mindset. she has to keep her act straight, so getting onto someone’s bad side isn’t in the cards for her --- god knows what kind of shit she may end up in now that she’s a part of ... this world of glamour and fame, u kno?

olympia also really loves to talk, preach, argue --- just do whatever to be heard

in her free time (the time when she doesn’t feel like wreaking havoc tbh) she usually cooks deserts (vegan banana pudding? blackberry sorbet? key lime cheesecake? u want it, u got it!), reads books (painted veil by somerset is her ultimate FAV) and ... drives around town whilst listening to some cheesy music 🥺 

other than that her usual routine consists of training, clubbing and messing shit up due to the chaotic stupid personality !

𝐢𝐢𝐢.  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

i promise this intro won’t be that long ... after this ! 🤠🤠🤠these are just the few ideas i can get off the top of my head so ... there’s always room for brainstorming ! :-)

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃 / close friends --- everybody needs some sort of a support system in their life, and oly is no exception to this rule. she’s never really had a big family, therefore she’s always surrounded herself with people in the hopes of filling the empty space in her heart. and honestly, if it wasn’t for these people, she would’ve quit diving right after winning the olympics, moved to the suburbs of toronto and just lived a quiet life --- but the pride for her friends just gives her enough motivation to move further and become better.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 / best friend --- we all have that someone who’s impossibly close to us; who we cannot imagine our lives without. the bond is so crucial to them both parties that it feels as if there’s never been a moment without each other. the general public and tabloids, though, feel as if there’s more going on and will not stop nagging them about the details.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 / friends drifted apart / exes --- as weird as it is, oly is very much a yolo person. in addition to that, she has a ton of love and devotion for every single person she’s ever had in her life no matter what happened between them or what caused them to drift apart. though, her ever-changing nature is known to drive people away which, tbh, happens to be a blessing and a curse -- it helps oly sort of “filter” through her circle of friends, but then again, if someone enters her life, they leave and undeniable impact on it. therefore, she misses whoever left her life more than they could ever imagine.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 / rival (?) --- olympia isn’t perfect in any way, shape or form. she knows that, but most importantly, the public knows that and will not stop critiquing every little thing that she does. this person, though, is the exact opposite - the public LOVES them to the point where even olympia’s parents would probably say things like “ugh, i wish you could be more like that!”. this makes the relationship between the two quite ... strained. because as much as olympia may love them as a person, there’s always this lingering sense of jealousy that just enables her petty side.

𝐢𝐯. 𝐎𝐎𝐂

ok so ! if you’ve reached this part of my intro ... i cannot thank u enough bc this ?? this is long as HECK but i wanted to actually try and describe the kind of muse i envision in my head. i love u all a latte & if u feel like plotting w/ my dumb kid, leave a like on this post or feel free to mssg me on discord under futurenostalgias#1692 🤠sidenote tho: i’ll probably get to the mssgs in a few hours seeing as i have a few assignments to complete and i’m sorta braindead ... love u , cannot wait to write w/ u ! xoxo ur friendly neighborhood trash char  

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Wisdom - Drakgo Fic

Shego needs her wisdom teeth removed and Drakken takes care of her.

Very minor lime content. 

TAG LIST (based on who interacted with my tag list post. If you were added by mistake or not added at all, please let me know!)

@sweet-or-sarcastic // @anavrp // @sophiecooper18 // @random-emerald-thoughts // @benjimators // @marvelousavengfulslytherin // @littlevirago // @evielovesfood // @dianenguyenbjh // @brianaisontheinterwebs // @saultnpeppah // @poisonivy123

Shego was used to pain. Growing up with brothers usually meant roughhousing. After the comet hit, her pain tolerance only increased. She fought an entire battle with Kim Possible with a broken clavicle and shoulder before she noticed, or rather, Drakken noticed how her arm didn’t look right. She has fallen from great heights, been electrocuted, punched, kicked and stabbed more times than she could count. Yet, she stands.

Luckily, again thanks to the comet, she heals quickly, requiring very minor medical intervention. Usually, she’s back at it in a day or so. All her shoulder and clavicle needed was to be set properly and it was healed by the end of the week.

So, when the back of her gums began to hurt, she ignored it.

For many people, Shego can be mysterious and aloof. After many years of knowing her, Drakken began to see the minor tells she gave away. If she’s upset, she can be found curled up reading the same book, The Awakening by Kate Chopin. He’s probably seen her read it five times, she must have it memorized. When she’s angry and not wanting to express it, the radio in her car would be turned to deafening levels. When she was thinking about her father, she listened to Fleetwood Mac. Shego is a meat and potatoes kind of girl, so when Drakken saw his wife avoiding certain foods, including her very favorite and very dark chocolate bars, he knew something was up.

“Steph, when was the last time you saw a dentist?” Drakken asked as Shego struggled with a bowl of cereal and fruit.

“Last year.” She countered proudly, knowing she had him. You weren’t much of a superhero/villain sidekick/whatever the heck her job description was now if you didn’t take care of yourself.

“Great, then you’re due for a checkup!” Drakken beamed.

“Wait, what? Oh, damnit!” She yelled, banging her fist on the table, the dinnerware clattering. She didn’t have him.

“Make yourself an appointment,” Drakken said kissing her temple.

Shego put it off for a more days before the pain in her gums became just shy of unbearable. Begrudgingly, she scheduled an appointment with her dentist/orthodontist that she had been seeing for years.

~*~

Drakken was in his lab typing up a proposal for GJ to let him build a Hadron Collider, (did he think he would get one? Probably not, but a man can dream) when his phone rang.

“Yello!” He answered, leaning back in his chair.

“Do you have a couple of days you can take off?” It was Shego and she sounded defeated.

Drakken looked over his shoulder at his latest project. He resurrected a Spinosaurus he named Paul and they did not get along. Paul was curled up on a dog bed meant for a Great Dane and happily chewing on what was a shark thirty minutes ago.

“I’ve got some free days. What’s wrong?” Concern laced his voice.

“It’s my wisdom teeth. All four need to be removed. Tomorrow morning. They’re impacted or something. I need someone to take care of me.” Shego struggled with that last bit. She never enjoyed asking for help.

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask.”

“Thanks,” Shego said before she hung up. Drakken wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t often he got the full, ‘love you, bye’ call, especially when she was upset.

That night, as Shego sat at the dining room table, she read her instructions aloud as Drakken prepared dinner.

“‘For the sedation, you need to be fasting.” She read, “Nothing past midnight before your surgery. You are prescribed half of a fast-acting anti-anxiety pill to keep your nerves down prior to surgery.” She held the nearly empty bottle in her hand, “Take it before you leave home with as little water as possible. Plan to be on bed rest for a few days. No driving until you know how the painkillers effect you. No hard, sticky or crunchy foods, no straws’, blah blah blah. This sounds horrible.” Shego ranted, wanting to burn the papers.

Drakken chuckled, “No one said it would be fun,” he said as he served her.

“I know that you idiot.” She scowled.

“Eat up. You have to fast.” Drakken grinned, pushing her plate a bit closer.

The next morning, Shego came down the stairs in comfy clothes, no makeup and her black hair pulled back. She brushed, rinsed and flossed her teeth as best she could, per her dentist’s instructions. She wasn’t looking forward to the no brushing rule for the next few days to prevent dislodging the blood clots at the surgical sites.

Drakken felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw that she was wearing one of his sweaters. It engulfed her svelte frame, but oh, it did things to him.

He got her a glass of water with barely any in it for her pre-surgery medicine.

“Bottoms up,” Shego said as she placed the pill on her tongue and swallowed it without the water.

Damn, he thought, she’s still so cool. Cooler than he could ever be.

“Let’s go!” Drakken said cheerfully, hoping to ease any nerves she may have. Shego only smirked as she grabbed her purse headed out the door.

Drakken got into the driver’s seat. “Seatbelt.” He chided Shego.

Shego rolled her eyes and put her seatbelt on. She knew he wouldn’t drive off if she didn’t.

The effects of the medication hit her quickly. She fought to stay awake on the way to her appointment.

Drakken noticed but didn’t think much of it until they arrived.

“Drew…” Shego called as he got out of the Jeep.

He came around to the passenger side and found her hanging onto the door, her legs useless. “I can’t walk.”

Drakken threw her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her into the office.

“I must be a lightweight,” Shego said, her voice soft with drowsiness.

“You’ve never done anything?” Drakken asked skeptically, “Even I have smoked pot.”

“No!” Shego slurred, “I was a teen superhero and my dad would have killed me!”

After struggling to open the door to the clinic and keeping Shego secure, Drakken sat her in a chair in the waiting room and checked her in. Shego promptly curled up in the chair and went to sleep.

Drakken sat down next to her, drumming his hands on his knees.

A dental assistant in mint colored scrubs called her name a short time afterward, “Stephanie Lipsky.”

“Right here!” Drakken called, helping Shego up and towards the assistant.

“She’s a bit out of it,” Drakken said, as they were ushered out of the waiting room.

“It’s completely normal. I’m Angela, I’ll be assisting Dr. Morgan today.” She was sure to speak to Drakken and Shego both, even if the latter was somewhere between asleep and awake. “Follow me and we’ll get her comfortable.”

Drakken dutifully followed her into the exam room and helped Shego into the chair, never letting go of her hand. Angela placed a finger monitor on one of Shego’s fingers. As her vitals came up on the monitor, Drakken noticed they were as strong and healthy as ever.

“Good morning!” A tall and cheerful bald man said as he entered the room, “I’m Dr. Bryan Wells, I’m the anesthetist charged with keeping Stephanie comfortable and asleep with the procedure.” He shook Drakken’s hand.

“Did you have any questions or did Stephanie?” Dr. Wells asked.

“No, thank you,” Drakken replied.

“I’ll walk you back to the waiting room,” Angela said to Drakken as Dr. Wells began prepping for IV. Drakken kissed Shego’s cheek before he was ushered out.

Drakken returned to his seat and waited. He scrolled mindlessly through Villainstagram but his mind kept drifting back to Shego, hoping she was doing okay. He squirmed in his chair, trying to get comfortable, the other patients and family members staring at him.

What if she woke up before the doctor was done?

What if she stopped breathing?

Her veins never responded well to IVs, how many times did they have to poke and prod her? Drakken idly scratched his neck. The scar-like veins he now had, came from a failed experiment to make veins more visible, temporarily of course. You weren’t a good scientist if you weren’t willing to be the first volunteer.

He would jump every time he heard drills and other instruments being used, comparing it all to medieval torture.

‘Pull yourself together you idiot. What are you going to do when she has your kid?’ Drakken thought. He froze.

They have discussed having kids, but it was a future prospect. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Sure, they had Athena at one point, but a flesh and blood child was totally different. If Drakken couldn’t handle the thought of his wife going through a routine dental surgery, how would he react to seeing Shego in pain from labor? He’d faint; out cold on the floor with the labor and delivery team stepping over his lame body, and probably one of his brothers-in-law turning him to a meme, that’s how.

Knowing that he had to calm down, Drakken settled himself as much as he could and waited.

He got a text from one of his lab assistants saying that Paul was a female and had destroyed the server room.

‘The name stays. Rebuild the servers.’ He replied. Normally such destruction would send him into a manic frenzy, but he had more important matters to tend to.

“Mr. Lipsky.” Angela called sometime later, startling Drakken, “Your wife is out of surgery, you can come back.”

Drakken jumped out of his seat.

She led the scientist to the recovery room. Shego was reclined back a comfy recliner with a blanket, asleep. Drakken was surprised that she looked okay. He had imagined the worst in the waiting room. She was a bit swollen and her mouth was packed, but no black eyes, no oozing blood. He sat down next to her and gently moved a stray hair from her eyes.

“We’ll keep an eye on her for about thirty minutes or so just to make sure she’s doing okay.”

Drakken nodded, more focused on Shego.

The doctor came in. “Mr. Lipsky, a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Dr. Morgan said, shaking Drakken’s hand “It was a textbook operation. Since she is older than most removal patients, we needed to perform a bone graft also.”

“Bone graft?!” Drakken echoed.

The doctor smiled, “It’s not nearly as scary as it sounds. We simply took donor material and grafted it into her jaw to give her second molars the stability that the wisdom teeth once provided. She responded well to the anesthesia, all her vitals are strong and remained as such throughout the procedure. She had no dry sockets. The teeth had yet to fully erupt, which is a good thing. It would have messed up all the dental work she had done in the past. I did have to cut her gums to remove the teeth, but after she heals, she won’t have any more problems.”

He gave Drakken her aftercare instructions which the scientist carefully read over until Shego was discharged.

“Stephanie, sweetie, it’s time to wake up,” Angela cooed.

If Shego would have been fully conscious, she would not have let anyone call her sweetie, but she stirred, slightly.

Angela gently took the blanket off her to which Shego opened her eyes. She looked around the room for a moment. “Is it over?” She asked, her voice muffled by gauze.

“All over!” Angela confirmed.

Shego stretched in the chair.

“What are you looking at?” She said to Drakken, who was relieved that she was okay. She went to take the gauze out of her mouth.

“No, no, no!” Angela said, but Drakken grabbed Shego’s hand before she could.

“You need to keep those until this afternoon at least,” Angela instructed.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Drakken assured. Shego gave him the stink eye.

“She’s all ready to go. I’ll get her a wheelchair and her medication.”

She was prescribed strong painkillers, an antibiotic, and anti-inflammatory. Drakken was suspicious as to why the bottles were only half full but remember that Shego had been seeing Dr. Morgan for years and he likely knew that she healed at an accelerated rate.

“Off like a herd of turtles,” Drakken said, more to himself as he wheeled Shego back to their car.

“I can’t suck anything for a few days. Sorry” Shego lamented.

It took Drakken a second to understand what she meant. Oh. That.

“I’m sure we’ll both get through it fine.” He blushed.

He gently placed Shego, who had already fallen back asleep, in the passenger’s seat and buckled her seatbelt. He resisted the urge to keep the wheelchair for joyrides and returned it.

As they made their way home, Shego’s head dropped and she began to drool bloody saliva.

“Steph…” Drakken prompted, trying to wake her up.

Nothing.

“Stephanie.” He tried again, louder, trying to focus on the road and his wife.

She was snoring.

His eyes darting from the road to Shego, he gently tipped her head to the side to avoid a mess. Even drooling, Shego looked intimidating.

When he made it home, Drakken picked her up bridal style and carried her to bed. He dabbed her mouth of any blood with a damp paper towel.

All he had to do now was wait until she woke up.

Hours later Shego woke up tucked into bed, her head elevated to a comfortable level. A heating pack was secured to her jaw, and a cool, damp cloth on her forehead, a glass of water and everything she could want or need on were at arm’s reach on her bedside table.

Okay, he was a keeper.

Even Commodore Puddles came to check on her, sleep at the foot of the bed. Shego wouldn’t be surprised if he was just attracted to the scent of blood.

Drakken was asleep in an armchair by the window, his legs and bare feet kicked up on the bed.

Shego kicked his feet a little harder than she meant to.

Drakken was instantly awake, ready to help his bride however she needed. “How are you feeling?” He asked as he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

Shego spat out fairly clean gauze which made her wonder if Drakken had changed it while she was asleep.

“Sleepy. Kinda weird.”

“Any pain?”

“Sore.”

“You should probably take something. Are you hungry? Everything needs to be on a full stomach.”

Shego shrugged. “Whatever is fine.”

He came back up with two bowls of mashed potatoes with cheddar and sour cream on a breakfast tray and two glasses of juice. Shego was a fiend for Diet Coke, but carbonated beverages were off the menu for a few days.

Drakken sat down on his side of the bed, fluffed his pillows as Shego scrolled through Netflix. They watched a silly movie that they had both long since memorized and ate their dinner. Drakken wasn’t about to scarf down a burger until Shego was able to.

After they were finished, Drakken took the plates back downstairs as Shego gently rinsed her mouth.

Still sleepy from the sedation, Shego curled up against her husband as they returned to bed. She didn’t make it more than five minutes. Carefully, he turned the TV off and laid down beside her. He fell asleep, ready to care for her for the next few days.

 Was this weird? I think it was weird. If anything seems that way, it’s likely because I’m basing a lot of it on my own wisdom teeth experience. It wasn’t a good one in retrospect. He wound up on national news for his terrible practices. He didn’t run his clinic like he should have to say the least. Now I feel weird that I brought that up. Oh well.

[ibatronic]

Still Alive...

BEFORE YOU READ!

The following does get really personal, so please read (if you so choose) with an open heart and genuine sense of compassion and sensitivity. It's also many things I've wanted to get off my chest for ages. The following will also explain my mood in the past two journals I made. It does end on a lighter note, I promise.

It's been ages since I've posted anything online, let alone anything here... Remember months ago, when I had posted a journal about the slump I was feeling and then posted an artwork of me… slump drawing? There’s more beyond me simply losing motivation to make more art. And a few of you might have noticed I posted a rather… shocking status update in which I threatened suicide. Following that post, a lot of the unpleasant feelings and thoughts that I believed were gone came back to haunt me. Additionally, many things in my past came back to haunt me, prompting me to go soul searching and try to better myself.

For those not in-the-know, I have been suffering from clinical and manic depression for about the past 6 years. Speaking in real-life timeline, back in the 6 years, I remember that it started with my severe trouble making friends, communicating with others socially, and trying to fit in with others. My depression wasn’t just caused by my low turnout in the friends department, but also because I'd never truly felt loved by anyone… not even myself. As I grew up, I had no friends all throughout middle school and no friends all throughout high school, and then came to terms with the fact that I have no friends at ALL! Things like having no friends really did have an effect on me… I gave friendship and putting myself out there an earnest try, but after the many times I got hurt and betrayed, that was the end of it for me.  People like myself who are alone usually spend their time practicing something they like, in my case being my art, writing, and studying. From other sources and from my own experience, it helps to be noticed for your talents and interest. This pretty much tied into, if you’d notice, why I was actively moping around DA Forums grousing on why my work doesn’t get as much attention as I’d hoped or why those that are recognized do get it. Sometimes, I feel annoyed that noone cares about my work, not even my relatives. My original work. Like, on DeviantArt, I recall fan-art and fan-artists get tons of favorites on their work. While the highest I've ever gotten was 11. I've put hours, days, and sometimes weeks into these and noone cares. And it's mostly criticism that doesn't even make sense. I just want to tell them how hard it is to make the art, but showing people who aren't interested in the hobby will just make them annoyed about it. Everyone is expecting a @$%^ing anime master from every artist and I just don't get it. Some of the time people will make annoying re-colors to get the respect and attention they want, but they do get both of those things in the end. Mostly, how it goes is: A person will make a rather undeveloped character. Then, they will take someone else's artwork and color in their character. Then they will claim it as their own. Then, they will get hate and attention. The person will 'cry' over it and say that they are going to leave that site. People will feel bad for that person, make the person fan art, subscribe to or watch them or whatever, and the person will be filthy-famous and have tons of friends in the end, even though they didn't do jack @$%^! Or they just stoop so low just to get-rich-quick. Argh! I just don't get it any more! I try to hard making quality animation, art, videos, but no one cares what so ever!

I’ve had nobody.  Nobody cared about me.  Going this long without someone besides therapists to confide in, or someone to comfort you or share their likes and dislikes with could really mess you up...

An ordinary day for me back in high school that I rarely overlook, was my recurring plight when it came to being around others. For the majority of my life, I had been nothing but an outcast to people my own age, I never fit in with them since they never truly accepted me as their friend. From what I can remember, each year, I was either on my own or hung out with a group of kids as they talked amongst themselves while I just remained silent. And each year, I make the mistake of even having the tiniest bit of optimism that things just might be different. Having been alone and neglected for a long time, I spent every day seeing what it felt like to be going through what I think are quite possibly the worst years of my adolescent life, with my best and only friend gone (he moved), while I was stuck amongst people whom I felt care very little about me. Now, I’m by myself and with some content. Everyday I would go through the same routine—morning academic classes, lunch break, after classes, dismissal—counting the hours as they go by. For kids that suffered from anxiety or depression, like me, they were sent to the Social Work team where they can vent out their problems and try to uncover any solution or coping mechanism to get by the school year. For me, it might've been a different story because ever since my depression started, I received little check-ins from anyone, not even my own parents, relatives, or any old friends I once had (ones that I talked to in elementary or middle school that won’t talk to me anymore). Most of the time in school, I refused to show any emotion, trying to keep them all bottled up as I go through eight hours by hours while the other students talk amongst themselves and don't pay attention to me.

In life, I find what it is like to be in complete isolation, triggering memories of how I had endured loneliness in my childhood and used to be the timid, awkward, and sullen oddball, knowing that there is noone around to brighten my day, only the sound of other kids talking amongst themselves and having fun much to my envy is all I can hear. On one night as I walked home, I realized that I am really alone, having no idea where my life is going at that rate, or if there is someone out there who really cares about me because not a lot of people have spoken to me for a while ever since I became a high school student years back and regret not getting in much contact with them to see how things were. Plus, my closest relatives, such as my parents and brother are not really much help in my condition. As much as I try to talk to them, I don't get the feeling that they truly understand. The way they respond whenever I attempt to console to them is very dismissive and inconsiderate, further supporting my belief that not even they care about me. In the time I'd wrote this, I swore off telling them any ounce of my problems, as if they would actually care...

Even worse was enduring bullying and abuse from other students that triggered bad memories of what caused me not to be so trusting of others. And, I could not fight back against them all that much, doing nothing other than reacting, glaring, snarking, or giving the occasional finger, which wouldn't last long as I am often overpowered by their popularity, dominance, and miraculous ways of getting reactions out of me. Unless I were lucky to find some kind of way of hitting them. There were some days which ended with me getting sent to the principal’s office in order to acknowledge my mental illness with the staff, not to mention what feelings of trauma I get whenever I’m bullied or harassed by some dastardly kid. Sometimes after the bullying, I would have meltdowns or end up running back to my haven so nobody can see my silent (nonexistent) tears of regret and sorrow, even ignoring whatever pains those bullies left on my heart and body. Sometimes the pain is so intense that I can no longer bottle up my emotions, yet now I refuse to show it in front of others and would rather do it alone in my haven so I can be on to do so freely. The only words I can whisper to myself is “I hate myself…” This is also the case for cyberbullies and predators I've fallen victim of in the past—people have anonymously been mean and hurtful to me, and what's worse is that I REALLY cannot do anything about it besides reporting, especially for pedophiles who have managed to lead me on in the past and take advantage of my open wounds just to get an easy nail... Speaking of bullying, I think it's safe to assume that I'd also sufferred the same at the hands of my own father! In the past, and during my childhood, he would abuse me by striking me every time I screwed something up, even if it was a minor or honest mistake. Being both verbally and physically abusive, I can't exactly say I felt truly safe when around him in hindsight, worrying that one slip-up in front of him could result in another clean bruise on my body. Recently, I recall my father once barging into my room at night while I was asleep and interrogating me about some sort of misunderstanding with his credit card and certain online marketing website. Instead of actually filling me in on what happened or what was going on, he would yell me these questions with no fathomable context whatsoever. Even worse was that initially I was suffering from sleep inertia, so I definitely couldn't quite catch on quickly. Eventually, things led to things, and a heated argument erupted between us, prompting us to get into a shouting match and for me to release all my pent up anger on him, even getting physical and delivering a few blows to him thus further angering him. The incident left me with mixed emotions of confusion, sadness, trauma, and all topped with insomnia since I could not go to sleep for the rest of the night. The things he said to me during all this made assured me that he definitely didn't care about me, and that I was expendable just like all his other abandoned love-children... The feelings, it burns. It is when nobody says happy birthday. It is when family members say they love me yet don't show it. They don't know how to love me, and that is the same as not loving me. It is being alone at lunch. It is being alone and lonely all the time. It is spending hours online finding out how others managed to cope with the stinging feeling I get before I go to bed when my head starts spinning with all the evil truths that nobody cares about me. Sure, some may say they do, but who wants to listen to me talk about my passions? Who wants to help me out? Nobody... Nobody even wants to take time out of their day to spend it with me. It's reading books on how to make friends. It's moping for hours wondering why nobody even likes me, much less loves me. It's changing appearances and attitudes only to be rejected and alone and remain unloved. It's questioning who I am entirely, it's masking who I am and changing who I am and feeling like I'm crazy. It's wishing I could be okay with the fact that nobody loves me but it still feels like a hot hand gripping my throat and a heavy weight on my chest. It's replaying every comment in my head over and over. It's terrible, I can't talk with anyone about it because nobody cares. It hurts, God it hurts!

There was one thing during my time in high school that I could confide in, besides art and drawing…

Back in mid-2015, I remember working hard on a series called “Tails for Hire”; one that parodied the already-parody, Sonic for Hire. With the help of an online ally from Kentucky, I was able to finish it and upload it to YouTube that summer. At the time, my YouTube channel was nothing but cobwebs of old, rather second-rate videos. That was until the first episode of Tails for Hire was released. To my surprise, it garnered over 5,000 views the first week it was uploaded, and I was blown away by the good responses and relatively fair criticism. For the first time, I felt… significant! In retrospect, I realize that what lifted my spirits seeing the comments on my TFH videos was the fact that I had some company. Afterwards, my partner for the video, Tales499 and I talked fairly often, I made another (now former) friend on Skype from Norway, I had so many notifications of comments on the videos. I didn’t feel so alone during all this. I guess I wanted people to talk to and share my feelings with in order to quell my loneliness and compensate for my lack of friendships. I’ll admit, the internet was harsh at times with me, but I learn over the years (and now), that it’s a way of helping you grow thicker skin. This all might explain why I felt the yearning desire for popularity on different social media platforms. Though, I have to admit it does sound rather pathetic for me to console to people behind screens instead of face-to-face.

As some of you who know me from my YouTube channel, you’ll know that Tails for Hire is currently on an undeterminably long hiatus, as of June 2016. Currently, no return date was thought of, but don’t fret, one day… ONE DAY, Tails for Hire will return… At this point the hiatus is more of a hibernation.

Months later, after I finally graduated high school, leaving behind the four years of emotional torture I had endured, I was ready to head to university! Or at least, I thought…

I won’t get too deep into the details of what happened there, but I will say this—everything that I struggled with in my early-to-mid adolescence came to haunt me in university as if I was cursed. No matter how hard I tried to suck it up, I didn’t make any real friends or meaningful relationships in university. When I noticed all the other students at the school, I felt generally inadequate—it reminded me of all things that others are better at and how I'm don't have anything to offer anyone. At the end of December 2018, some of you might recall me making a status update on DeviantArt of me contemplating suicide, and that if I don’t post anything the next year, I might have actually gone with it… Few of you showed your concern… But, while I did appreciate it, I felt that people will only care when it’s too late… I’m sorry if I scared or confused some of you. If I EVER feel suicidal again, I’ll see it that seek immediate help.

Short story—public Safety, many counsellors, my roommates, and one of the deans had come to me saying how worried they were about my well-being after hearing reports of me acting strange and making suicidal remarks. This also ties into the fact that the way I've been feeling has caused me to occasionally miss some of my classes, not be able to focus well, and worst of all... develop some suicidal thoughts... I even explicitly fantasized of jumping off a roof or a window to kill myself! I'm sorry if all this info came up out of nowhere. Eventually, the Dean highly recommended that I be put on medical leave until it is decided that I'm fit to come back to campus. I wasn't too fond of the idea given that I worked so hard in coming to this school and at least tough my way through the first semester. But apparently, it's for the best... When others ask why I would even think to kill myself, the only overarching reason I can give is "I'm worthless!" When people notice that I've been OK for few days or acting normal, it's just that I've been manic. When I look at others, I always think of the things I can't do! I'm an artist who can even get noticed, I'm a guy who has never had many friendships that lasted long, I'm a wimp who can't work up the courage to confront others, I'm a university student on medical leave! All of these things and then some are what trigger thoughts of how my life is a joke! But somehow, during those times when I contemplated suicide, I actually felt free! Almost giddy, and that I could finally kiss this worthless life good-bye!

At the moment, I’m going through professional help and trying to keep myself busy during my downtime. Part of me says there’s no hope me, but part me says one day, I’ll be back to my old, wholesomely manic self again. Step by step… it just might happen.

Lately, I’ve tried to get back into the passions I once enjoyed, get the ideas I’ve had out there as if someone would want to see them. But, I still struggle in finding the motivation thinking of the very disheartening outcomes—low viewership, negative or no feedback, or just not feeling happy with the finished product. I sometimes look at my art and wonder if I can do better or it's good enough. I'm turned between both sides on that case, mainly because I don't have anyone else to share with me their well-thought-out opinions, instead of one-word comments or notifications where someone simply favorites something. Mostly due to my depression, almost everything I do in life seems meaningless. Because that's how depression works! No matter how good I (supposedly) am, I don't remember the good things about myself, I just over exaggerate the terrible stuff about me and it becomes who I am in my mind. No matter what I do, I'm not good enough for myself... But no, my fear of death and it being a one-way ticket are what stop me... I try to figure out what I have to live for and what ideas I have to share. It's really hard, given how I compare myself to others and how much success they've achieved besides me, and the negative thoughts are what cloud my mind no matter how hard I try to clear them. Then there's the days where I feel unimportant or under appreciated, as if I make no difference by staying alive. Some days I feel like I'm on top of the world and that noone can stop me, and other and most days I feel nothing but pain. During those good days, I find myself surrounded by people who seem to care and be interested in me, but soon after the feeling wears off, and I just don't know why! In the time, I've written this, I've been feeling really low, as if noone would even care or bother to read this or be concerned with how I'm feeling. But as I finish and sign off... I kinda feel like a huge weight was lifted off of me. It felt good for me to let it all out, even if it is just typing it out. (Sigh)... If you've made it this far in reading the journal, thank you for reading and hopefully understanding. Once again, I'm sorry if this seemed overly dramatic, self-indulgent or just really heavy. But like I said, this was for me to get some of that heavy weight off me. Throughout half of this year, everything that has happened was really just too much to explain, too much to handle, too traumatically stressing, and generally just heavy... which is why I needed time off... Again, thank you for reading...

[richrubies]

Set-up (Jay Park x Reader)

➳ genre: jealousy x humour

Jay knew there was no reason to be jealous.

He knew that your relationship was solid – no, not solid. If we were talking the three scientific phases, your relationship was gas. Untouchable. Yes, definitely untouchable.

So why the hell was he feeling like he was about to go and knock Sung-min out for standing so close to you.

It wasn’t as if you were wearing a skin-tight dress – no, you’d visited the set wearing a pair of black jeans and an over-sized hoodie, with your hair in a messy bun on-top of your head.

And yet, all of the crew had taken to you like bees to pollen.

Even worse, is that you’d spent a majority of your time sitting and talking with the influx of men in the room – in other words, not paying attention to Jay at all.

He couldn’t blame the guys – you were a natural beauty. You drew people in with your smile and kindness; Jay scoffed at that thought as soon as it appeared – if half of the people on the set knew how tough and crazy you were during an argument, they’d shun you without a second thought.

Jay deserved an award for being your boyfriend.

At least that’s what he told himself as he pouted from his seat, watching as you laughed happily on the other side of the room, sitting between Dean and Zico, making exaggerated hand movements while everyone laughed alongside you.

Oh, it pissed him off more than he could express.

What were you saying that was so funny?

Were you telling them about the time he accidentally walked in on your grandma getting dressed and that she hasn’t stopped hitting on him at family gatherings since?

Or about the time he went swimming and a wave dumped him so hard that he lost his swimming shorts and almost got arrested for public indecency?

The more he saw you and your group of fanboys laugh, the more suspicious he became.

Whipping out his phone, his fingers practically glided along the keyboard as he sent of a trail of messages.

The vibrating of your phone pulled your attention away from Dean who was telling the group about his recent shenanigans. Opening the messages with a frown on your face, you excused yourself from the conversation for a moment whilst you dealt to your grumbling boyfriend.

The SMTM set was lively the moment you had walked in, with set crew running around, fixing last minute issues before going live for the upcoming seventh season in a few days’ time, despite the time was nearing 1am.

You’d come to the set to bring Jay food, and to offer any assistance to the set team – after-all, you did used to work as one of the prop artists before moving on to working with YG. Your offer had kingly been rejected, which had given you time to catch up with old faces.

It had been a long time since you’d seen Sung-min and Hyuk, and even longer since you’d last hung out with Jiho, and so you leapt at the opportunity to do so.

All of the other producers and competitors had long since left after your arrival, most of them reluctant to leave after having found you on set; you were a crowd favourite with your wild humour and uplifting nature.

You re-read Jay’s message about his shoulders and frowned, looking over your shoulder to see a sullen Jay sitting in one of the prop throne chairs, one leg thrown over the arm, and the other placed on the ground. He was glaring right at your little group of friends, a cloud of jealousy storming right above him.

Oh boy.

Jay wasn’t usually a jealous man – well that wasn’t true. He was, but he denied being so, claiming it was a matter of “feeling uncomfortable with other people being too near because he was worried about your safety”. But you knew him like the back of your hand, and you knew that his pathetic reasoning was just him rambling, attempting to maintain his level-headed CEO image, even behind closed doors.

But you knew Jay. In other words, no amount of Jay’s denial would stop you from knowing the blatant truth – Park Jae-beom was a thirty-one-year old sook who didn’t like to share.

Placing your phone back in your pocket after sending your last text, you ignored the constant vibrating as you wrapped the conversation with ease by announcing that you were getting tired, and promising the men that you would visit the set often, along with ensuring that you’d all go out to dinner together soon.

As they each went their own way, muttering about how fast time had passed, and how good it had been to see you, you in-turn, walked in the direction of Jay who was still sitting in his plastic throne, looking every bit the king of your heart, that he was.

As you approached, Jay shifted so that his elbows rested on his thighs and he let out an exaggerated sound, ‘Ugh, babe, feel how stiff my shoulders are!’

Rolling your eyes, you stood behind him and gently squeezed at his shoulders and rubbed his back, cooing, ‘You must be in so much pain!’

‘Why didn’t you come earlier?’ he asked, holding back a cry of pain as you squeezed at his shoulder blades, attempting to get the fake knots out of his back.

‘You’re so tense!’ you continue to massage as Jay squirmed away from your touch.

‘It must be all of the hard work I’ve bee– YA! That hurts!’

Halting your pain-massage, you lean over his shoulder to look him in the eye, ‘Yah, were you jealous?’

‘Ha! Me? Of who? Jealous? What? No! Never!’ he blurted out quickly, ‘What’s there to be jealous of?’

Rubbing at his back to make up for the hard massage you’d just given him, knowing he’d lied about it actually being sore, you murmur, ‘Ah…so you didn’t just sit here for the last forty minutes, glaring at me and the guys?’

‘…Nope.’

‘Ah…that’s weird, because I could have sworn that you were sitting there, practically setting Hyuk on fire with your eyes. Shooting at him with laser-eyes, pew-pew,’ you tease him.

‘I don’t get jealous,’ he tells you with crossed arms and a raised nose.

You hum, causing Jay to look up at you with a mouth wide open, ‘It’s true! If you want to come to the SMTM set to see me, but spend all your time focusing on other men, then I’m completely fine with it!’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah! I’m so fine with it. It’s cool. It’s as cool as a cucumber,’ Jay rambles while you watch him with a raised eyebrow, knowing that he was feeling the complete opposite.

‘Yes, sir-ee, it’s fine by me! I mean, why waste time on your handsome and loving boyfriend when you can have a long secret discussion with a bunch of SINGLE men?’ you couldn’t get a word in as Jay muttered to himself, ‘What was so funny anyway? Stupid Zico.’

Not able to hold back your laughter at his ridiculousness any longer, you hid behind your hand as Jay looks up at you with a glare.

‘Sorry, hun, I’m not laughing at you, I swear,’ you say between giggles which only became louder the more you looked at Jay’s sulky face. He looked like a kid who wasn’t allowed to buy a toy.

‘It’s not funny!’ he defends, causing you to bark out another loud laugh while he pouted.

‘Aigoo, you’re so jealous! You’re so cute,’ you coo, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands.

‘I’m not jealous!’ he says, adamant as he pulls you into his lap and holds you tight, his chin resting on your shoulder, ‘I’m really not!’

‘그래? Fine…You’re not jealous. That’s good, because the guys asked to meet up for dinner sometime soon.’

Jay nearly threw you out of his lap as he stood up, ‘Those jerks! They spend all night hogging my girlfriend, making her laugh and standing too close, and now they want to take you out to dinner? Ha!’ He began to laugh manically, ‘Mother-fuckers.’

He turned to you, who had been standing, watching Jay in amazement at his sudden outburst – it was the first time you’d seen him react like this; small fits, you were used too, but this was on a whole other level.

‘So? Did you agree to go?’ Jay asks while you give him a small smile and nod, despite knowing it’d only annoy him further.

‘They’re trying to steal you away from me!’

‘Yah, you idiot,’ you all but giggle as he began to pace, muttering and cursing despite the many crew members who were still on site, and in hearing distance, ‘They invited you as well!’

Jay halted almost instantly, his head moving so fast that you were sure he had given himself whiplash, ‘What?’

‘They want to do a group thing! Not just me, they want you there as well, you dork.’

‘You set me up!’ Jay accuses while you laugh freely, ‘You wanted to see if I’d react like a crazy man!’

‘That’s it…You’re banned from visiting the set,’ Jay says, his cheeks red from having lost his composure.

Laughing, you walk away from a shaken Jay, ‘Whatever, you’ll be begging me to come to the set by tomorrow, cry-baby!’

‘I’m not a cry-baby! And I wasn’t jealous!’ Jay says as he follows after you like a puppy, his hand instantly seeking yours as you walk, ‘Honestly!’

‘You’re so cute. Come on. Let’s go home, I spent so much time talking to all of the handsome judges and artists that I’ve tired myself out,’ you tease him, only to laugh as Jay yelled,

‘YOU’RE BANNED FROM THE SET! I MEAN IT!’

[leggigoesabroad]

skipping down sixteenth avenue

We woke up the next morning honestly fuggin AMPED because it was a full day at sea.  We had big plans to get some work done, explore the ship, day drink, revel in it all, etc.  But immediately we all felt so seasick that mid-meeting in Brooke’s room she just said “this isn’t happening. Let’s all go back to bed.” And we snorted lines of Dramamine and napped (essentially.)  We got an invitation that morning for dinner with the captain that night, which just so happened to be the ship’s formal night that we didn’t know existed.  Cue PANIC as I accused them all of trying to haze me by not telling me I needed to bring anything other than athleisure.  The nicest thing I brought with me was a floral jumpsuit so I tried my best to blend in but goddamn it these women were wearing like, sparkly evening gowns, strapless bodycon dresses, etc.   Couldn’t even go shopping anywhere since we were at sea all day.  Brooke says it was Nick’s fault, Nick and I secretly remember it was Brooke’s fault as she was the one who told us that Alaskan cruises don’t have formal nights…. Sigh. I’ve only just now started to get over it.  Combined with feeling like death all day and then having to be on good behavior for the very peculiar captain, things were dire.  The lack of formalwear also of course meant that I felt the need to get ahead of it to everyone I encountered the entire night.  “Just so you know I was told there wasn’t a formal night!!” **manic laughter drawing attention to myself** “I would never think this was appropriate for a formal night or dinner with the captain, we didn’t know! We’re here for work! It was a miscommunication!” **more manic laughter and essentially forcing people to say I look nice** “I dress way better at home, had I known I would have fit right in!! You can imagine.  I compensated by getting rip-roaring drunk and OD’ing on Dramamine which led me to a coma-like state I tried to Adderall-away the rest of the cruise.  Hate me cuz u ain’t me.  

The captain was ssssssooo strange – pleasant, but just on a different level of awareness than most normal people.  Lived in his own little captain world.  Old and British and told stories that made no sense and weren’t really relevant. Overly polite but also we felt like he didn’t want to be there.  By the way, I saw captain multiple times a day and at EVERY meal.  I swear he’s just a figurehead who never drives the boat himself. We did a bridge tour later in the week and he made a point to roll on through and look like he was “captain-ing” at one point when we all know he just chills and makes his officers do it. Towards the end of the trip we were talking to him one day and asked how his day was, and he said he had to get up at 4 am to dock and was exhausted and slept all day afterwards.  First of all, 4 am isn’t that much earlier than a normal early wake-up time.  Second of all, docking start to finish only takes like 45 minutes MAX.  Third of all, it’s your job!!!!!!!

We finally pulled into our first port in Ketchikan on Thursday morning.  The boys each had a fun shore excursion to do (bear sanctuary, ziplining) but Brooke, Yolanda and I had a day of running from vendor to vendor to spend about 15 minutes each just learning what they offered and asking questions.  Yolanda used to travel in Alaska with Seabourn back in 2013, so she greeted every tour operator in every town as if they were her long-lost brother or sister and reunited after being away at war for six years. You’ll hear more about it as these blogs go on but lord she is the most dramatic person I have ever met and also not self-aware whatsoever but it’s fucking hysterical.  Today when we said goodbye I said, “honestly, Yolanda, I can’t remember a time before I knew you.” And that’s about how I can sum up our relationship.  

The bopping around was not as fun because we didn’t actually participate in any of the activities, and it was pouring rain.  But all things considered, not as bad as I expected it would be.  We met two super-hot fishermen (each of whom had a baby with their wives in the last week smh where do I get one) and heard all about their different excursions.  They sounded dope but there was freshly caught fish all around us on the docks and their eyes stared at me during the whole spiel and I couldn’t focus.  Why are fish eyes SO CREEPY? After a few more stops around town, our local tour operator Kari drove us to the end of the island to George Inlet Lodge and met one of the owner/operators, CANDI, who gave me a real “mom in Justified /Aunt Lydia in Handmaid’s Tale / whatever her real name is who just won an Emmy” vibe, except less cold blooded murder-y. They showed us their boats and excursions and then fed us an authentic meal just like the members would get, which included Dungeness crab legs.  I told myself before the trip started that I’d HAVE to try and eat more seafood because a) it’s fresh AF in Alaska so this is the place b) my excuse of “but it’s too expensive at restaurants” can’t apply here #freeunlimitedfood and c) I should try to immerse myself in the culture. If Kitty ever reads this she’ll die, also Kitty you should never go to Alaska.  We’re going to keep a running tab on all the seafood, I tried, okay?!  First: the “dungie” crabs.  Learned how to crack them open and everything.  They were relatively tasty, but I still don’t get why people lose their shit over crab legs, especially because it’s soooooo much work for so little payout.  I’m more of a low investment, high reward type.

After the lodge we drove to the opposite end of the island and got on a boat to drive out to Hump Island (lol) Oyster Farm, where a 20-year-old kid named Sean showed us around his dad’s operation.  He was the epitome of what I imagine an Alaskan braaaaaaaah to be and he was cracking me up. All self-deprecating humor about how no 20-year-old should know as much about oysters as him and all he wants to do is chill with his friends in the summer, not tumble oysters 12 hours a day. There were tons of pots all around the little floating island and he explained it takes an oyster about 3 years to grow to maturity and be ready to be eaten/sold, so I asked him if the pots were organized by relative age so you know which ones are new and which need more time, etc.  He said, “honestly we’re just oyster farmers we’re not the brightest most organized guys in the world but that would make sense, wouldn’t it” but all with a sweet douchey little smile only a college kid could get away with.  The thing that struck me most was just how different “summer jobs” in Alaska are for kids than in say, DC.  They don’t work at fast food restaurants or for their dad’s law firm or at daycare blah blah blah, they work on boats or on oyster farms or fishing or logging or giving tours to cruise passengers.  Builds character! And calluses!  They fed us fresh oysters after that which I really didn’t want because I had an oyster one time and I thought it was gross, but again, had to.  And it tasted better than I remember probably because I was literally on the farm where it was grown, kinda like how beer tastes better at a brewery because it never has to travel. 

Back on the ship that night, we ate at what is literally called The Restaurant.  The ship only has a few dining options – The Restaurant, which is pretty shmancy and requires a reservation (but not for us VIPs of course who had the same table reserved for us every night), the Colonnade (buffet-style, ate all of our breakfasts and lunches there) and the Grill, which is a VERY SHMANCY Thomas Keller restaurant that has cut-throat competition for reservations and apparently our members lose their minds over.  We ate there a few nights later and I accidentally got hammered on my new favorite drink, Old Cubans, and had to be essentially rolled out of there in front of the Super Hot Waiter I’m in Love With, Thomas from Belgium. Literally just conjured his face in my mind when typing this and felt an internal swoon.  I miss him so much.  ANYWAY we ate at the Restaurant each night, which had fixed menu options on the right hand side and a rotating left menu.  I tried to be ~adventurous but mostly ate a lot of steak.  Had a black truffle risotto one night and literally loved it so much asked for a second portion.  Going to the lake this weekend and stuffing myself in a bikini is going to be like, a three-person job. We had the same two servers each night – Anastasiia, a 25-year-old Russian girl who love/hated us and today tried to do a bike excursion after never having ridden a bike before and eventually gave up because she crashed too much (I said, “Anastasiia! You can’t just try and ride a bike and hope it goes well, you need someone to guide/teach you until you’re comfortable!” Smh) and Simba, a South African angel who had a crush on me and calmly put up with all of my Lion King jokes.  Listen, other than Super Hot Waiter Thomas, they all had a crush on me.  Maybe they found my complete lack of adherence to their dress code sexy in a “fuck the rules” kind of way?? (How is one supposed to dress for “elegant casual” nightly anyway…) Maybe it was how I insisted night over night that I was “one of them” and not a client because I was here for a site visit and begged them to let me hang out with them?  (The assistant Maitre’D Marius tried to pull so many strings to allow us to be invited to crew Bingo night but alas, we were rejected.) Or maybe it was because I was one of the only people on the ship under the age of 60 and I shamelessly chatted and flirted with everyone I saw, at every meal… It’s hard to say. Simba even publicly sang me a love song at the last night at dinner.  

Slept that night and woke up to the most magical, mystical, ethereal scenery of the Misty Fjords surrounding us.  I’ll post a picture so you can truly understand how magical these were.  Pouring rain but gorgeous and foggy and tranquil. TO BE CONTINUED!

[veegreenekissed-blog]

A Jaded Introduction:

I have been very apprehensive about beginning a true blog. By this I mean to say, in the past I did simpler versions like small paragraph entries on a couple of sites, profiles, and message boards while I was still in school. None of these showed all of my true self as this blog shall. So be ready for what comes next in this latest venture in my life. Its beginning has been long awaited, overthought, and over planned (without any accomplishment of any said planning). I need to just fucking do it. Get over being scared something bad will happen. 

There are too many reasons to go over right now as to why I have felt nervous, anxious, and somewhat fearful of finally putting something, anything onto my page. I am a fucking amazing procrastinator! I have been putting this off for at least 5 fucking years now. Oh, and yes I curse a lot, so if you don’t like that, you will need to deal with that or find an insanely more conservative page (which will likely be hard to do). 

Typically artists of any form have broken filters that we do patch up a bit for events like family occasions and such. These patches are like duct tape on a leaky pipe. Shit still dribbles out and you only have so much time before that tape just peels right off. And, letting alcohol enter that pipe will make the tape peel faster.

……………………………………………………

The main blog profiles from my past often had to do with the support of others enduring forms of depression, and most often the disorders and side effects that come with it. After a while, I realized certain entries of healing supporters were at times, unfortunately, a trigger for myself. 

I do not know how I would react to them now but perhaps there is a reason as to why I could not, even less than a month later of my stopping them, remember any of my profile names, username emails, passwords, etc. For more these sites I used a special new email address and to this day I cannot tell you what it was. 

I suppose this was possibly myself protecting me from what I knew was a trigger, what was even an encouragement. Though supportive in nature, sometimes certain lows others had reached, seemed more like achievements I never came close to. I know, terrible to say, but another motive to help explain depression and its side effects. Have them be realized as diseases, disorders, issues, and more for a reason, which is more often to help others understand them.

……………………………………………………..

Anyways, I should announce a few things about myself.... 

I am a major animal lover/advocate, a feminist, a major homebody, a person majorly attached to family (though I do have my many secrets from all the world as you will come to understand), a person that has lived most of my young life with the “trifecta” (allergies, asthma, skin issues – mine being eczema), a person that is by definition mentally “fucked up” due to both natural and situational causes of depression and the like, a person on meds for that depression and its side effects, a person who has/had the many side effects, disorders, issues that come with depression, including many relapses (no one’s perfect here), a person who is a victim of multiple sexual assaults, and the list goes on just as it would with many of you. 

My one difference that I may have from you is that I am a writer. I need to constantly spew my words or I will explode. These explosions piss others like no other. For many reasons, when I do explode and send lots of words to places, I seem and I think possible am on the verge of manic craze. Attending college made this more difficult after it ruined my writing (obviously I am healing from this being able to begin a blog). Moving to an area that I have always loved but where good therapists are hard to come by also has not helped. My psychiatrist though is the best one I have ever come to have known, so there’s a point for my glass half full. 

I also unlike most my age (stereotypical millennials) do not fake being a true lover of culture, art, history, and things that make us real and existing (not including the many, many moments of people being the shitty, disappointing pricks they/we usually are). I can interact and find conversation with any age group due to my love of culture (45 year-old moms love when they can report back to their kids that they met a twenty-something that didn’t at the time know you can send private messages on Instagram, and that was a mind blowing discovery for me by the way). 

Though I do not keep up with all the latest fucking fads out there that pop up like new spam in your inbox, I do typically need just 20 minutes to learn the ins and outs of the new piece of tech in question. When I sit down and actually put an attempt into learning whatever shit it is, I usually become quite adept. It’s the sitting and attempting part that gets me, the necessary motivation needed to strike just does not often arrive or sometimes ever arrive. 

I love puzzles and trivia so I hate to give up when I am attempting something. It’s a weird determination factor, I know, but it seems to help me out a decent amount when called for. Otherwise, yes, I irate those with my need for Jeopardy-like quizzing. It is one of the very few things I become truly competitive with. Another is foosball. 

I’m pretty sure there’s a numerous amount of dudes out there that think of me as that vodka game girl who was weird as fuck, telling their friends how I wanted to play more games instead of finding a place to do some hooking up (which was and still is because I typically need to be drunk in order to do more than a make out and a hand job, just how it is, thanks to other dudes/your peers).  

……………………………………………

Oh and heads up, I’ve been told I speak about shit that has happened in the past too often and have apparently considered myself a victim for too long. These are the same people that vent about the same boyfriend and other friend drama for years straight. I still listen.   

So, fuck not speaking about what has happened to you in the past! Those scars are there forever. They piss me off and I would like a way to fucking vent without bothering people that tell me they care about me. More about that shit later…. 

I apologize if my age old scars put major dampers when they come up in conversation but they’re there and lasting. 

……………………………………………….

My agenda with this blog is to tell the truth. Including truths that people do not often want to hear. I want to ramble and vent and if anyone out there wants to read my words, hopefully feel something, please do, and perhaps we won’t feel so alone.

XO babes, Jaded Vee 

#blog #assault #depression #eatingdisorder #therapy #sex #fuckedup #truth #animals #rape #scars #jadedtruth #jadedlip #veegreenekissed #veegreene

[taz-writes]

Feilan: Chapter 1 Excerpt

Since Feilan’s been getting a decent amount of attention lately, I figured it was time to post another excerpt! This is from the unfinished third draft of book 1, which is waiting patiently for my return once I’m done with the rough version of 4. 

I’ve sadly lost my list of people who asked to be tagged in fairy stuff, so if you were one of those people, please do let me know... I am tagging @jade-island-lives for encouraging me to post this, though. Also @pumapauus @stellarscribe @maplemoose because you guys cannot hide from me forever, you’ll have to read my books eventually, if need be I will wait until I meet up with yall IRL and physically hit you with my printed manuscripts. 

Without further ado, I present: the first half of chapter 1! 

1: Sayara

My favorite part of the Tsi Palace was always the library—it was a treasure trove of ancient knowledge and secrets, what’s not to love? When I was little, I’d spend hours in there, roaming through towering stacks of books and skipping between the columns of rainbow light that crept in through the stained-glass windows. No matter how chaotic the rest of the building was, being the center of the capitol of one of the largest tribes in Feilan and all, the library was always beautifully serene.

The serenity evaporated when I sprinted straight through the grand double doors at full tilt, skidding to a dusty halt just past the attendant’s desk. It was beautiful, incredible, until my foot went flying out from under me. I slammed butt-first into the fancy Cydre rug, slid, and plowed directly into the legs of the library attendant.

“Sayara?!” he exclaimed, catching himself on the corner of the desk as I dragged myself onto my feet and wheezed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I—”

“Good. All according to plan,” I gasped, clutching at a stitch in my side. “Nobody knows I’m here. And say hi to your brother for me!!” He rolled his eyes and straightened his jacket.

“Try not to knock over any students today.”

“Good chat, gotta go!!” I brushed library dust off of my scuffed-up breeches, before making a mad dash into the stacks.

“Sayara! I mean it, young lady, get back here!!” My governess’s strident voice rang through the atrium, and I sped up, holding back peals of lunatic laughter and jumping onto the nearest ladder.

The ceilings in here were high, but not quite high enough for proper flight, probably to discourage people like me from practicing their barrel rolls through the stacks. Once I reached the top of the ladder, I scrambled on top of the nearest shelf, but then I was stuck. I’d have to wait for one of the drifter cases to float by, or just crawl. I could see the governess now—Lady Brennadine loved manners, until it was time to chase me through the palace, at which point she abandoned them completely in favor of clenched fists and shouting.

I hesitated. I could jump, but I was too much of a klutz to land well. If I ran, I’d hit my head and fall, and then I’d crash into the academy students and I really didn’t want to hurt anybody. I was more agile than Brennadine, probably, since I was younger and smaller and I worked out sometimes instead of sitting around being mean to children, and I didn’t want to get in trouble but I could keep going, but…well, she was up the ladder.

“Down. Now.” Brennadine snapped her fingers, and I tried to crawl away along the top of the shelf, but my shoelace got snagged on a corner. I didn’t feel the resistance until I’d already stumbled and yanked myself over the side of the shelf.

I yelped, scrabbling at the books to catch myself, and knocked an entire row of encyclopedias away with me.

Brennadine’s hand came out of nowhere, and I grabbed on for dear life, and then everything stopped around me.

“How many times have we talked about this, again?” she reprimanded, clearly short of breath. Her eyes gleamed with magic. I would’ve shrugged, but I was too busy clinging to her unbelievably sweaty arm. “We—do not—climb—on top of the stacks.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, swinging my legs towards the shelf. I missed, kicking over more books, but there was a solid surface to land on when I swung back.

“She saw you enter,” the library attendant said, plucking a floating book out of the air and settling it back into place. “Oh, and Daevin says thanks. I hope you weren’t helping him cheat again.”

“It’s not cheating, it’s entrepreneurial studying.” I climbed down to ground level, firmly avoiding eye contact with Brennadine as she reassembled the library in a mist of teal-green telekinesis. She wouldn’t look at me, either.

If she wasn’t looking at me, then I had an opportunity, and I definitely wanted to get out of whatever stupid thing she wanted to waste my day off on. I took a few slow steps backwards, testing for a reaction. Nobody moved, so I backed away further. When I hit the next shelf, I broke into a run.

A stray book swung into the backs of my knees, tripping me. “Don’t,” Brennadine growled, replacing the book with a flick of her wrist. The library assistant had taken over the task of sorting through everything I’d knocked over. I laughed nervously.

“Sorry, but I think I need to study for that geometry test yesterday, since you told me to, so I’ll just—”

“Sayara.” Brennadine laid a hand on my shoulder, and I grimaced. “You need to behave with more grace.”

“I’ve got grace!”

“Is that so?” Brennadine raised her eyebrows, throwing a glance back towards the wreckage of the bookshelves.

“Well, unlike you, at least I wore pants today.”

“What? I’m wearing—SAYARA!!” Brennadine let go of me for an instant, checking her trousers, and I made a break for the exit. The doors slammed shut in front of me.

“Quiet in the library,” the attendant remarked from the stacks.

“Whatever you think I did, I didn’t!” I leaned up against the doors, swallowing reflexive, manic laughter. Brennadine pinched the bridge of her nose, visibly exhausted.

“This isn’t an accusation,” she said wearily. “This has nothing to do with whatever half-baked scheme you’ve worked out with the kitchen maids’ children.”

“Do you have a problem with the maids’ kids?” I asked. “Because they’re fun. More fun than anyone Hope talks to, and they know a lot, too--”

“Your sister is making social connections for the sake of her future career and kingdom. You should try it.”

I cleared my throat. “What do you want? It’s my day off, I don’t have any tutoring today.”

“Your father wants you to accompany him this afternoon,” Brennadine said, grimacing and preening her fingernails.

“Isn’t he busy?”

“Yes, Sayara, and he’s decided at far too late a moment that he wants you to accompany himself and your sister. Really, something so spur-of-the-moment—”

“What? Accompany him for what?”

“We’re disturbing the library,” Brennadine huffed, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me out into the corridor. “Sayara. Today is Kyvesse 14.”

“…Yes?”

“Sayara, have you been neglecting your politics lessons? You told me you had a passion for this, are you going to prove yourself wrong?”

“Why do you only use my name when you’re lecturing me?”

“You should know what’s going on this afternoon.”

“Um….” I was drawing a total blank. “There’s a…thing?” Brennadine stopped in her tracks, and I walked into her by accident, stumbling. “What?”

Brennadine didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned heavily against the wall, her head thumping against the wallpaper.

“There’s a thing. A thing.”

“Well, there is,” I confirmed, wracking my brains for any memory of whatever had Brennadine so worked up. She sucked in a long, nasal breath, and then exploded.

“The Convention of Tribes! Today is the Convention of Tribes, and your father, the Tsi King, is extending you a spur-of-the-moment invitation! A thing, this is only the most important national political event of the year—no one would normally dream of bringing their children of questionable origins along, but you’re going to be an exception. It’s fairly important!”

“Wait, you want me to come to the Convention??” I blurted out, a little too loud. “But that’s…”

“Ridiculously last-minute and ill-advised and going to threaten the fabric of the entire situation, yes. Four’s sake, child...”

“…I was going to say soon. Doesn’t it always start at noon?” I didn’t know exactly what time it was, but it sure wasn’t early, and the site of the Convention was a few hours away.

“I’ve been chasing you through the castle for two hours!” Brennadine said.

“I’ve only been running for a few minutes, though.”

“I want you dressed in your best suit and ready to leave in twenty minutes. Go.”

“But that’s barely any time at all!”

“You would’ve had more, if you’d listened to me instead of running off on a grand chase through the castle all morning,” Brennadine snapped. “Go.”

[literaryfaeriecorner]

02/21/2021: Promotions, Old Friends, and Yellow School Buses

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February 21st, 2021

somehow i received a promotion at work last Friday even though i am literally probably one of the LEAST motivated people teaching at that school... fuck. so... now, instead of just being a regular-schmegular teacher, i am now the '6th grade head social studies teacher' which means that i have to run planning meetings for the social studies team, attend morning meetings discussing whole-grade growth and failings, and solutions for how we're going to get the kids to... not suck. uuuuuuggggghhhhhh!!! and this is for the rest of the year and the next!!!!

apparently, i am the 'perfect person' for this position because all of my classes have consistently performed better than the rest... but between you, me, and the entire internet, that speaks more to the abilities of my students than my own personal abilities as a teacher. i don't believe i'm a sucky teacher or anything but the fact remains that between work, grad school, delusional lovesick-related episodes, mental illness, and other varying distractions, i am not Doing The Best I Can. in fact, i'm literally in survival mode 95% of the time. the other 5% of the time, i'm in manic-as-fuck mode. so... do i really DESERVE this promotion? who even fucking knows? i like to believe, however, that i'll eventually figure out how to bullshit this new responsibility as well and no one will be the wiser. i mean, if this promotion came with a financial boost as well, i'd be more inclined to not fuck it up but, like... i'm doing more work for the same weak ass pay... i'm not as motivated with kind words and encouragement than i would be with a solid boost to my pay grade. anyway... whatever.

i was on tumblr the other day (i am fasting from all social media sites during the day for Lent but tumblr doesn't count because i literally just reblog five or six posts into the void, look at sad literature quotes, and log out just to do it all over again the next day... i am not addicted to tumblr as i am to twitter, instagram, pinterest, and linkedin... yes, linkedin. my quest to escape my job has led me down a very weird and addictive path) and i came across this post by user beetlejuices:

"isn't it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?"

and it is. i think so. i really do.

one of the things i've been conscious of in my early adulthood is that i am still chasing after the friendships i had in middle school. i wrote about this two Lents ago too. there is a memory that i remember so vividly in middle school and it reminds me constantly about how i felt so loved and appreciated and like the world couldn't go on without me if i somehow left or disappeared or went away. i think about it all the time. that is how freeing and loving and whole it is. just a simple memory of being three hours late to school (after a huge, blown out argument between parents who should've divorced years ago) and being startled by a flood of texts that starting pouring in at 7 that morning.

ashley: YOOOO where r u? they snagged all the donuts from the corner store!

alysha: you missed the bus this morning?

ashley: i bought donuts off eman 4 u... say im the best :D

kiera: U MISSED CRYSTAL'S FAT HEAD ASS SLIP DOWN THE STEPS LMAOOO

kiera: u're always here early u good?

alysha: are you coming 2 school today?

ashley: are u ok?

Christyl: don't forget we have a test in math!! where are you?

kiera: babe?

ashley: are you ok? why is ur phone off?

alysha: i just talked to ashley are u ok?

Christyl: where r u?

kiera: i just talked to ashley r u ok?

kiera: none of ur sisters r here either... u ok?

ashley: i'll call again @ lunch

alysha: pls be safe

Christyl: i'll tell the teacher you're sick and maybe you can take it tomorrow

Christyl: are you ok?

and even more messages that were sent during and inbetween classes... i thought it was a bit too late (and too time consuming) to respond to them all individually so after being signed into school three hours late, i decided to wait for all my friends at our table in the cafeteria to surprise them before explaining my mess of a morning. i was nervous because i thought they would be mad at me for some reason. but as soon as they saw me, ashley, alysha, kiera, and christyl, they came barreling towards me screaming my name. it was an entire scene. people looking at them crazy and then raising their eyebrows at me, not seeing what the big deal was. i probably looked the same exact way that i did the day before. unspectacular, bookish, awkward. they couldn't see what the big deal was. it embarrassed me but it thrilled me at the same time.

they nearly knocked me to the floor pushing each other to get to me first trying to steal the first hug. in the end, i stretched my arms out as far as i could and they all fell into them. we probably looked a mess. a tangle of brown legs, arms, frizzy hair, loose braids, and scuffed dress shoes. i remember feeling so loved and wanted. i felt bigger and grander than i was. i had stopped the world for five entire minutes and i didn't do anything. i was just existing.

i don't really talk to any of the girls anymore. i follow them on social media and i wish them happy birthday every year and we're all on each other's close friends list on insta... so i still know a few, if not all, of their secrets... but we'll probably never be as close as we were in middle school. and that's ok. i still love them as much as i did when they tackled me in the lunch room that day. i still root and cheer for them like we still spend every night after school on the phone for hours talking shit and planning presidential campaigns and gossiping about boys. i will never forget that day in the lunchroom. ever. and, like i said, it has only occurred to me now, as a young adult, that i've been chasing that kind of friendship and sisterhood since it happened.

i like to treat all my friendships as mini-romances. i remember a tweet that said, "friendships ARE romance," and i agree. i think i'm in love with all of my close friends, if not all of my friends. it's embarrassing (just a bit) but i have probably fallen in love with all of my friends at least once or twice. this is especially true for my group of college friends (at this point, they are really family). i have been in love, at least once, with all eight of them throughout our four years. i don't actually find this embarrassing like i said earlier. what's embarrassing is that this information might embarrass other people which, in turn, would thoroughly embarrass me. but the fact itself doesn't embarrass me. that is how i am. i fall in love and out of love at breakneck speeds. i think it's important to be a little bit in love with your friends.

i really enjoyed being in undergrad and planning literal dates between all eight or nine of us. and we would call it that. "what are we doing for our date next weekend?" "so who's going on the date tomorrow?" "are we cancelling the date or does the weather not matter?" (the weather always mattered.) my favorite college date was valentine's day senior year. we all went to korean-style karaoke and ordered so much food and drink we could barely stand to sing. we were all sat around the tv singing horribly to mariah carey or beyonce or rapping to nicki minaj verses. we took so many bad pictures and tone deaf videos and we kept leaning or hugging or holding each other's hands. that's another thing i love about my college family. most of us are touchy-feely people. i am a touchy-feely person. i'm southern and my mom is ridiculously gooey so one of my love languages, inevitably, is touch. i, usually, reign it in A LOT unless i have a partner but in college, i somehow discovered a whole group of people who loved to kiss each other on the cheek and hold hands and lean on other people, and lock arms. i felt at home. really.

maybe it's not only about old friends, though. maybe it's about feeling at home.

there was another post on tumblr and i think about it a lot. it's a screenshot of a tweet from twitter user @HumbleCore.

"HUGE NEWS: finally found my best friend from middle school on FB. We've both been looking for each other for over a decade. I told her I think about her whenever I play any boardgame or drive by a church. She told me she uses my name as her password at work. A perfect reunion."

when i read that the other night, i cried. i don't know why. it was heavy and ridiculous and i was worried my roommates would hear me. i don't know why i cried. at all. and even typing it out like that made me want to cry again. the feeling is not as strong or as overwhelming as it was the first time but it's still there.

i think about a best friend i had in first grade. even before i thought of ashley as my best friend (i have known Middle School Ashley since the first grade. i thought we were destined to be best friends forever and ever and ever, which is what i wrote in her middle school yearbook). his name was Malik. or Malique. my memory fails me. but anyway, i loved him like crazy. we didn't do anything without the other. we shared lunch together, we HAD to be partners on every field trip, i cried when Ms. Sanchez moved my seat from his in an effort to stop us from disrupting her lessons and i hated her for an entire week. (a very long time from a first-grade perspective.) even now, i think about him whenever i go to petting zoos or farms and when i ride on yellow school buses with my students.

Malik/Malique was my first kiss. we were hiding from Ms. Sanchez and the other chaperones so we could pet the goats one last time. while we were hiding behind a barn, he kissed me. "for good luck," he said. and then we sprinted across the farm to get back to the goats. and we pet them again before Ms. Sanchez found us and ordered us back on the big yellow school bus where we held hands for the entire hour-long ride back to school.

it's very silly to think now but in high school when i was trying to determine whether i loved my first boyfriend or not i remember thinking, "well, does he make me feel like Malik/Malique?" it's silly but sweet. at fourteen, still comparing the way he made me feel behind a barn at 5 years old to how another boy, years and years later, made me feel. it is silly but i think it's sweet.

i don't actually have any interest in finding Malik/Malique or knowing for certain what he does or how he's doing because i seriously doubt i had such an impact on his life, but i hope he's well and alive and happy because that's what i always naturally hope for when i pass petting zoos or farms or see bright yellow school buses.

so, yes. i think everything, us, our relationships, the entire world, is about old friends. all of it. every last bit of it.

i have a whole-grade data analysis, 300 pages of reading, and two mini-papers for classes to finish before tonight so i'm going to get going... i just wanted to write about old friends first.