#I’m fine emotionally physically and mentally but I’ve had a weird pattern in the things I’ve been saying today specifically

[teamfortresstwo]

You okay king ?

No yeah I’m fine I’m just bored . Been having a weird day today so I dunno .

[spencerreidshortstories]

Daddy Issues?

Description:  this is a continuation from the last part. She opens up a lot due to the fact that she's on pain medicine. The college graduation part of this actually happened to me and I just thought I'd add it in.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None really.  She’s on medicine, but she is in the hospital, so . . . there is that.  Talk of negligent parenting and trust issues because of it.

Also, for those interested I have a Stranger Things fan fiction in the works - Steve Harrington - and an American Horror Story fan fiction - Michael Langdon.  They are not one-shots but multi-chapter connected things.  Anyway, onto this one . . .

Spencer stayed with her during visiting hours and through the night. She was allowed one person to stay with her and she had chosen him. His friends had come by to see her, Garcia bringing a teddy bear and flowers, and then her friends had come by as well. None of them had stayed too long, mostly because she had started to become overwhelmed but also because she'd gotten a headache and started to feel nauseated from the head wound. It was normal for someone with a concussion to experience those things, so he wasn't that worried.

Spencer hated hospitals – germs, the weird lights, just everything about them was unsettling to him – but he'd found that he couldn't say no when she'd asked him to stay. Knowing she would need a ride home tomorrow he'd even offered to take a personal day.

"You shouldn't take a personal day just for that. There are probably other things you'd like to do."

"You're gonna be in a lot of pain tomorrow," he said. "I mean, you're not going to be able to use your arm really, and you're still going to have a headache – you might have that for a while. You need someone to take you home and I really don't mind taking a personal day and spending it with you."

"I . . . Okay."

Her cheeks took on a pink tint, which really showed up since her face was otherwise pale due to blood loss and shock – even though she claimed she was fine.

He hadn't really left her side since he'd gotten there even when she had drifted in and out of sleep between other people visiting. He'd gotten up to go get food and coffee and that was it.

"Spencer?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for everything. For coming when I called and staying because I asked you to. I'm – I'm really not used to that."

"What? Someone being a good friend?"

"No. A guy being nice to me without wanting something in return. I mean, even my dad doesn't really talk to me unless he needs something from me."

"I'm sorry. I, uh . . . never really knew my dad. He left when I was young and what I do remember isn't great. I think he wanted a more normal family."

"Oh. Well, that's on him. Not you."

Spencer still hadn't talked to her about his mother and all he'd gone through with that and he honestly didn't know when he should bring it up. He knew if he really wanted to be with her that he would have to be honest about it so that she wouldn't possibly be going into something blind, but now definitely wasn't the time to bring it up. He did know that.

"I think . . . I think the reason I like you so much is because you're, like, the exact opposite of my dad."

"Uh-oh. Latent daddy issues?" he teased.

She shook her head and laughed a little. "No. And don't make me laugh. It's not helping my head at all."

"Sorry, sorry." He smiled. "What did you mean then?"

"Well, just little things mostly, but you're already different in that the last time I was in the hospital my dad never even came to see me and he kind of got annoyed at me when I called him. I was still living with my grandmother at the time so he wasn't even that far away and he didn't come see me. Didn't ask how I was when I talked to him."

"I would never not come see you if you were in the hospital. And I'm never annoyed when you call me. I like hearing from you."

She went on as though he hadn't spoken, but he knew she'd heard him.

"He's always late. If he says he's going to be somewhere at a certain time, you can bet he's going to be at least an hour later than that. He has no time management skills at all. You've never kept me waiting – ever."

Spencer noticed that her voice was getting softer and he was sure she was going to talk herself to sleep. It was getting darker and the nurse had given her medicine to relax her, so it wouldn't be abnormal for her to fall asleep from it.

"You know, he even almost missed my college graduation. He knew the ceremony was at 11:00 and he waited until the morning of to go to the laundromat – the washer at his house was broken, and don't even get me started on how long it took him to get a new one. But anyway, it fits his pattern. He's late for everything – bills, insurance, even getting the tags on his car renewed, which meant I chauffeured him around a lot when I lived near him. He knew I would do it, so why bother?"

Now her voice was soft because she had tears in her eyes and was about to cry. Spencer realized the medicine must've made her thoughts and mouth a little looser. She'd never really talked about her dad before.

"I used to be afraid of him. He could get so angry, and I've never seen you angry. I mean, yeah, you've been upset, but you never shout or hit things or throw things."

Spencer's back stiffened as tension filled him. For one, he hoped she wasn't implying what he thought she was, and two . . . he hoped she didn't regret telling him this when the medicine wore off.

"He was angry a lot when I was a kid. But the worst was that you could do something one time and he'd be fine with it. The next time you do it, he would pitch a fit. I would walk on egg shells around him a lot of the time. I'm glad I didn't actually live with him. I mean, he never hurt me or anyone else, but he would still hit the wall or something, still scare us sometimes."

Spencer had no clue what to say to any of that and sometimes the best thing to do was just listen and not say a word, so that was what he did. He did, however, let himself process that she'd been through a form of mental abuse as a child – she probably didn't even consider it that. Victims of abuse sometimes didn't think of what they went through as abuse. Some even came to think of it as normal.

"He was really hard to get close to. I mean, you couldn't even have a conversation with the guy. He would stop talking to you if you didn't agree with what he said."

"I love talking with you," he said. "I wouldn't stop talking to you just because we don't agree on something."

Her not liking loud or sudden noises made sense now – not that sensory overload didn't make sense, but this could be another reason for it. She'd grown up around yelling and anger.

"And, to be honest, you're not someone I can imagine being mad at or not enough to shout at you. I don't get that type of angry. I don't want you to ever be afraid of me."

"I never have been," she said. "Despite you being a profiler, you're pretty open emotionally . . . or at least you have been with me.

"I have," he agreed. It was almost disconcerting to him. "Anything else I need to clarify?"

"I don't know. I – he never physically left my mom, but sometimes it was like he did. He would go years without a job and she'd have to make do on a minimum wage job – retail or something like that and sometimes she'd have to not pay a bill just so they would have food on the table. And he was there. That's the thing. He was physically there, he just wouldn't be working or providing for his family, for my mom and my brother. It used to make me so mad and I wasn't even living with them."

Her dad sounded like he had a classic case of the Peter Pan Syndrome and had never wanted to grow up. He imagined her dad had never had to answer for anything he'd done as a child and so didn't know how to take responsibility for anything.

"I don't mind taking care of you," he said softly, "if you'll let me."

She didn't respond vocally, but she did let a small smile grace her lips even as a few more tears fell down her cheeks.

"I think you should sleep," he said. "I think the medicine is making you say things you might not have."

"Probably. But I'm glad I'm saying it to you and not someone else."

She calmed herself down and closed her eyes, but she still didn't sleep. He knew because a few minutes later she was looking to him again.

"Can I hold you hand again?" Her voice was quiet and a little hoarse even. "I know you don't, you know, really do that, but you let me earlier."

He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning and offered up his hand.

"Apparently I don't mind with you."

"Hm." She slipped her hand over his and slid her fingers between his. "I will consider myself special then."

"Very special.

It didn't take long for her to go to sleep once she decided to stay quiet for more than a few minutes. He stayed there in the chair beside her that night. Not that he'd been planning on leaving, but after her confessing all of the things she had he would've stayed with her anyway. He would not have left her to feel vulnerable when she woke up the next morning.

In a way, he was glad she'd opened up to him. In a completely different way, he wasn't, because he now felt he really had to open up to her too – especially since he was feeling a certain type of way about her. There were parts of his past he was scared to share with her – things that had nothing to do with his mom at all and more to do with his job and things that had come about because of his job.

She would have to know about them before he let her know how he felt about her because it seemed she felt for him at least some of what he was feeling for her.

He would have to be honest with her.

[amandaklwrites]

Movie Review: Practical Magic (1998)

Genre: Drama/Fantasy/Magical Realism

Rating: 10/10

Movie Review:

I love this movie. I think I somehow loved it even more the second time around. I love how that can even be possible.

Now, I will start out by saying that I had only watched this movie for the first time like two or three years ago, after reading the book. So, I never grew up with this movie, I never saw it growing up at all. I saw it as an adult. For someone who loves witchy things, I don’t know how this one escaped me for so long. It just never came about.

About a week or so ago, I was having a really rough time. I had just purchased this DVD at my work when I realized I personally didn’t own it. So, in some weird twist of my feelings, my mom and I watched it really late at night, the night before a storm rolled through. Which was pretty appropriate in my opinion.

And I loved it even more this time. It lifted my spirits, it brought me back to myself, it reminded me a lot of things of myself.

Like I said, I read the book before watching this movie that few years ago, and I did like the book a lot. But I think after reading Hoffman’s latest book, Magic Lessons, about their ancestor Maria Owens, and loving the shit out of it, I found even more of an appreciation for her other books (I’m planning to read the other books from this “world” really soon, so I’ll make some book reviews soon). So, I think that’s also why I loved this movie even more so now than I did before.

The top thing I love about this movie is the feeling of it. If you’ve seen this movie and love it, you’ll know what I mean. I like that it’s set in our own world, but it doesn’t have the feeling of urban fantasy (think Shadowhunters and such). It just feels like everyday life, but this family has some extra powers. They’re mystical, mysterious, but not evil. So, in some interesting way, it doesn’t make the movie feel out of place or fantastical. But that there could be that strange family that lives on the end of your street that everyone calls witches, and in fact, they are.

Then, I love the two main sisters. Sally and Gillian couldn’t be any more different. They’re the complete opposites. And they seem like typical series—they argue, they fight, but they love one another deeply. I think some of their deep connection comes from the shared trauma—they lost their father, and then their mother, and they were all that they had in the world. To me, if that wasn’t factored in, I don’t think they would be as close as they ended up being. I’m not saying that they wouldn’t have loved and cared about one another as much. But that their connection to each other wouldn’t have been the same. Yes, they had their aunts, but ultimately, they only had each other. They grew with one another through that sadness, through looking at the world in this specific lense. They protected one another even more ferociously because they understood one another and they didn’t want the other to be hurt. Though they didn’t get along all the time, and maybe Sally didn’t agree with Gillian’s decisions, she still rushed off to help her sister get away from an abusive bastard without a second thought. That is the bond of sisters, especially their sisterhood.

Personally, I like Sally. Not that I hate Gillian or anything. I like Gillian—I think she’s worldly, she’s different, she isn’t afraid to be who she is. But I think she also has insecurities for her to constantly be with these same men who aren’t… let’s say, they aren’t the greatest. And she had to know that Jimmy Angelov wasn’t the best guy, so why even bother? But that’s because she has her own personal issues and doesn’t think that great of herself (trust me, I read her like a book, because I have been very similar most of my life). At least with this rewatch recently, I connected with Sally WAY more. Her and I have similar personalities—though, I’m fine with being different, I would prefer to have powers than pretend to be “normal.” She’s a lot more analytical and grounded and serious about things, like me, and tries to keep on a certain path. She loses her husband and falls apart (I haven’t had this, but I feel like I would react the same). I think her character arc/personal journey was more of my thing nowadays. She had to let go of controlling everything, that not everything was “normal” or had to be a certain way. She had to let go of some things, to let the universe take its course and she should just enjoy it along the way. That feels more like me.

The other characters were great too. I think the aunts, Frances and Bridget were polar opposites as well (do you see the pattern of two sisters, that are quite different from one another—think of Sally and Gillian, the aunts, even Sally’s daughters). But they balanced one another out, and that was why they worked so well together—which is the case with Sally and Gillian. Dianne West and Stockard Channing played the sisters so effortlessly. Goran Višnjić as Jimmy Angelov was both sexy and disturbing, but he did it so well (too well, honestly), and I personally think he’s a fantastic actor from other stuff I’ve seen him in (any Timeless fans here???). I liked Aidan Quinn as the detective, Gary, and a love interest for Sally. Their personalities worked so well. OH! I nearly forgot! Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman were PERFECT in this movie! I love them both so much, especially everything I see Sandra in, and they were these characters. Not playing them, they just were.

(Fun movie fact that I learned: in the scene where Sally, Gillian and the aunts get drunk? They were drunk filming! They wanted to make it feel more real, so they all started drinking and the director started filming it all. I think that was such a nice touch).

I will say, I didn’t love the whole exorcism thing in the movie. I get the point of it for the movie, and it is Hollywood guys, plus it did make the story more “exciting” in that climax. And though I do agree that there can be malevolent energies that linger, but I don’t personally believe that there are evil spirits that want to take over bodies. But that’s my own personal beliefs, so I can’t speak for everyone. I just didn’t care for that, but it made for some good aspects in that scene.

At the heart of this movie, it’s about love. Which, honestly, is what every story in this world, whether fictional or real life is about. It’s about the sisters’ love for one another, it’s about how they love out in the world. Sally had loved and lost, and has to learn to love again, including herself. Gillian has to learn that some of what she feels isn’t love, and that love is kinder to you than she had been treating herself/letting happen. And they both get through it all with their love for one another. My god, that scene where Sally talks to Gillian to come back to them during the exorcism is so powerful and heartbreaking, and I cried watching it. That these two sisters love one another so much that Sally wasn’t going to let Gillian let go and leave this world because everything hurt (physically and emotionally and mentally, I think could be said here). Sally was the only one who would get Gillian through that moment, because she had to go through the similar thing with her loss. Even all the women showing up to help with the exorcism is a form of love (though, I did wonder why some of these women suddenly were okay with coming and helping, but it must connect back to what I had said). This was love and women coming together to help each other, to support one another, which I think the world needs more of. And this movie reflected it.

I love the feeling I get from watching this movie. I love the house they live in (why couldn’t it be real?!). Every time I watch this movie, it makes me wish I had a sister of my own, because though I have close friends or a friend that grew up with me like a little sister, I have never had this connection like Sally and Gillian had. I’m an only child, so no siblings at all. And though I know it can’t be pretty all the time (from what I have seen with friends who have siblings, and even things that happen in this movie), I always wanted someone to have my side like these two, someone I share blood with, that has literally seen every side of me. It’s beautiful to watch in this movie, especially in that scene when Gillian shows up to Sally during her grief and they just talk all night. That exactly is what I had always wanted. So this movie makes me feel wistful too while watching it.

It’s really a beautiful movie, that shows the darkness of the world and people, while delighting us with the magic as well. The magic of the world, the magic of fantastical nature, and the magic of love. Because though you may not be able to make a spoon stir your tea for you, there is magic all around. You just have to look for it.

This movie is one that has become a favorite and has a special place in my heart. It’s just wonderful and awe-inspiring.

[noctuascion]

Hi! I have a Cryptage prompt, if you're still taking them, because my writing brain appears to be taking the day (week? month? year??) off. Basically crypto feeling insecure about how many adoring fans Mirage has, and not being able to be comfortable with other people telling Mirage that they're "in love" with him. :)

Oh, hello there!! I'm always taking prompts!! And, yeah, I feel that. Lol. I'll gladly take your prompt, though!! Thank you!!!

--

Park didn't belong in the spotlight for a multitude of reasons: he was terse, quiet, preferred his privacy, and was just uncomfortable with it in general. Crypto wasn't meant for the limelight in general—he was to be a mysterious character with little care for interviews and what his fans said about him.

Elliott, however, thrived on the attention, Mirage a prime example of someone made to live with all eyes on him. He was spectacular in the ring and able to charm his adoring public, all bright smiles and dazzling moves. His fans were eager to show their love for Elliott, Park noticed, one afternoon the two were spending together.

Elliott was reading some fan mail whilst Park was busying himself drawing on the trickster's arm, sleeve rolled up and intricate patterns marked along the tanned canvas, flowers and cats occasionally tossed into the mix. Elliott never minded. They always reminded him of really cool tattoos, and he didn't want to get any anytime soon, so he was fine with Park just drawing all over him (even if it was a pain to clean off later).

However, the hacker's curious gaze couldn't help but shift towards the letter currently in hand. It was from some female fan that had been watching Elliott ever since his first year of competing. There were a lot of sweet comments, about how he helped her move on from toxicity in her life, and that his smile was enough to make her a happier woman. He could see Elliott smiling as well; improving someone's life must make him joyful.

But Park didn't miss the confession near the very bottom, the typical "I'm in love with you." Elliott apparently received the phrase a lot—and not just counting the night they got together. For someone like Elliott, love never came easy, despite his desperate attempts to find someone to use all of that love in his heart on, to find someone to dedicate his existence to. Some people could be heartless, treating him like a ticket into a better life, and others abused him emotionally to get what they wanted. He had to grow thicker skin, learn from his mistakes, before he truly sought out someone that made his world worthwhile. Park commended his confidence and bravery. He's never been in relationships before, but leaving toxic ones must take a lot out of one mentally and emotionally.

Still, rereading that letter, the constant praises and adoration, the love for Mirage and everything he does, caused a feeling far too familiar to the man to wash over his mind, normally hectic thoughts beginning to run wild. Park wasn't one for letting insecurities bother him, but it seemed they, like a lot of things, made him feel uneasy, unhappy.

Elliott folded the letter with one hand, setting it aside, before pulling another one from his pile, this time temporarily taking the hacker's canvas away to rip the envelope open, arm returning to its prior stationary position. Again, though Park had tried to focus on drawing, his eyes drifted over the letter, though he wish he hadn't, as this fan appeared to be less shameful with their desires. He's sure, if Elliott peeked at him, he'd be flushed pink.

This time, though, the confession was within the first three paragraphs, third sentence of the second one. "I love you so much. I want to live my life with you," he read, frowning. People clamoring over themselves to be with Elliott—it was almost pitiful, but, then again, he didn't expect much from fans. Even his own can be a bit rowdy, though they appear much more mellow compared to his partner's.

The trickster didn't smile this time, just folding and tossing the letter aside without much change in expression. Another letter was opened up, arm returning to Park (even though he's become far too distracted to even think about drawing right now), and began reading the next one.

Once again, a love confession could be seen in the final paragraph, though it was far more poetic than simply "I'm in love with you." She had taken time writing this, it seemed, pouring her heart out on paper to this complete stranger she only knows via the television.

"Every waking day without seeing you is a strike to my heart. Your smile is radiance, and your very being is joy. My desire for you goes beyond physical, a wish to see within your heart, to let our souls intertwine in a dance for only us to see. I want everything you are, everything you'll ever be."

Elliott's fans really were adoring, if that was anything to go by. Park wasn't jealous by any means—frankly, were he to receive such letters, he can only see himself tearing them up and throwing them out. Elliott would scold him, saying someone put a lot of work into those, and Park would retort with: "They should spend time sending those types of letters to someone whose name they actually know."

That same feeling earlier returned, insecurity gnawing at his heart. Dour expression crossing his visage, his hand released Elliott's, marker pulled away, immediately alerting the other. Curious, the trickster reached out to poke the other's cheek, downcast eyes now moving to meet his own.

"Hey sweetheart, something on your mind?" he asked, hand dropping to place itself on the other's shoulder, an attempt at reassurance.

"… No."

Elliott raised a brow. "So you just look super depressed just 'cause?"

"… Yes."

A soft snort escaped Elliott, tossing the letter aside and moving to wrap an arm around the smaller's shoulders. "You and I know that's bullshit. Come clean and I won't get the information through other means."

The dangerous wiggling of his fingers was enough to tell Park just how he'd "gather information."

"Fine. But promise not to be mad at me…?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, sugar pie. Probably a biological thing."

Park released a breath, head moving to lean on Elliott's shoulder. "I was… reading the letters your fans sent you…"

"… Is… Is that it? 'Cause, if it is, I think we need to have a talk about what makes you feel guilty and why it's dumb."

Park scoffed, though it was more amused than annoyed. "No, that's not it. But… you have a lot of… caring fans."

"Emphasis on 'caring' makes me think you might be meaning a different word entirely."

"They're affectionate… and kind… and they say nice things about you…"

"… Are you… jealous—? Have I not been saying enough nice things about you?"

"No, no, you say enough—probably too much, actually. But, no, I just… I don't think I like your fans saying how much they love you. It makes me think, one day, they'll make you feel more loved than I do…"

Elliott couldn't wipe the shock from his expression, immediately unwrapping his arm from Park's shoulders to place his hands on them instead, turning him so he was now face-to-face. The hacker's gaze had fallen once again, dourly staring at the copious amounts of love letters Elliott received on a daily basis.

In the end, that's all they were to him—just letters. They never amounted to the smile he got to see everyday, the gentle kisses and careful touches, the sweet feeling of his beloved's hands in his own, and nothing could ever amount to the three little words Park so seldom uttered, the way his cheeks would tinge pink and the sheepish tone that replaced his confident, cool one.

He couldn't imagine trading any of that for empty words spoken by fans.

"Hey, angel? Who do you know me as?" he asked.

"… I suppose I know you as Elliott."

"And who do my fans know me as?"

"I… I guess they only know you as Mirage."

"They get to see that persona of me, the fake me."

Elliott's hands began sliding down Park's arms, tracing gently over the smooth skin, feeling the change between real and synthetic skin, before gently grasping his hands in his own.

"They see the smile I wear when I don't want people knowing what I'm feeling. They see me acting cool and confident, and they don't ever see Elliott, the guy who just wants to own a bunch of dogs and has as many insecurities as he does kills in the arena."

Park's hands were raised now, Elliott craning his neck just a bit to press kisses to the knuckles, smiling at the other, who was beginning to look less and less dour and more surprised by the trickster's words.

"You get to see me, Elliott Witt, the guy who drools on your hoodies and accidentally chews on your hair because he thinks it's cotton candy."

That broght forth a laugh from the hacker, trying to pull a hand away from Elliott's to cover it, but the trickster was adamant in seeing his smile, hearing his laugh.

"And I get to see you in all your own dorky glory."

"I'm not dorky. You just bring out the weird in people," Park responded through his fit of giggles, any trace of sadness or insecurity having faded from his visage, only replaced by mirth and joy.

"That, I do." Elliott smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to Park's forehead. "I'd never leave you, pancake. You're the only person on the Frontier who would still love me even after hearing about all my baggage. I'm a mess, but I've never heard you complain."

"Maybe when you're drooling on me."

Elliott smiled, chuckling. "Yeah, you do complain about that a lot."

"But, even if you drool on me, I still… love you."

"And I love you too, darling."

[emospritelet]

#45 — “This should warm you up.” For the continuation of the Original Sin verse, please!

It’s Christmas Eve, and Belle just gave demon!Gold the news that she’s pregnant. Please see AO3 for tags as there are weird consent issues running throughout this series, despite Gold’s honesty with Belle about what he is. 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [AO3]

x

Belle waited for the outburst. She had expected shock, disbelief, even anger. On the journey up from New York, she had mentally run through his likely reactions to her news, and had considered the best response to each of them. She had thought she was ready for all of those emotions, and had braced herself for the onslaught. What she didn’t expect was his usual thin smile.

“Well,” he said. “It seems that you and I need to have a conversation. Would you care for some tea?”

Belle blinked.

“What?”

“Tea,” he said patiently. “I have a rather nice Earl Grey. Or there’s peppermint, if you prefer.”

She shook her head.

“Did - did you hear what I just said?”

“Of course.”

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated. “Pregnant. With your baby.”

“Yes,” he said slowly and carefully. “I heard you the first time.”

Belle felt her brow crease in confusion.

“You - you don’t seem surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, surprised.” She gestured to her belly. “I’m having a baby. Our baby. You’re gonna be a father.”

“Yes.” He was looking as confused as she felt. “Are you telling me you were surprised?”

“Well, yeah!” Belle threw up her hands and let them drop.

“But we talked about children,” he said. “About you becoming a mother. You said it was what you wanted.”

“Yes, at some point, I meant!” she said. “At some point in the future, when I was married and settled with the love of my life! Not after a - a one-night-stand with an antique dealer!”

Gold winced.

“Ouch.” He shook his head. “Then why did you agree to go to bed with me?”

Belle put her hands on her hips.

“Seriously?” she remarked. “You’re putting this all on me?”

“I’m not putting anything on you,” he said, looking bewildered. “I’m delighted that you’re having my child.”

“So am I!” she blurted, and snapped her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth.

Gold sighed, looking down at where his fingers were poised on the counter top.

“Belle, I have to confess I’m not entirely sure what it is you’re angry with me about.”

“I’m not angry, I’m just…” She faltered, trying to find the words. “I guess I’m confused. I thought you’d be mad.”

“Why?” he said, looking every bit as confused as she felt.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly planned, was it?” she said impatiently. “Given that I was taking birth control!”

“Birth control?”

If anything he looked even more confused, and she felt like picking up his present and hitting him over the head with it.

“Yes, Damien, birth control!” she snapped. “You know, the pills that people take to stop them getting pregnant?”

“Ah.” His fingers drummed slowly on the counter. “Well, I’ve heard of them, of course. You were taking those?”

“Yes!”

He shrugged. “They weren’t working.”

“Well, I know that now!” she said sarcastically. “Blame Roni and her cupcake supplier with his activated charcoal fixation!”

Gold closed his eyes, then shook his head before glancing at her again.

“I have no idea what you just said, but let’s get back to the matter at hand,” he said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were - trying not to be pregnant. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well…” She folded her arms and leaned on the counter with a sigh. “I guess we didn’t really talk about contraception, did we? I was too desperate to get in your pants.”

Gold grinned.

“Oh, I assure you the feeling was mutual,” he said. “Now. How about that tea?”

“You’re taking this very calmly,” she remarked, and he shrugged.

“As I said, I’m delighted at the news,” he said, and gestured to the side, where a pattern curtain hung across a doorway. “Please, come on through to the back room. I’ll lock up, so we can have some privacy.”

Belle gave him a long look, wanting to shake her head. No one’s this calm. Not about stuff like this. What is his deal?

“Well, I guess it’s pretty cold out there,” she said eventually. “Tea would be great.”

x

The back room of the shop turned out to be a cluttered sanctuary of antiques, with shelves filled with old books, assorted glassware, and boxes of what she assumed was china wrapped in newspaper. There were two large wooden workbenches, one with pieces of what looked like a brass scientific instrument laid out on black velvet. A single bed was tucked into a corner, covered in a dark red blanket, and she wondered if he ever slept at the shop.

“Please, take a seat,” said Gold from behind her, and she set her bag on the workbench and slid onto one of the wooden stools, taking off her scarf and gloves.

She watched as he made tea, boiling water in a kettle, spooning tea into a pot and setting out two china cups and saucers. Steam rose as he poured boiling water into the pot and stirred it. She could smell the tea, a pleasant, tannin-laced bitterness in the air. A small fridge tucked behind an old painted screen held milk, and once the tea was poured, Gold added a dash to each cup, setting them in saucers and carrying them to the bench.

“Here,” he said. “This should warm you up.”

“Thank you.”

The tea was steaming gently, so she left it to cool for a moment. The cup was white, with a blue pattern on one side, the saucer rimmed in gold. She wondered if it was part of a collection that he was planning on selling, or whether it was his own.

“So many things in here,” she said, glancing around the room. “You could probably open another shop.”

“This one keeps me busy enough,” he said.

“You don’t want to expand?” asked Belle. “I’d love to, if the bookstore was more successful.”

“Oh, I know your ambitions,” he said, as he put the milk back in the fridge. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance there.”

“I think any ambitions I had will have to take a back seat for a while,” she said. “I’ll need to find someone to run the store while I’m looking after the baby, for a start. It won’t leave much spare money to think about restocking, never mind expanding.”

Gold turned to face her, leaning back against the wooden counter. His eyes were gleaming at her, hints of gold in their dark depths.

“Well, let’s talk about that,” he said. “Firstly there’s your welfare, and the child’s. Are you well?”

“I - yeah, I’m fine. We’re both fine.”

“In order to ensure that continues, please allow me to pay for any medical insurance or expenses you might need.”

“I have insurance,” she said immediately. “Of course, it doesn’t cover everything, but—”

“I’ll make sure you want for nothing,” he said. “You mentioned getting help in to run the shop? Employing someone? I can pay for that.”

“Oh,” she said, shifting on the stool. “Well, that’s very kind, but you don’t have to. I didn’t come here looking for money as such, it was more…”

“More what?” he asked softly, and Belle licked her lips.

“I suppose I wanted to see whether you were interested in being a part of this child’s life,” she said. Of our lives.

“And so I am,” he said briskly. “I want to ensure this child knows where it comes from and is fully prepared for its future. And I’m prepared to compensate you very well for the sacrifice you’re making.”

“Sacrifice?” said Belle, confused. “I - I don’t understand.”

He had turned away, taking a piece of paper from the nearest workbench and a pen from the pot on the counter. She listened to him scribble briefly on the paper.

“I’m aware that bearing this child will be a burden on you, physically and emotionally,” he said. “I want to help as much as I can. So I want to give you this.”

He turned, holding out the piece of paper. There was a figure written on it, next to a dollar sign. Belle read it once, blinked, then read it again.

“Is this a joke?” 

Gold’s mouth twitched.

“I never joke,” he said quietly. “It’s one aspect of human nature I never quite managed to grasp.”

“This is a fortune,” she said, and he shrugged.

“You could buy that loft apartment,” he said. “Open that chain of bookshops. It’s what you wanted, correct?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting you to buy it for me!”

“In exchange for what you’re giving me, the price seems more than fair.”

Belle stared at him, but he kept the same steady expression. After a moment she shook her head, trying to understand what was happening.

“Okay, for now let’s leave aside this - uh - offer, and talk about what we’re gonna do about the baby,” she said, and Gold pursed his lips, nodding.

“Alright.”

“You - you want to pay me a huge sum of money for looking after this child,” she said, in a flat tone. “But you also want to be a part of its life. So - what are we talking about here? Some sort of child support arrangement where you turn up once a fortnight and take it for fast food and a movie?”

Gold shook his head emphatically.

“Oh no,” he said. “I want to bond with my child, but I don’t feel that noisy human entertainment is conducive to that.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, and he took the stool across from her, knees parted and hands folded loosely in his lap.

“I’d like to share responsibility for teaching the child to read,” he added. “I want to take it out to the woods, introduce it to the natural world, teach it to identify herbs and fungi and poisonous plants. And when it gets older there are runes and crystals. Latin will be essential, of course, but there are other ancient languages which I’ve found very useful over the years.”

Belle opened her mouth, realised she had no idea how to respond, and closed it again, picking up her tea to take a drink in order to collect her thoughts.

“Of course, as soon as the child turns five, I expect you’ll want me to take it,” he added.

Belle almost choked on her tea, and set it down, wiping drops of hot liquid from her chin.

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why would I want that? I want to raise this child myself! I mean if you want to be involved, that’s great, but I can’t think of any reason why I would ever hand it over to you for good!”

“Oh, it’s just that as they get older, our children tend to do better with their own kind,” he said helpfully. “That’s not a criticism of you or your parenting abilities, it’s just a fact.”

Belle shook her head, as though by doing so she could have his words make sense.

“What do you mean, ‘their own kind’?” she asked, puzzled. “Do you have some sort of hereditary condition? Why do you think that would matter to me?”

“I mean demons,” he said lightly, lifting one hand and spreading his fingers. “Incubi. Succubi. Whichever our child turns out to be. There are those that shift in between, of course, but it’s rare that one of those is produced. I’d say not in twenty years, to my knowledge. At least not that I’ve heard. Given that I’ve been tucked away in this town for decades there are probably a great many things going on that have passed me by.”

Belle stared at him.

“What?” she snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Gold sat back on his stool, knees parting further in their fine wool pants, that tiny smile back on his face.

“I’m just letting you know that since the child is mine it will be different to a regular human child, that’s all,” he said patiently. “I can’t predict how those differences will manifest, and it’s possible that you may find them difficult to deal with. My own mother abandoned me in an alehouse when I was barely old enough to walk. I’ve had to make my own way in the world, and I certainly don’t want my child to do the same.”

“I - that’s terrible, but I don’t…” Belle shook her head. “Look, I realise that my hormones are doing weird things right now, but it sounded like you were saying that you’re a demon, and so is our child.”

Gold looked puzzled.

“Well, I am.”

Belle glared at him.

“Would you stop making fun of me?” she demanded. “This is serious!”

“I’m being serious!” he insisted. “I told you what I was before you went to bed with me.”

“Yeah, as a joke!”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Belle, I wasn’t joking,” he said patiently. “I told you, I don’t joke. Everything I told you was the absolute truth.”

Belle ran her hands over her face, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. I should have known it was too good to be true. No one’s that calm when they get a bombshell dropped on them.

“Look, I think maybe we should both take a little time to process this,” she said, through her fingers. “It’s clear this has been as much of a shock to you as it was to me.”

“I’m not shocked,” he said. “I told you. I look forward to meeting our child.”

“Let’s take a little time,” she repeated. “Sleep on it. Think about what this means for both of us. For all of us.”

“Thinking about it won’t change my mind.”

“You can’t know that,” she snapped. “Anyhow, I’m staying at the inn, so - uh - why don’t we both talk again after we’ve had some rest? It was kind of a long journey and I'm not convinced I didn't fall asleep on the bus and dream this whole encounter.”

He was gazing at her with an unreadable look on his face.

“Alright.”

“Great.” She pushed to her feet. “Thanks for the tea. And for not yelling about the baby. I don’t handle raised voices all that well. Especially now.”

“As I said.” His tone was almost a whisper. “I’m delighted at the news.”

“Right.”

She wound her scarf around her neck, and snatched her gloves up from the workbench, pulling them on. She could feel Gold’s eyes on her, running over her skin like spectral fingers, as though he could touch her without moving from his seat. It made her shiver, but the sensation was far from unpleasant.

“Right,” she said again. “I’ll - um - see you tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow,” he said quietly.

Belle nodded, and took a step past him, that sensation of being touched with his eyes making her skin hum and her pulse throb in her throat. Her pace quickened as she entered the shop, and she reached the door without stopping, the bell tinkling as she wrenched it open and stepped out into the frigid night air. A plume of white billowed out into the air as she let out the breath she had been holding. Well. That’s one reaction I definitely didn’t predict.

[gumnut-logic]

okay okay 34 and 39!! 😁

Well, this proves little other than I know how to ramble and not really answer a question :D But I did try :D

34.  What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

Ooooh, you’re reaching into long term WIP territory, basically because they are long term WIP sometimes for this reason.

‘The Price’ this fic is incomplete even though I know how it ends and how to get there. I really should just sit down and write it as Sotto Voce is a special universe for me. I think the problem is that at heart I am not a violent or severe hurt-loving person. I got Virgil into a position that just hurt. I broke him both physically and mentally and it was actually affecting me and I had to step away from the fic (which is kinda sad and pathetic, but writing is such an involving experience for me, it is really full on and immersive and my mood can be fragile (and annoying)).

I’ve also found the ends of fics to often be a challenge. I often throw out one liners in the middle of stories that sound great at the time, but when the fic comes to an end I have to tie it all together. It can go from fun to actual hard work to tie everything up and find an end. A good example of this is A Little Chaos. That one is caught up on a resolution issue. I had one thing planned, but tried something else and I’m not happy with it – there are over 2000 words of it (I think) unpublished sitting on my ipad. I need to go back and re-orchestrate it.

I used to have a sign up in my studio – TO START IS FUN, BUT TO FINISH IS ECSTACY. Endings are hard.

But for scenes I have actually written…ack, there are so many and my memory is so poor. I have stress feelings from the second half of Gentle Rain – the brothers were hurting a lot and relationships strained. Fischler vs Tracy was a technical challenge – I had to research NZ law and procedure for that one and ended up fluffing most of it because I don’t have the brain for it. Still crossing my fingers a lawyer or court person doesn’t read it and cringe badly. Control & Understanding also sucked because there was so much yelling between Scott and Virgil ::wails:: So much hurt.

Let’s just say I’m rather too emotionally connected to my characters when writing. Nutty can hurt herself if she is not careful :D

That and if it gets too hard, Nutty doesn’t write it :D

 39.  Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

::grins:: The first one to come to mind is rainbow farting Virgil in Prank War, but that was really Veggie’s fault :D

::fights forgetful brain:: All sorts of weird things pass through my distracted brain, but only a few actually land on the page.

The whole Marks & Wings AU is pretty out there for me. I haven’t traditionally been an AU writer, well not beyond picking a point in canon and branching off. The embryonic scene that was the first inkling of Marks & Wings is special to me, despite the fact I rewrote it in the fic that eventually joined the series.

He held his breath as long as he possibly could, but eventually he had to shoot for the surface, strong arms climbing up the water column, shoulders aching and lungs straining. Busting into the air, Virgil gulped in enough oxygen to stabilise his system, the chill of the surface breeze goosepimpling his arms.

He dipped and rose with the slight swell for a moment, bare legs kicking, the bright sunlight driving him to squint. There was water in his ears.

A few strong breaths and he dove once more. He was naked with the exception of his tight swim trunks, IR emblazoned on his hip, and he could feel it as he dove deeper, the cold of the ocean seeping into his bones.

He returned to Gordon, floating in the flickering turquoise sunlight. His brother lay drifting, all ten tentacles lax, his chromatophores flickering in the remains of distress, ink still drifting lazily in the distance.

Virgil reached out and gently touched his soft mantle. Under his fingers his brother’s skin activated, colour and pattern dancing in reaction to their connection. Cells flashed deep contrasts, spots merging to plains of saturation only to retreat to match the shape of Virgil’s hand.

As his hand moved, his print was left behind.

Gordon’s fine stabilising fins rippled in the sequence to move him just slightly, bringing his great eye to gaze upon the second Thunderbird. The glassy iris flickered with familiar amber.

Virgil hung there as long as he possibly could, but eventually he, again, had to climb to the surface leaving his brother behind.

Another desperate gasp of oxygen, his hair in his eyes.

The sun glared at him and he dove again.

And would keep doing so as long as he had to.

-o-o-o-

The first time I actually picked up a bunch of characters and completely removed them from their universe and slapped them in another was as recent as last month with The Prince Who Would Not Be King.

The great silver form of Eos sat on his arm preening her feathers. Every so often, the hawk would pause and survey the room, just like her bearer, her startling red eyes catching everything. Sal would never understand that relationship, but it had saved her family more than once and she was grateful, if still wary.

I do have a single scene floating around in the back of my brain where Virgil is working in a garage as a mechanic and he has lost his memory. Just that single scene (but that’s how some of my biggest fics have evolved, though this one would require a lot of work on a trope that has been pretty well used in fandom before…though it could be fun anyway).

So, uh, the short answer to that question is…my characters aren’t as weird as they could be?

Umm, yeah, so I obviously forget most things ::headdesk::

Thank you for asking ::hugs you lots:: Apologies for the rambling.

[ergomaria]

The Past is Gone (but something might be found) Preview pt. II

(I’m posting a little more of this because it still delights me. Ironically, the whole thing is almost written (it’s short), but I can’t post it until I finish Miles to Go. Note that there are some really minor spoilers for that story, including Vann’s real first name.)

PLOT: Vann, Meetra, and Carth touch the wrong thing at the wrong shrine and are turned into themselves at 18. Alek finds himself paying his penance to the Force when he has to simultaneously watch over the trio while trying to figure out how to restore them to their proper ages.

Snorting in disbelief, Onasi shook his head. “There is no way that you can take a few random words and symbols and piece together enough of a dead language to translate this.”

“Actually, he can. I’ve seen him do a lot more with a lot less.” Meetra jerked her chin up defiantly.

Like talk the Council into granting permission for Jedi to become soldiers. Like defeat Mandalore the Ultimate with nothing but a pair of lightsabers. Like convince a good-hearted Consular to use a superweapon. The only thing more dangerous than Deran’s unshakable determination was Meetra’s unshakable belief in his vision for the galaxy. That combination was deadly for the Mandalorians during the war… and for the Republic.

“How? Because he’s just that perfect?”

“No!” The ‘p’ word had been uttered, which meant things could only go downhill. “Language and syntax are usually easy for me because they’re like a puzzle. Patterns and sounds, rhythms, tones… decoding them is fun.”

“You are weird.”

“What? Working puzzles and solving problems is also what makes me so good at battle strategy. It helps me to see beyond what’s logical and push the edge of what’s possible. It’s how I can defeat opponents twice my size in spars or duel two combatants at once. What can you do, nerf-brain?”

“Seriously? You can take on two opponents at once? And win?” The incredulity was hysterical considering that adult Onasi was mildly terrified of his partner.

“Yes, I can.” Shifting into a ready stance, Deran cocked his head to the side. “Do you want a demonstration?”

Onasi was about five seconds from getting his ass kicked by a kid who was 8 centimeters and 13 kilos smaller than him, and Alek was going to let it happen because his own hubris would appreciate the spectacle. He wasn’t a good person, he already knew that, and witnessing this moment was entirely about soothing his own jealousy. But Meetra was staring at him with her big blue eyes, her expression clearly stating, ‘Someone’s going to get hurt if you don’t do something!’ It was the same look that she gave the Revanchists’ leaders for the first year of the war until she finally learned that pain and death were ‘acceptable sacrifices’ provided their side was winning.

“Stop antagonizing someone who’s spent the last six years learning to kill with his bare hands and his mind. It will not end well for you, and I’m not highly inclined to help you out of your apparent death wish.” Just because Alek was doing the right thing didn’t mean he had to be nice about it.

“Jedi don’t rely on size or strength, at least not completely. We can augment our physical capabilities through the Force when we need to but...” Hooking her foot around Onasi’s ankle, Meetra gave a slight tug that set him off-balance. As the cadet stumbled, the little Consular spun around his back and rammed her knee into his opposite hip before driving her heel into the back of his calf. As Onasi lost his footing completely, a light push to his chest sent him down like a bag of duracrete. Meetra just grinned. “We ultimately rely on speed, maneuverability, and the wisdom to turn our opponents’ movement against them.”

That little display seemed to quell the worst of the prodigy’s temper and he snorted at the sight. “She’s had the least combat training out of any of us.”

“Deran’s always at the top of his class at combat skills, and Guardians receive more combat training that the rest of us combined.” Smiling sweetly at Onasi, Meetra extended a hand to help him to his feet. “You should be more careful about who you pick a fight with.”

Accepting the assistance, the cadet stared at the blonde with an expression that was equal parts impressed and aroused. Honestly, that explained a lot about his attraction to Vann. Despite the fact that most of his open hostility had faded, a lingering hint of annoyance continued to pulse around him. “So, you’re seriously a linguist, a strategist, and a combat expert? And all of that just comes naturally to you?”

Meetra’s indignant response of, “Well yes! He’s a prodigy!” was immediately drowned out.

“Hells no!” The frustration that filled Deran’s voice was the same forbidden passion that he would later turn on the Masters when he demanded the right to go to war. “I work from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep to be so good at what I do. Yes, some things come easier to me, but none of it is actually easy. I train one-on-one with the Order’s Battle Master and I take most of my Force classes with Consulars like Meetra who specialize in its use. I even carry out independent studies. And sure, sometimes I’m tired or sore. But it’s all worth it because pushing myself is what enables me to be the best.”

Panic attacks, insomnia, migraines... Alek mentally added. Can’t forget those.

“Alright, I understand wanting to be good at what you do. But, isn’t that a little… much?”

“I have the potential to become one of the best Jedi the Order has ever seen, and with that type of power I can help so many people. I can defend whole planets from scum who think that they can pick on anyone weaker just for fun. I can protect people like Squint… He’s my best friend who lost everything to a Mandalorian raid. When he immigrated to Coruscant as a refugee he learned that he was Force-sensitive and was sent to the Temple. But sometimes I think he’d rather be home with his parents. Except that’s not possible since his home and family are gone because the Mandalorians decided to target a defenseless colony. I never want to see that happen to anyone else, and if I get strong enough I can make sure that it doesn’t.”

“Shit.” Truthfully, Alek never knew this. He never knew he was the catalyst for some of Deran’s worst habits or the inspiration for what would become the Revanchists. This was new information and it somehow hurt more than anything else he’d experienced today.

“Are you okay?” Concern, bright and warm, flowed around Meetra. “You feel upset.”

Alek was upset. “I’m fine. That was just… very intense for someone so young, and there is no emotion. Keep that in mind.” He was a terrible Jedi. How these kids didn’t see straight through him in the first five minutes was a miracle of the Force.

Unfortunately, Onasi just looked amused. “Well, maybe you should start with that explanation and not act like such a little…”

The insult hadn’t even left the cadet’s lips and Deran was already poised to pounce.

Putting both boys in a stasis field was probably not the most Knightly solution to the problem, but Alek was emotionally drained, hungry, thirsty, tired, and absolutely finished trying to process this situation. Meetra nodded to him approvingly, as though he was doing this for anything remotely altruistic.

“Both of you stop it! You’re practically adults, so start acting like it! You are allowed to misunderstand each other. You are allowed to disagree. You are allowed to not like each other.” That last part might not have been accurate, but Alek was anything but a relationship counselor. “But be civil. Stop the name calling. Be kriffing respectful you karking assholes!”

[balioc]

Sexbots, Plato, and Jung

Apparently today is the day for sexbot discourse.  Joy of joys.

So...why does anyone want a sexbot?  What’s the value-add in this proposition?

There’s obviously a wide spectrum of possibilities here, but I think we can usefully divide them into three conceptual buckets. 

On the one end, there’s the pure straightforward object-oriented desire for a better sex toy with cooler features.  “Give me a vibrator/fleshlight, but, like, mobile, with arms and legs and a face and stuff, because that’ll make the orgasms better somehow.”  

To the extent that anyone is thinking this, I have zero trouble saying that there’s absolutely no objection to it at all that carries any water.  Go and get the best tool for the task.  Have fun. 

...on the other hand, an honest assessment will compel us to admit that basically no one will be thinking this.  Sex is mostly mental and emotional for pretty much everyone, the things we want out of it are mostly about complicated deep-laid psychological stuff -- and to the extent that it really is just about pushing physical pleasure-buttons, existing technology has that covered just fine.  This is kind of a strawman, and I’m mentioning it only for the sake of thoroughness. 

All the way on the other end, you get a number of variations on “I want a sexbot so that I can fool myself into believing that it’s a person with whom I can have a relationship.” 

(A few of those variations entail “...so that I can fool myself into believing that it’s a person with whom I can have a cruel/abusive relationship, one that for moral or practical reasons I can’t get with a real person.”  But only a few.  I’m not going to discuss them separately; I think we’ve had quite enough of that particular sub-discourse.)

Some people actually will think this; some already do.  In particular, if your conscious mind has become so soured on relationships (or so soured on the-opposite-sex-as-a-whole) that you believe them to be worthwhile only for the sake of fulfilling extremely simplistic psychological needs, you might be inclined to think that a non-sapient robot with a good user interface -- something like a current-tech video game NPC with a meatspace body, let’s say -- could fill the role of a human partner without much being lost. 

This is not a correct or healthy thing to think, and anyone whose mind is on this track is going to be painfully disappointed by the reality of having a sexbot. 

This is true for a lot of super-obvious reasons that boil down to “people are intellectually and emotionally generative, the value of being close to them mostly involves getting to interact with their complicated thoughts and feelings, the sexbots we’re talking about will not give you any of that.”  It’s also true for some slightly-less-obvious reasons.  A lot of what people want out of relationships, a lot of the thing whose absence actually drives lonely people to madness and despair, is social validation -- the validation of having someone (especially someone with a high social value) think that you’re worth caring about, the validation of everyone around you thinking that you’re cool or mature or successful or whatever -- and none of that can be faked, even if right now you feel like you’d be totally happy to settle for the external trappings. 

For whatever it’s worth, I also do agree with @jadagul that fooling yourself in this way is Unvirtuous, independent of any utilitarian fallout of any kind. 

So I’m happy to say that using a sexbot, for this particular kind of reason, is probably bad for you and you probably shouldn’t do it.  That in itself is not a good enough reason to make policy, we allow all sorts of bad things into society because trying to enforce a ban would be much worse, but it’s a judgment. 

But everything I’ve said thus far is kind of pointless, because the vast majority of the world’s desire-for-sexbots would in fact fall into the third bucket, which sits in between the other two. 

OK, our first Weird Philosophical Analogy: Plato’s tripartite soul.  You’ve got your semi-physiological animal appetite soul, you’ve got your seething subconscious emotional psychological soul, and you’ve got your conscious intellectual soul that contains your actual personality and goals and ideas.  In your “average” “normal” person, all three of them are united in strongly wanting sex.  But that desire means totally different things to each of them. 

The appetite soul can be satisfied with a vibrator or fleshlight.  The intellectual soul definitely needs another real person, someone who can constantly feed you you new thoughts and cause you to grow, someone who can be a part of your life and contribute things, no substitutes accepted. 

[I think that, in modern parlance, a person whose appetite soul doesn’t have that kind of need is called “asexual,” and a person whose intellectual soul doesn’t have that kind of need is called “aromantic.”  But maybe that mapping doesn’t work?  Discuss.]

The “emotional soul” -- which is a terrible name for it, but there isn’t a better one in modern language, which has lost the semantic distinction between nefesh/psyche/soul and ruach/pneuma/spirit, thanks, Church Doctors -- is roughly akin to the subconscious mind of the Old Psychologists, although you certainly can be aware of its workings under many circumstances.  It’s the part of you that cares about feelings and social cues in an unreflective way, much as the appetite soul cares about sugar and temperature and orgasms.  It’s the part of you that cringes when you feel shame, without any consideration of whether that shame is endorsed or desirable or appropriate.  It’s the part of you that crows like a rooster when some stranger likes your post on social media. 

The emotional soul cares almost exclusively about social, cultural, and emotional things, but...it doesn’t actually care about people, not in any sense that a thinking intelligence would find meaningful.  It doesn’t understand their existence as beings with interiority; that requires abstract thinking, which is not a thing of which it’s capable.  It doesn’t care about who they are or what they want.  It cares only about what they do, in a very direct and concrete kind of way, because human actions line up with the happy-patterns and sad-patterns that it does understand.

The emotional soul has a lot of use for a sexbot. 

An easy and not-very-loaded example: when you are despairing and full of doubts, it can be very comforting to have a beautiful-person-shaped-entity giving you the basic reassurances that you would otherwise have to give yourself.  Today, in our sexbot-free world, this usually translates to “it’s nice to have a loved one comfort you in such a way” -- but in fact your loved one’s existence as an independent thinking entity isn’t providing very much value-add in this particular scenario.  You already know the words in question, it’s not like you need someone else to generate them.  And, let’s be honest, your loved one is going to say those things pretty much no matter what he’s actually thinking in the moment, it may be so much a ritual courtesy that his not saying the words would be a hurtful surprise.  And yet it helps, perhaps quite a lot, because there’s a sub-rational part of you that doesn’t have declarative beliefs but knows that it likes seeing someone pretty say the nice words. 

A much-more-loaded example: many sexual fetishes.  No beliefs of any kind involved, no caring about anyone’s interiority, just some part of your mind that likes seeing someone pretty do the thing.  It’s a happy-button; maybe it has its origins in some interpersonal emotional complication, but at some point your psyche contains an independent module that’s just “button push ==> happy.”  And a sexbot can be pretty, and do the thing, just as well as a person with hopes and dreams. 

(I am pretty confident that, in a world with actual sexbots worthy of the name, a big slice of the sexbot-buying population is going to consist of couples interested in doing Group Sex Acts without any of the complications attendant on involving actual other people.) 

So OK.  Evaluation time.  What happens if this actually takes off?

A bunch of people get their emotional-soul needs met without having to rely on other human beings to do it for them.

This is potentially a very good thing. 

You can say “it will allow a bunch of lonely people who can’t find partners to satisfy more of their needs than they could otherwise,” which is true, but in fact it’s the least of it.  It could change the fundamental dynamic of human romantic relationships for those people who are capable of finding them.  It could allow them to be less driven by raw psychological need.

We’ve never actually relied on our partners for our appetite-soul needs; if you’ve got hands, you can probably find your way to an orgasm.  But we rely on our partners, extensively, for our emotional-soul needs.  We demand that they do the thing, whatever the thing is, because we need a person-shaped entity to fulfill that function or we get anxious and depressed.  We need them to play their assigned roles in our sex rituals and our comfort rituals and so on. 

If we have convincing person-shaped-entities without interiority that will just do whatever we want, then we can slot them into our rituals.  And maybe we can have a little more respect for each other as independent people, and approach each other in more of a spirit of exploratory appreciative wonder, and mutilate each other a little less in the name of creating the supportive partners we need.

A sentence you won’t hear very often these days, for good reason: I think it is helpful to think about this concept through a Jungian framework.

As Jung would have it, one of the important parts of your mind/soul/whatever is your anima if you’re a “normal” straight man, or animus if you’re a “normal” straight woman.  (There have been lots of arguments over how this works if you’re not doing the standard binary heterosexual thing, I’m not getting into it now, just...roll with it.)  The anima/animus is a sort of internal princess/prince figure, the living Grail at the end of the sacred self-development quest, containing within itself all the aspects of you that seem foreign and impossible-to-understand and not-quite-part-of-yourself.  The muse who brings inspiration, the voice of solace and comfort in the depths of depression, etc.  It’s represented as an idealized lover because it is all the things for which you reach out to the world in an attempt to feel complete.  But it’s all there inside. 

Achieving union with your anima/animus, in the Jungian scheme, is a key step of becoming a whole and happy person.  Without that internal union, you try to force other human beings into the role; it never works, and it does lots of damage to both parties in the process. 

I don’t know whether projecting aspects of your anima or animus onto a sexbot is a good way of coming to terms with it “properly.”  But I’m damn sure that I’d rather you do that, and seek out your private hieros gamos in a psychological mirror made from silicone, than dragoon an actual person into the job of making you complete. 

A lot of bad relationships -- and a lot of bad parts of good relationships -- are that second thing.  People feel so much desperate need for one another, because they feel so broken.  But love works a lot better when you go into it whole. 

[musicoccurred]

Album Deep Dive: Binaural

Here at Music Occurred our goal is to give you a diverse selection of music-related content to keep you discovering new bands, revisiting bands (and records) you used to love and most of all, get you off your keister and go to a show. Today we're launching a new series: Album Deep Dives. We pick one of our favorite records (it does not have to be a new or megaselling album) and go through both the production of it and the record itself with a fine-toothed comb. Hopefully it will make you dig it out of the crate (or visit your local independent record store) and listen to it with fresh ears.

I've been on a Pearl Jam kick lately, yes that's funny to some of you... I don't actually listen to them all that much, mainly around concert time and new releases. I have a couple shows coming up and I've discovered a podcast dedicated to the band so I am particularly inspired. I consider myself a superfan but there are others that have more time and money to have seen the band literally hundreds of times. In a way I'm envious but truthfully I like witnessing a variety of music to help enhance my palate. Not that I feel you have to be a superfan to do an Album Deep Dive, but my Pearl Jam pedigree is pure. Two tattoos, tens of thousands of miles driven (soon to be more) hundreds of gallons of truck-stop coffee, dozens of shows and countless hours listening to each and every record they release. You can tell a true Pearl Jam fan by asking them what they think of a new track. Their answer will invariably contain "I need to hear it live first" before they render final judgement.

Aided by the passage of time I look back at Pearl Jam's studio discography and notice a distinct pattern: their albums seem to group up as the band evolves. For example, Ten, Vs. and Vitalogy all have a conquer-the-world, angsty sound with Vitalogy giving us a hint of what's to come. Withering from the bright lights and looking to shrink their footprint a bit, the next three albums, No Code, Yield and Binaural, show a band at war with itself, TicketMaster and fame in general. These three are my favorites, mature song-writing and a band with nothing left to prove only trying to figure out how to keep it all going. There seems to be a drastic change at this point. It's like they went from rock stars to graybearded sages. In other words, they grew up. Riot Act, Pearl Jam (aka Avocado,) Back Spacer, and lastly Lightning Bolt all seem to be straight forward rock records. I took artistic liberty with my groupings, I could totally see a Ten, Vs group with a Vitalogy, No Code and Yield group with Binaural and Riot Act together but hey, it's my site.

That brings us to the album I've chosen to examine, Binaural. It's my favorite Pearl Jam record and I dare say it's at or near the top of most Pearl Jam nerds list. To me it's the birth of the modern era of the band. What we know about Pearl Jam today, starts here. Personally, the album’s release coincided with a major life change for me and the first tour of the band where I saw multiple shows in a short time. Fittingly this was Pearl Jam's first album to not go platinum. It debuted at #2 on the chart and moved a quarter-million units the first week then nose-dived. In the following 18 years (that's right Binaural can now vote) I'm fairly certain it has gone platinum at the global level. Binaural also marks the first album since Ten to not be produced by Brendan O'Brien, although O'Brien did mix a few tracks - more on that later.

Pearl Jam staggered into the studio mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. They toured relentlessly for Yield and felt they were at a creative crossroads and needed a change, exit Brendan O'Brien and enter Tchad Blake. Known for his binaural recording techniques (hence the name) he provided the band exactly what they were looking for. Recorded at Stone Gossard's Studio Litho in Seattle from September of 1999 to January of 2000 the stories from the sessions are legendary. Amps at full volume in a room with just the door cracked and the mics down the hall. Amps in trash cans and creative microphone placements are just a few. During final mixing the band found that the slower numbers were perfect for Blake's style but the faster tracks needed the touch of O'Brien. The resulting product is certainly different than any of their records before or after with a sound of its own. While it utilized the binaural recording technique it sounds fabulous on standard hifi gear. I frequently listen to it with my good headphones for the full effect.

Ask anyone their thoughts on Binaural and inevitably the word "dark" will be used. The band was facing inner turmoil as Eddie Vedder struggled with writer's block, Mike McCready dealt with addiction issues, Matt Cameron was new to the band and control of the band had permanently shifted from Stone to Ed. During the tour for Binaural there was a terrible accident at the band's performance at the Roskilde festival where 9 concert goers died. It nearly broke the band up. What's interesting to me is that Binaural sounds as if this incident occurred prior to the recording and the somber tones were a result of it. Earlier I mentioned that "what we know about Pearl Jam today, starts here," what I meant is Pearl Jam present themselves as a unified team, clearly Eddie's team, but a team of equals otherwise. At a Pearl Jam show Eddie will frequently tell a snippet of a story about the birth of a song or who wrote the music to this one. Often it will be someone else in the band. This didn't happen in the earlier albums. Ten, Vs, Vitalogy and No Code the lyrics were almost exclusively written by Ed. Beginning with Yield we started seeing more input, lyrically, from the other members. By the time they entered the studio for Binaural this new way of doing things was in full force. From this point forward their albums are very modular. With each member bringing in already constructed components and assembling them together. It may be a riff or a few lines, or it could be an entirely complete song just needing a solo from Mike or phrasing from Ed. Timing for this change was perfect. The band was nearing a decade together, they had added veteran musician/song writer Matt and Ed was mired in a horrific case of writer's block.

Track by track

Binaural opens with “Breakerfall” a punk inspired run through Eddie’s metaphorical lyrics in a tight 2:19. Side note: Pearl Jam are incredibly thoughtful about their records. They control every aspect of production, track sequencing and packaging. This album is no different, the tracks fit together perfectly. Next up is “God’s Dice” that begins with a rapid fire Matt Cameron drum roll and jams along with a rapid pace that belies the quieter songs later. “Evacuation” has an odd timing signature (hello Matt Cameron!) will strike you as a new sound from Pearl Jam but if you listen to later records you’ll find that some of their new sounds originated with this track. “Evacuation” also serves as a transition into the slower songs on the record. “Light Years” is where the album really begins to shine, music by Mike McCready, it has the classic Eddie story arc. You feel like you’re on a journey with the protagonist, anecdotally, it’s about a friend of the band, Diane Muus from Sony Music who had passed away a couple years prior. “Nothing As It Seems” showcases the binaural recording. Jeff Ament’s bass sounds like it’s behind and below you and Mike’s guitar is sitting on my right shoulder. This slow burn of a song really comes to life at concerts. “Thin Air” is a light acoustic style track reminiscent of college radio classics being played around a beach camp fire. Soulful lyrics, lush background harmonies make you reach for your own guitar. “Insignificance” is likely my favorite of the higher tempo songs. A meditation on war, it features a style of music that’s unique to Pearl Jam, they vary tempos like no other band I’ve seen, slow burn to full on rock all inside of a single song. Next up is “Of The Girl,” if you’ve never been to a Pearl Jam show, they typically open up with a quiet song with the lights down low, then launch into a rocker. Of all of them, my favorite is “Of The Girl” the clean riff with Mike’s lead lightly picking over the top. Eddie’s soft singing really settle you into a groove. I’ll post a video of it as an opener below. 

Shifting gears back into the noisier stuff, “Grievance” is inspired by the protests at the WTO summit in Seattle. It features that signature start-stop rhythm that showcases what Matt brings to the band. Beginning with Vitalogy Pearl Jam can get weird on you from time to time. “Rival” is probably the strangest song on this record. It begins with what sounds to be a pig eating an apple. The music is pretty standard Stone Gossard riffs but with the vocals layered on top.”Sleight of Hand” begins just with a single lead guitar and drums with Ed singing over the top. When the bridge hits the full band joins in only to abruptly go back to the single guitar and drums. It’s a very hard song to describe but sounds great. “Soon Forget” is a short ukulele song that doesn’t seem to fit the album (more on that later) fortunately for us it foreshadows a full album released by Ed a few years later. The album closes with “Parting Ways” an epic closer with a sitar sounding guitar and big tom tom rhythms. 

Member by member

Ed had the music for what would become "Grievance" and "Insignificance" two songs that shine in concert by the way. But he had no lyrics and had even given up the guitar. Thankfully he discovered the ukulele and began plucking away at it. This would explain why "Soon Forget" is included on this record despite not really fitting and displacing several other great tracks. It marks his conquering the demon that is writer's block. This, coupled with releasing the somewhat strange "Nothing As It Seems" as the lead single dismisses any notion that this is anyone else's band. In typical enigmatic Ed fashion, the album ends with a hidden track called "writer's block" that is just the sound of Ed pounding away on a typewriter for a couple minutes.

Aside from the music on “Light Years, ”Mike McCready did not write any of the songs on Binaural but he "McCreadys it up" on most of them. Mike is quite possibly one of the most under-rated guitarists of his generation he can absolutely shred but more so he has an instantly identifiable tone. On "Nothing As It Seems" his feedback laced guitar solos are so brilliant that I've personally witnessed the crowd chanting "Mike" so forcefully that Ed had to stop the show so Mike could take a bow. His battle with Crohn's Disease and subsequently prescription medicines certainly took their toll on him. Thankfully he overcame it and is healthy.

Stone Gossard, so aloof in concert but seemingly an engaging person in conversation is really the mastermind behind Pearl Jam. In the beginning it was his band, he wrote most of the music and knew what he wanted it to look and sound like. As mentioned previously, that leadership role shifted over to Eddie Vedder. It's not certain exactly when that happened but my opinion is around the Vitalogy/No Code era. For Binaural, Stone wrote the lyrics and music for "Thin Air," "Of The Girl" and "Rival." He also co-wrote the music for "Light Years."

Jeff Ament is widely known as Ed's best friend in the band. His songs are usually some of the strangest with eclectic phrasing and timing. He wrote "God's Dice," "Nothing As It Seems," and the music for "Sleight of Hand." Jeff is also a very talented visual artist and plays a hand in the album cover/packaging of the records.

That leaves us with Matt Cameron. Now many people have strong opinions on who is the best Pearl Jam drummer but my vote goes to Matt. He has the pedigree of his time with Soundgarden but more importantly his steady hand gave the band a stability they didn't seem to have before, an energy even. Pearl Jam went through several drummers in their first 7 years but Matt has been behind the kit for them for 20 years now. That is no coincidence. He wrote the music for "Evacuation" on this record. One bone to pick, most casual fans will say Dave Abbruzzese is their favorite Pearl Jam drummer. While Dave is certainly a very talented drummer, he was simply the first drummer most people saw in the videos from Ten, they likely don't realize he wasn't the drummer they were hearing on the record. For what it’s worth, his work on Vs and Vitalogy were stellar, the dude can drum.

For all that's included in Binaural, what's left out is just as important. As I've alluded to before, Pearl Jam is a fan's band. Their shows are legendary and each setlist is mostly unique and contains tracks selected just for that venue, crowd and city etc. Ed is effectively Bruce Springsteen Jr so the shows started getting longer and longer, break out the B Sides! Pearl Jam deep cuts are mainstays of the concerts and Binaural has several. "Sad," "Education," and "Fatal" have all become fan favorites.

If you’ve never listened to this record all the way through or if it’s just been a while. Pick it up and drop the needle.

-JS

[hopefulminty]

So, this post exists due to the perfect storm of insomnia, randomly realizing that I had posted on here 99 times (and should therefore do something different for the 100th post), and several of the topics covered below coming up in real life.

In other words, here is an author interview with myself.

Yes, that’s right. I’m actually asking myself a bunch of questions, answering them/TMI-ing all over the place, and posting the results on here.

Insomnia really does make me do weird things... 

Why are you called hopefulminty?

 My username comes from two usernames that I’ve used in the past. The hopeful part’s been around since I was in middle school. Two of my friends and I decided to dress up as hippies for Halloween one year. We called ourselves Faith, Charity, and Hope. I started using variations of the word ‘hope’ for various sites after that. The minty part started when I was in high school. I wasn’t feeling the name ‘hope’ one day, so I looked around the room until my eyes landed on a pack of gum. I said the word ‘minty’ out loud and the rest is history. I will answer online to Hope, Minty, or now Hopefulminty. Any of those are fine.

Who are you?

I don’t like to give out specifics about myself that I feel could be used to identify me. That’s one of the things that was drilled into my head when I was young and actually stuck, so I don’t use my real name online, give my location, etc, etc. (Though I do share stories online that are kind of unique, but I don’t think they could be used to identify me unless you happen to live in this area/know people I know.)

Basically, I’m female, American (east coast, that’s as specific as I’m going to be), somewhere on the ace/demi spectrum, and old enough that I think I’m pretty much a senior citizen in the DEH fandom.

Old enough that when I saw Alex Boniello’s tweet about having shirts that are older than Andrew Feldman, I very quickly thought about my wardrobe, did the math, and laughed because I have at least two t-shirts that I’ve had since I was in elementary school that actually are older than the child who is going to be playing Evan next.

Does that weird you out?

A little bit, but not really. It would if I actually pictured any of the actors while I’m writing. When I do visualize the characters, I picture the versions that solely exist in my head now and don’t particularly resemble anyone who has played the parts.

I will say that I hope for his sake that he’s more emotionally/mentally mature than I was at sixteen. I know there’s no way I could’ve handled being the lead in a popular Broadway show, even if I’d had the talent to pull it off.

Actually, I don’t think I could handle that now. I’d hate the attention and would probably crumble under the pressure.

Is it weird being an older fan?

Again, kind of, but not really. I’ve been in and out of different fandoms since I was old enough to know that they existed. (Eleven, I think?) There’ve been times when I’ve been really active, times when I’ve been a lurker, times when I’ve been on the outskirts and only occasionally popped into something. (Kind of like I am now with DEH, I think.)

I was pretty active in various Harry Potter RPGs when I was in high school. There were players of all different ages in those. The youngest ones were teens, like myself. The oldest players were in their 60s. I thought that was kind of awesome at the time and actually still do.

Should younger fans be wary of older fans?

This is one of the topics that have come up in my real life recently. My sister-in-law found out that my nephew’s on some kind of gaming board and has online friends who are significantly older than him.

I told her that from my experience I’d say it’s not someone’s age you have to be worried about, not if that’s literally the only thing making you pause. It’s not that people hit a certain age and automatically turn into creepers who should be pushed out of fandoms and not allowed to interact with younger fans at all.

Growing up, all my real life friends were super into various fandoms. We were always dragging each other to things and driving each other crazy by going on about our latest obsessions.

A lot of them have given up that part of their lives now. In some cases, they’ve moved on because they’ve had to, because things like work and school and ensuring that their basic needs are met are more important than writing fan fic and venting about annoying plot holes. In other cases, they’ve stopped because they feel like they should stop, because they feel like they’re too old for things they now see as childish.

Do they have a point? Possibly. I don’t really care enough to worry about that though.

I’d say as a general recommendation to fans of all ages, just be smart and safe and trust your instincts. Avoid people and situations that make you uncomfortable and report ones you think might be dangerous.

How long have you been writing?

Pretty much since I learned how to write. I’ve always liked making up stories. My dad loves to tell the story of how he realized that I have a vivid imagination. He says I was about three or four years old and had spent the entire day scouring the house for toys. I’m the Surprise Kid in my family (meaning that my siblings are all older and were totally out of the house by the time I was five), so there were a lot of random toys around when I was growing up.

After hearing me drag things down to the basement all day, my dad finally decided he should go see what I was up to. He went down there and (according to him) there were hundreds of dolls, stuffed animals, and action figures all over the place, arranged in what he could instantly tell was some kind of complicated pattern. He asked me what I was doing and I then proceeded to spend the next ninety minutes (again, according to him, so probably an exaggeration) telling him all about the crazy complicated world I’d created where each toy had a name, a family, and multiple friends/rivals.

When my mom got home that night, he told her they had to be careful because they were raising a creative child.

How long have you been writing fan fic?

Since middle school. The first fic I can remember writing was for the show JAG (another side effect of being the Surprise Kid, you spend a lot of time watching tv with your parents). It was terrible and I didn’t post it anywhere. (It was actually purposely terrible because I was annoyed about having to watch that show all the time.)

The first fics that I posted were about Harry Potter. I also posted a couple Buffy stories when I was in high school.

I haven’t posted a lot of stories because I have a really bad habit of abandoning things that I’m working on. So, I only post something if it’s done or I’m reasonably certain that I’m going to see it through until the end.

Where can your old stories be found?

Nowhere.

Nowhere online, that is. They’re possibly still on my old computer that’s now in my parents’ basement.

I took down everything I’d posted when I was a teenager years ago. I reached a point where I hated knowing that the stories were out there and made them disappear.

Though, actually, there may be an X-Files story out there somewhere that I co-wrote with my best friend when we were fourteen.

But probably not because I think she did a similar purge when we finished high school.

Which Hogwarts House are you in?

I’m a Huffleclaw/Ravenpuff. At eleven, I would’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw. Nowadays, I feel like I’m a combination of the two.

Which Harry Potter do you relate to the most?

Luna. Definitely Luna. Though, my best friend says I’m a really weird combination of Luna and Hermione.

How did you realize you’re asexual?

This is another topic that came up in real life recently because my friend’s cousin thinks she might be ace.

It’s also something I’ve talked about a lot because it’s pretty much the only high school story I have that I think could be a subplot in a YA movie/book. The character based on me would be the baby ace who was sort of mentored by the lead lesbian couple for a couple weeks.

I started feeling like I was different from my friends when I was in fourth grade. I didn’t get it at all when they started going on about having crushes and wanting boyfriends. Everyone told me that would change as I got older, but it never did.

By middle school, people started telling me that I must be gay since I didn’t have any interest in boys. Part of me could see their point, but I didn’t have any interest in girls either and, as far as I could tell, that was a pretty significant part of being gay.

In eighth grade, I went to the mall with two of my friends and we ended up sitting in the food court and people-watching. My one friend elbowed me, pointed to a boy our age, and asked if I thought he was cute. My response (which has become friend group legend, so this is exact) was, “Well, he doesn’t have any visible warts, so maybe?”

My other friend (who was proudly bisexual) then pointed to a girl sitting across from us and asked the same question. I stared at her for a minute before saying that I wondered what conditioner she used because her hair was so shiny.

My friends shook their heads at me and asked if that was really all I was thinking. They touched my arms and assured me they’d still love me if I was gay. 

Which was nice to hear and part of me wished that I thought I was gay because then I’d be something. The problem was that I really didn’t get how people developed crushes on other people. I didn’t get the idea of looking at someone and thinking they were attractive. I didn’t get the idea of wanting to be physical with another person. None of those things made sense to me at all.

The following year, I started going to a really conservative Christian high school. I mean, really conservative. Almost every teacher I had there mentioned at least once that we were doing God’s work when we voted for Republicans.

(In case you’re wondering, no, I wasn’t sent there as a form of punishment. The story of how I ended up there is really long/boring. Just know that my family doesn’t believe the majority of the things I was taught there.)

So, a few things about me:

1.      I’m a really socially/generally anxious, awkward, introverted person. I never shut up around my family and friends, but put me in a room of strangers and I freeze. This was especially true when I was a teenager. (I can almost appear to be “normal” now...)

2.      I’ve had the same basic friend group since elementary school, but none of them went to high school with me. So, I spent four years as an outsider. The tv episode I relate to the most is the episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory was called into the guidance counselor’s office because she liked to eat lunch by herself. That was me. Multiple times. Many, many times. They finally gave up when my mom told them that I had friends outside of school and that I come from a large, close-knit family (I have over 30 cousins, for starters) and I liked spending my lunches alone because they gave me a chance to recharge my internal battery.

3.      I’m pretty much the most non-confrontational person you’ll ever meet. I hate arguing with people and I hate being put on the spot, especially when I feel like I don’t have any allies. I’m so non-confrontational that I wouldn’t correct people when they mispronounced my name when I was a teenager. Which happened a lot because I have a pretty unique real name. I’m slightly better about that now. These days, I’ll correct someone once and then let it slide if they keep saying my name wrong. Unless I know they’re going to become a regular part of my life, then I go through the whole ‘let’s say it together’ thing until they get it right.

4.      I’m also the most “quietly stubborn” person you’ll ever meet. Pretty much everyone I know has called me that at least once. If I’m talking to someone about something that matters to me and I’m convinced I’m right, I will not back down no matter what. Which is the exact opposite of how I am 99% of the time. Usually, I’ll at the very least acknowledge that the other person has a point and try to change subjects. 

So, the point of all that is to show how it was a pretty big deal when I started speaking up in school about things I didn’t agree with. I spoke up when a teacher told the class that women were put on the earth to serve men. I spoke up when another teacher told us that Jewish people go to hell. And I spoke up when a teacher told us that it is impossible for gay people to go to heaven, but it is possible for serial killers to get in.

(The logic for that one being that gay people will never repent because they don’t think what they’re doing is wrong, but it’s possible for serial killers to eventually become remorseful and repent their sins.)

My fairly passionate, but extremely awkward, defense of gay people led my classmates to decide that I must be gay. Which soon meant that the entire school thought I must be gay.

This happened a few weeks before the end of my junior year. Up until that point, I’d managed to fly under the radar for the most part. People who were considered “different” really stood out at my school. Everyone knew who the seven Jewish kids were. Everyone knew which kids liked reading/watching fantasy books/movies because the teachers always cautioned them that things like Harry Potter could lead you astray. (I was in that group, but I was quiet about it. The worst thing that happened to me was that my Spanish teacher said she’d pray for me when she saw I was reading one of the Anita Blake books.)

And everyone knew the lesbian couple. Because there was only one. Because there were only two students in the entire school who were publicly out.

Even I knew who they were, which was semi-surprising because they were seniors and I spent most of my time outside class with my head down, my earbuds in, and my nose stuck in a book.

So, anyway, it didn’t take long for everyone to decide that I was our school’s third lesbian. People started coming up to me and saying they’d pray for me. The first time that happened, I blinked and, without thinking about it, told the girl I’d pray for her too. That seemed to annoy her, so that became my go-to response whenever someone approached me.

At the end of the day, a girl who was considered one of the school’s spiritual leaders asked me if I was sure I was gay because I seemed so nice. I started to say that I wasn’t, but stopped myself when the girl’s friend laughed and said that even I knew how shameful it was to be gay, that I’d just argued with the teacher because I wanted attention.

Which caused a dilemma for me. My sixteen-year-old, panicked, stressed out brain could only see two possible options. I could either pretend to be something that I was fairly certain I wasn’t or I could let those girls go around telling everyone that I, the great defender of gays, knew deep down that being gay was wrong.

So, I stammered that I hadn’t understood their question at first and that yeah, I really was gay.

I spent the next few days avoiding people as much as possible. I started waiting inside for my mom to pick me up at the end of the day instead of going outside with everyone else. On my third day of doing that, the lesbian couple approached me and asked if I knew who they were. I said I did and they said they’d heard I was having a rough week. 

They then asked me a series of questions. Some subtle, some direct. At the end of their interrogation, they exchanged a look and one of them said, “Oh, so you’re asexual then.”

Which is how I learned that asexuality is a thing. I went home and read up on it and was surprised to realize that there actually was a name for what I was. It was really exciting.

Sorry to disappoint, but the lesbians didn’t become my new best friends after that. They only had two more weeks of school at that point and we weren’t in any of the same classes. We didn’t even have the same lunch period. They always made it a point to say hi to me in the hall though and I think I’m still Facebook friends with them.

One day, about a week after they approached me, one of them came running up to me between classes to tell me that her girlfriend had done something stupid. 

Her girlfriend had told a guy who was being obnoxious that they had pulled me into their relationship and we were having all kinds of threesomes.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I think I turned a million shades of red and stuttered uncontrollably for a minute or two. I finally told her that I was okay with that. I said they could say whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t actually expect me to do any of the things they claimed I was doing.

That comment made her grin and say, “Spoken like a true asexual.”

Do you think asexual writers should be allowed to write about characters who aren’t asexual?

This is another question that came up recently. My least favorite brother-in-law loves to say he’s playing devil’s advocate before asking people really annoying/terrible questions. He asked me this one at Thanksgiving this year.

My response was simply that it’s stupid to try to tell people they can only write about characters like themselves. That doing that would make the entire fantasy genre go away and, hopefully, there wouldn’t be any novels about murderers.

Writers like to make up stories and develop characters and relationships. They try to put themselves in their character’s heads and express how they’re feeling.

For me, that sometimes means drawing from my own experiences, sometimes it means thinking about things I’ve seen/heard, and sometimes it means using my imagination to come up with a character’s reaction.

Am I successful at portraying romantic relationships? I really have no idea. I walked away when he asked me that because I’m the absolute worst judge of my own stories. I have a like/hate (never love/hate) relationship with everything I write. I’ll just say that I don’t think being on the ace spectrum should stop me from writing the stories I want to write.

How did you get into DEH?

Another side effect of being the Surprise Kid is that it gives your parents a lot of opportunities to teach you about their interests. My dad managed to get me into British tv shows and my mom successfully managed to pass her love of musicals onto me, though, for her, that love does not extend to DEH. She can’t stand the music from that show.

I got into it when I decided to watch clips from the Tonys on YouTube. I was blown away by ‘Waving Through a Window’ because that song seriously would’ve been my personal theme song if it had come out when I was in high school. So, naturally, I had to find out more about the show. 

I haven’t seen it live, but I have read the script and watched a bootleg. That got me into it enough that I started coming up with stories I wanted to write.

Which character do you relate to the most?

Evan, definitely. I was definitely the awkward, anxious kid in high school. I don’t think I would’ve ended up in the mess he did though...

Do you relate to any of your OCs?

Aunt Jamie is sort of like me, but I wouldn’t say she’s an author insert. I’m the youngest aunt in my family. (I don’t think any of my nieces/nephews think I’m particularly cool though.) I don’t like to be touched/hugged and usually pat people on the arm as a way of saying ‘hey I like you, you’re okay.’

The story about her suicide attempt in Sincerely, E is definitely not my story. I’m lucky enough to be able to say that I’ve never actually tried to kill myself.

Her story about being unpopular/having people make fun of her weight was sort of an exaggeration of mine. Again, I was lucky enough not to have it nearly as bad as she did.

What do you like about Evan/Connor?

I like putting them together because they’re both characters who desperately need someone who understands them. They’re alike in a lot of ways, but different in ways that make them fun to write. I like their relationship dynamic and the ways I make them interact.

Why do you keep writing Zoe/Jared?

I’ve come to see Zoe/Jared as my bastard ship. They’re the ship that I never plan to write, but somehow keep writing.

With Evan and Connor, I always think about how they’re going to get together this time, which tropes I plan to include, etc., etc.

With Zoe and Jared, I literally reach a point in the story where I blink at the screen and go ‘okay, so this is happening again...’

That said, I have come to like my bastard ship. They’re also fun to write.

Are they going to get together in BNK?

I don’t have any current plans to put them together. Which means probably.

Do you hate Zoe/Alana?

Not at all. I have no problem with the idea of them. I have no problem with giving Zoe a girlfriend or Jared a boyfriend. I also have no problem with letting characters stay single (which, to me, is a much more realistic portrayal of the high school experience).

Part of the problem with doing my weird blinders on, tunnel vision writing thing is that I haven’t really read other DEH stories. I didn’t realize Zoe/Alana was a thing until I started looking at summaries of other fics after I finished Sincerely, E.

I’ve briefly considered putting them together each time I start a new story, but now there’s the Tracy situation. And I do like Alana/Tracy. And somehow Zoe/Jared sneaks up on me every time.

So, you really don’t read other DEH stories?

I’ve tried to a couple times. I’ve even downloaded some of the completed ones to my Kindle in case I ever feel the need to read them when I’m out somewhere.

It just becomes a case of character overload for me if I try to read other people’s interpretations of the characters while I’m writing mine.

This particular writing quirk of mine actually used to cause problems for me with my RL friends when I wasn’t the only one writing fics. They’d get mad at me when I’d say I couldn’t read their stories because they were writing for the same fandom that I was writing for.

They’d also get mad when I’d say I hadn’t read their comments. The comment thing is another writing quirk of mine. I try to avoid them until I’m totally finished with a story or, at the very least, close enough to being finished that the thought of looking at the comments doesn’t weird me out.

I’m not always totally successful at that because I also have a weird thing about notifications. Meaning that I can’t stand them. So, if I see there’s a comment, I’ll literally hold my hand up to try to block the screen while I mark it as read. Which doesn’t always work as well as I’d like.

I did try once again to read the comments before starting BNK. I think I even said in the author’s note at the beginning of the story that I’d been binge-reading them. Which ended up meaning that I sort of clicked through my inbox and read about five random comments... Someday, I really will look at them all...

All of that doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate comments/kudos though. It’s always amazing to see that people are reading and reacting to the things I write. I do check the stats page to see if the numbers are going up. If it ever became clear to me that absolutely no one was reading my stories anymore, then I’d stop posting them because I’d feel really awkward and wonder what’s the point of posting something that no one’s even bothering to open.

Are you going to keep writing DEH stories when you finish BNK?

Maybe? I don’t know at this point. I’m not even sure how much longer BNK will be. Judging from the length of my other stories, I’m probably around the halfway point and that currently sounds about right, given what I have planned.

I’ll keep writing about these characters as long as I have ideas for them and am having fun writing the stories. If I run out of ideas or writing these fics stops being fun and starts being a source of stress in my life, then I’ll stop.

Do you have any writing suggestions? How do you deal with writer’s block?

The best writing advice I can give is just to write. Write and then keep writing and then don’t stop writing.

I’ve often described myself over the years as a writer who doesn’t write. And that’s been the case many times for me.

I’ve been writing a ton this past year because the DEH characters have stuck with me and I keep coming up with weird ideas for them. Before that though, I’d gone at least a year without writing much of anything.

I write because I like writing and because it’s a major stress/anxiety reliever for me. I write because it entertains me and gives me something to focus on when I can’t sleep, which is pretty much every night. I often say that I feel like I get more done between 12 AM and 2 AM than some people do all day.

That said, I definitely struggle with writer’s block sometimes. The only thing that ever helps me with that is to walk away. Literally. I close my laptop and walk away from it. I make myself do something else. And then I keep making myself do other things until I’m either ready for bed or a solution to the problem I was struggling with pops into my head.

Almost every story-related idea that I’ve had has occurred to me while I’m doing something totally unrelated to my writing. While I’m not even thinking about it.

It’s really fun when that happens at work. I’ve had times where I’m on the phone, using my cheery customer service voice and being yelled at, and have suddenly come up with what I want Connor to say in the conversation that I was struggling with the night before. At least, I haven’t blurted out any random bits of dialogue yet...

Last question, since no online survey would be complete without this – dogs or cats? 

Guinea pigs. Though, personality-wise, I really would be such a crazy cat lady if I weren’t horribly allergic to them.

[ineedahandinminetofeel]

An appointment indeed.

8/5/17

So, early start today. I hate early starts, picked the wrong job I guess? 2 hours ish on the train to arrive there at around about twenty past nine for an appointment at ten oclock. Getting there was pretty seamless really. My mum came with me and we kept each other company on the train. 

The first thing that happened when I got there was they brought me a form to ask about my ethnicity etc. apparently my GP hadn’t given them that. The person that I was seeing for the day came and got us both, my mum came in to the appointment with me. If he said his name I’d forgotten it within minutes, and if he said his job title I’d forgotten that too. My mum had too, which kind of leads me to believe he may not have introduced himself fully since we’re both generally good about remembering those kinds of things, but I’m not sure.

So we sat for an hour and a quarter and basically went through what I have decided to call My Ghosts of Dysphoria Past, Present, and Future. “When did I figure out I was trans?”, “How did I figure out?”, a lot of “How did that feel?”. If I present as female anywhere in real life (I don’t, I don’t have the privacy to do so, there’s literally always someone in the house due to my family’s shift patterns), what steps I’ve taken towards presenting female in real life (again very little because of the aforementioned lack of solid privacy.)

If I’m out to any friends (yes), and if they were okay with it (also yes <3), what they call me and how that makes me feel (if you’re reading this, supportive people, you are the best <3). If I’d taken any steps towards social transition (really no), like if I’ve told the rest of my family like my dad and brother (no and no), or if I’ve changed my name via deed poll (I’m looking for jobs at the moment, and I don’t really want to have to explain that at interview, so no). Other things too, I think? I’m writing this literally 12 hours removed cause I think I wanted some time to digest it.

I remember a lot of questions about being young as well, like how I acted before I learnt I was trans. How learning I was trans changed me, what I was like as a teenager. What I’ve been like since being trans. Mental, emotional, physical health, that kind of thing, which are all pretty much fine for me. 

Some things made me feel a little, I don’t know if uncomfortable is the word, but a little perplexed. I told him my hobbies, which are admittedly rather nerdy and somewhat male, like video games or roleplay games. He said it was common for trans people to have nerdy hobbies, but I still get the feeling he wanted me to be more of a girly girl than I am. 

Similarly to that point, I own no typically female clothes, so I went in nice “male” clothes (nice shirt and black skinny jeans) which he picked up on. Specifically saying something like “the clothes you’ve worn today, I imagine you got them from the men’s section?” To which I nodded? There’s not really a... genderless section? The point sort of was though, that I was dressing in a masculine fashion which I felt he disapproved of. Made it awkward when I looked at my mum who was wearing... a nice shirt and black skinny jeans. 

Not so much in the moment but a little later on I wonder what this man would make of my entirely female friend who doesn’t like make-up, or doing her hair, and is a powerlifter and a very dedicated, long time kickboxer (hi you, if you’re reading!). Would she pass the GICs gender stereotype litmus test or would my actually female friend be not enough of a woman? Similarly none of the women in my family really wear skirts besides a glamorous aunt and my young woman cousin, every other woman in the family wears trousers and aren’t really girly girls. Are any of the women in my family women enough for my GIC? 

He asked about dysphoria a lot too, and I don’t think I impressed him particularly. 40% of transgender people have attempted suicide, and it’s estimated up to 90% have suicidal ideation. I’m wonderfully lucky to have no experience with either. Dysphoria hits me, obviously, and it sucks, but just in general I’m a very laid back person, so it never really hits me so badly that I feel an overriding sense of suffering with it? 

I’m the kind of person that if I’m on a bus that’s going to be late, I don’t worry about it cause I can’t change it. That is to say, I try not to stress about things I have no control over, because that’s not productive. This extends to my body and my dysphoria, so I kind of make sure that it never hits me that hard by adopting that attitude. Obviously I’m trying to change it, but that requires hormones and a long drawn out process, feeling bad about myself in the mean time doesn’t accomplish anything and just dampens my life too. So I don’t have particularly bad dysphoria, but I’m also to be in a situation where I’ve selected and collected supportive friends, and in the last year and a bit I’ve gained some familial support as well. I’ve carefully topiary’d a lot of support around myself, so I never feel so bad about it.

So I feel like the fact that I’m not a dysphoric wreck maybe put him off? I have to admit, like, entirely, I’m not very good at this trans thing. I didn’t really have any trans friends for a long long time, I didn’t have a trans “mentor” when I was young and discovering myself. Were there even trans communities online in 2007? This was like, when MySpace was at it’s peak, I didn’t know how to find support from a community, I was happy enough to find a PHB bulletin board about Star Wars, nevermind plumbing the depths of my gender identity. 

My point is, a lot of my development as a trans person is really weird sounding and I think pretty unconventional. My girl name is a mash up of my real life names that started out as a nickname I had before I figured out I was trans, I figured out I was trans just through chatting to someone who was trans and then I was kinda left alone to figure it all out. I was so poorly informed about trans stuff that I thought you couldn’t even transition after 18, as if puberty was a literal off switch and my 18th birthday was some kind of point of no return. Sometimes I recount stories about myself and even I feel stupid, so I have no idea how he took me, since I did tell him all this as well. 

I’m waffling now, I think. He told me that there’d be 3 more appointments, one of which I think I can get done at home, but that means I’m going to have to make the (expensive) two hour journey to my GIC at least twice more. No bloods taken today, no hormones given, and he did tell me that I’m going to have a very very similar chat with a psychiatrist some time in the future. 

My overall impression is that I think he wasn’t too impressed with me. I felt like I wasn’t trans enough? I really really got the feeling that, as I mentioned in the previous post, that someone who’s never met me before is interviewing me on whether I get to be me or not and it just felt all a bit like a test? But like, a test where you don’t really know what answers they’re even looking for. I had a job interview recently and it literally felt like that, except even in a job interview you kinda know what’s expected of you. He was some kind of psychologist, since I mentioned I had a degree in psychology and he told me he had two. He was very, like very “therapist-y”, lots of “how did that make you feel”, lots of probing on weird and random things I’d never even thought of or thought important. I mean, I know I went there for an assessment but I didn’t think I’d feel so uncomfortable about it?

I guess I don’t really know how to feel, he said there’ll be an appointment in the post in the next six weeks, so here’s hoping. My overall impression is that there was a set of hoops and I did not jump high enough, or particularly high at all. Trans people are very popular at the moment, mainly as debate topics in the same way that any minority’s rights are debated by a poorly informed majority. You can see examples in America with the bathroom bill, or as trans people get more exposure the issue of trans athlete’s gets debated a lot, mostly by people who have never even seen a trans person before and it’s generally pretty horrific to read. I am, personally, just so tired of being a debate topic, I’m so tired of being a discussion piece, and this today didn’t really help much with it. I’m a person, not like, a thing to be codified, classified, and sorted, you know?

I know there’s no choice other than to have all these assessments and things, so I can’t complain about it cause I understand it, it’s still just tiring. It did feel like a job interview, it was alien, I didn’t really like it and I’m not really looking forwards to doing it again, even if it’s the doorway to who I want to be. I don’t like other people meddling in my affairs or suggesting how I act, I’m very private. If I don’t want to social transition, I shouldn’t have to social transition. If I don’t want to like typically female things I don’t feel like I should have to to impress a psychologist that lives (literally) a hundred miles away from me in a city I have no intention of ever even visiting for anything outside of trans stuff.

I’m stubborn, I don’t like being bossed around, but I guess now that my life is in the hands of these doctors and psych(ologists/iatrists) I am beholden to someone else’s rules, standards, ideas, preconceptions, misconceptions, and demands. Though now I know how my nan feels when she says the nurses in hospital are bossing her around and she hates it, even when we tell her that they’re not and if they are it’s for her own good.

All in all, it was an interesting day. A weird one. I’m tired, very tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But it’s the start of a process, so I guess I’m happy sort of kind of maybe ishy a little?

Oh, I guess end on a (sort of) funny (but not super funny when you think about it) note, my GP had told the GIC that I was 31. I’m 24. I don’t even know where my GP got 31 from. If it was 34 I’d understand because that’s 1982 compare to 1992, but 31? What are they even doing?! This is, also to say, that my GP didn’t send my referral the first time I attended and asked for it, and I had to phone back a while later to get them to actually send the referral in the first place, all those 14 months ago. I wonder if I hadn’t phoned up to check last year, would I even be writing this now? I’ll leave some of the other things that my GP has gotten wrong out about my health, because they’re not strictly trans things, but those in the know will see this as part of a rather shitty picture concerning my local doctors who have already made some rather catastrophic mistakes in my life.

Anyway, if you read this far I’ve got no idea what you must be doing with your life as there are plenty of far better things you should have done! Go hug a loved one or look at cute pictures of dogs online! Go on! Go do something useful. And thank you for reading. <3