#If he ends up in Salt Lake City I might actually call those two up and be like. If you see him please take a picture with him for me

[posting-for-the-void]

If wilbur goes to utah AGAIN i will summon my utah friends from their desert home and say “Find The Lanky British Man Who Sings” and they will hunt him down for me I’m Sure. Hopefully this keeps the British out of the godforsaken state for a while. i simply cannot handle another utah arc anyways. it’s not like it’s a real state.

[acaciapines]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

i was tagged by @snarky-wallflower and i love talking, lets go!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

70 total, but 5 of those are chara's! so under my name its 65.

2. What’s your total word count?

1,427,738.....

cannot wait to break 2 million w the owl house daemon au. lets go!! never stop!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

whatever i'm into, but for fandoms i see myself continuing to write for in the near-ish future: deltarune and the owl house!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

you're something special: my first kris-identity fic! i have mixed feelings on this one lol. you can tell its the first i wrote and i hadnt yet solidified my version of kris, tho i think this one probably fits better with canon. overall i like it though!

but then a bigger heart grew back: ooooooh i REALLY love this one. its postcanon owl house fic centering on hunter's grief over flapjack's death and his friendship with waffles!!! i wrote and posted it the DAY after the finale came out which is still really wild to me. its also the only fic ive seen that uses my favorite headcanon of 'hunter didnt carve waffles, she found him' which im so so fond of.

i hope your organs fail you (before i do): this was the first deltarune fic i wrote after chapter 2 came out!! the beginning of my deltarune spiral....its sort of a messy non-chronological look at deltarune's various routes and how kris might experiencing the game's multiple save files. also it has such a banger title. salt lake city by motherfolk is just banger after banger lyrics-wise

non-imaginary friends: god i hate that this is up here dkgjdfg i wrote it back when deltarune first came out and it SHOWS. i refuse to reread it but i think it's kris trying and failing to introduce the dark worlds to asriel. c'mon guys ive written so many better deltarune fics. blease. let this one rest in the past <3

we don't belong (but we're together): oooh, a warrior cats one! im....i mean, this one is like, fine, i guess. it follows hollyleaf and jayfeather in an au where the two of them flee through the tunnels. it has fun lore and i do like my oc pine but. man. its also the fic where i gave hollyleaf a power and if theres one thing i would change about my warriors au its that holly would NOT get a power. this is why i pre-write all my fics before posting now!

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes!! or at least i try my best to. i love and appreciate all my comments sometimes im just Bad at responding to them....i never know what to say beyond 'wow thank you' so sometimes i try to focus more on comments where i can actually say something of substance, yknow?

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh thats hard hmmmmmmm. i think i'd have to say it's and i want to tell you something-- which is a fic about kris & ralsei & the player/soul, where susie and noelle try to save kris from the soul, but both kris and ralsei know they cant survive without it. so in the end kris shatters the soul and is implied to die rather than keep being trapped.

its!!! certainly a time!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

hmmmm. i think most of my ending are pretty bittersweet so in terms of pure happy ending...gonna go for a deep cut here and say its my naddpod fic +1 dad in which moonshine meets lucanus when shes a kid and they hit it off and they get to have that father-daughter relationship from the start. bc lucanus is the BEST naddpod npc and oh my god he loves his daughter so so much you guys--

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have a few times but its never been like, super major. the funniest time is. i deleted the comment so i dont have the exact wording but im pretty sure someone called me a fandom-deserting cur for. not writing more warrior cat fanfiction?

like what were they expecting. truly.

9. Do you write smut?

no im very aroace lol. i barely write romance.

10. Do you write crossovers?

i used to!!! i did the adventure zone crossed with both how to train your dragon and pokemon mystery dungeon: explorers of sky. i was a different person back then. i dont think i'd do it now, but. who knows.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but i HAVE had a fic pod-ficced which is still so amazing. like......woag. someone liked my fic enough to read the words out loud?????? huh????

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not exactly co-written but both sometimes i think i left you just to see if i'd be missed and a buy one, get one free sort of friend were inspired by conversations i had with my friend @hyperfixations-go-brr! they would not have existed without those long discord chats. halloween festival will live on forever. synth my love.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

im not super into ships beyond like. basic 'oh thats fun' when reading but i WILL actually give the two im the most excited to write in my dess raises kris au someday:

noelle/susie/ralsei: YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME. like. this is an au where noelle basically replaces kris in the fun gang but not in the prophecy and dkjgdfg its about. this budding relationship. and ralsei clinging to the prophecy that doesnt want noelle here and susie who bucks against anything that acts like it knows what shes supposed to do and noelle struggling with the return of her sister and a world that wants to write her out of the story and all of them wanting to be there for their friends but ralsei is dealing with so so much and in the end she gets to throw off her chains and be free <3 noelle/susie/ralsei is so real in my heart.

dess/chara: literally the funniest queerplatonic relationship ever. theyre reluctant coparents. dess trusts chara with kris's life. chara would never ever let dess watch either frisk OR kris unsupervised. chara is 'i can fix you' to dess's 'im literally the most perfect wife in the world.' dess doesn't believe romantic love is a real thing people feel. chara puts xir kids above everything else. dess never asked to be a mother even though she literally kidnapped her best friends baby sibling. they get married for the tax benefits. they should absolutely get a divorce.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

oh god theres so many i would love to finish but its been so long i doubt i'll go back to them lol. the sequel to +1 dad that involves baby moonshine going to gladeholm. wall-e daemon au. gravity falls transcedence au daemon au. percy jackson daemon au. deltarune daemon au fangame.

as you can see its mostly various daemon aus. they were fun while they lasted! but ive moved on </3

16. What are your writing strengths?

pov you are me suddenly forgetting every single thing i have ever written.

i think im very good at writing otherkin or otherwise nonhuman characters. the comments that always bring me the most joy are those on my otherkin fics, by people who were able to see themselves in what i wrote--i think this is a thing that took me a lot of failed attempts to get just right and im really really proud of what i have.

im very good at writing daemon aus <3 there is sort of. an art to figuring out if one a work even needs daemons and two how daemons enhance or add to some aspect of the original work. theres a lot of things i like that i dont think really work with daemons but i always really enjoy figuring out how to add daemons and how to make my daemons like, characters in their own right, you know?

i like to think im good at dialogue and characterization! theres a few characters--kris and the collector, firefly to an extent--that im really proud of the voices i've made for them.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

fight scenes. fight scenes. oh my god i hate them so much they are SO HARD. stop making me put!! visual things!! in my text based medium!!!

really any scene that relies on having a strong idea of like, physical descriptions and sense of a place--i have aphantasia so having to describe scenery and landscape and just, anything really is always a struggle for me.

i also struggle with pacing, to an extent, especially across longer works (im looking at you, owl house daemon au)--knowing how long a plot arc needs to last and how to make it interesting still even when its going to be around for 600k+ words is a challenge and if the owl house daemon au was my first massive fic undertaking i dont think i'd be able to do it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

god im so bad at it but i really really am trying to be better--one big thing im going to focus on in my owl house daemon au edit is based on this because i want luz's identity to stick with her throughout the fic rather than it taking a backseat, but i am not a spanish speaker!! i know like, a LITTLE, but nowhere near enough to feel confident writing it.

so. its a time!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

warrior cats. and beyond just 'oh its the first fandom i posted fic for' no i was writing warrior cat fanfiction from the START. i was out there on the playground coming up with warrior cat ocs. i was printing this stuff out in the school library. i would hand-write fanfiction about my childhood cats becoming warrior cats and starting their own clan. i would roleplay warrior cats on my bedroom floor with pictures of cats i cut out of printer paper and bits of plastic folders i folded into triangles and write down the stories i came up with.

i was the most warrior cat kid to warrior cat kid. I Have Always Been This Way.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

ohhhhhh this is SUCH a tough question i have so many im so fond of, but i think i'm going to have to go with alterhuman. it's an animorphs fic about tobias post-canon and its an exploration of species identity and being a hawk and as a red-tailed hawk myself, a lot of it is deeply personal, a lot of it is my love letter to animorphs, and a lot of it is neffit, who is the best oc i have ever created, hands down.

as for tags, uh....anybody who wants to talk about their fics! even if we dont know each other!! go forth! ramble on about your own stuff for an hour!! truly so so fun.

also @wynterwulf7 and @mackerelgray and @hyperfixations-go-brr. obviously. <3 even if its about fic that isnt on ao3.

[delos-mio]

First Thing To Go - DAY 1

DAY 1

Around dinner time and with a complimentary drink in hand, you took the elevator to the top floor. The Oceanfront Suite at the Four Seasons Maui awaited you and Kendra- two full weeks of what was supposed to be romance and relaxation. Now it seemed you wouldn’t be experiencing either. You made it to the grand white double doors of the suite and let yourselves in. 

The suite was enormous with a living and dining room, doors off to the side that led to a master bedroom with a canopied California king bed. The en suite had a jacuzzi with crisp, white his and her robes hanging beside it. Your mouth downturned and you quickly spun on your heel, eager to look at anything else. 

“Holy shit,” Kendra said with a whistle. “You guys were really gonna ball out.”

“Were,” you muttered and tossed your bag aside. 

“Sorry.” Her eyes were down before she turned to investigate the suite further. You shouldn’t have been so defensive, especially toward the one person who dropped everything to be there for you. But you couldn’t help the turning of the knife in your chest every time you were reminded of why you were originally supposed to be here. 

The room was ridiculous. There was a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon waiting for you with a card from the hotel. You flipped it open and read the obnoxious calligraphy inside:

Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Langford! From, your friends at the Four Seasons

Great. You really should have seen it coming by now. The hotel was under the impression this was your honeymoon, after all. 

“This balcony is sick!” You looked up and saw Kendra leaning on the glass wall, face turned up to the sun. You tossed the stupid card in the trash can on your way to join her. She was right- the view was absolutely breathtaking. There was pristine sand and cerulean ocean as far as the eye could see, the smell of salt and tropical flowers heavy in the air. You took a deep breath and stood next to Kendra. 

“I’m sorry for being shitty to you,” you said softly. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “But I hope you do realize I’m not going to let you mope while we’re somewhere this fucking beautiful.”

You laughed and nodded in silent acquiescence. 

“Can I make a suggestion for our first order of business?” you asked with a playful turn of your lips. Kendra looked over with a raised eyebrow, urging you to go on. “I brought my medical card. Find a dispensary and order room service?”

“Ugh, so brilliant. Such a smart and thoughtful woman,” Kendra said, flashing you a devilish grin. 

—-

It hadn’t taken much work to find a provisioning center near the hotel. You and Kendra made quick work of the trip and returned to the suite, ordering enough food to clean out the kitchen. The sun was long since down and you were laid out in the sun loungers on the balcony, pleasantly high with a belly full of food, just looking up at the sky with Kendra. 

“It’s nice to see them for once,” you said. 

“Hmm?”

“The stars. Don’t really get to see much of them back home. Only if you go out over the lake.”

“Yeah, it’s really relaxing,” she agreed before letting out a long yawn. “I’m sleepy. I’m gonna go lay down- you staying out here?”

“Just for a little bit longer.” Kendra looked at you as she stood up, biting her lip with uncertainty. “I’m not going to jump if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She laughed as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Just making sure. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night.” And with that, Kendra shut the balcony doors behind her, leaving you alone with the ocean breeze and half a blunt. 

The world was quiet out here- nothing like the constant roar of the city. Lake View was a wonderful neighborhood and one you loved dearly. But there was something about only being able to listen to the breeze rustling palm leaves that put you at ease. You didn’t really consider yourself a beach kind of gal, but perhaps you could see yourself becoming one. After the last 72 or so hours, a little quiet felt pretty good. Serene, even. Maybe Kendra really was onto something when she begged you to come out here. 

You lit the end and took another deep hit before closing your eyes and exhaling. 

“Ah, one of my favorite smells.” Your eyes snapped open and you gasped, totally unaware that anyone else was anywhere near you. You clumsily tried to snuff out the blunt, knocking over the ashtray onto the marble floor with a loud crack. “Oh shit,” you coughed and looked around trying to find the voice that had just spoken. 

“No need to stop on my accord.” The voice was deep and smooth, sultry even. There was a good chance you just made a total fool out of yourself while fumbling around in your inebriated state. You were still anxiously looking about when he added “On your left, darling.”

You spun and finally saw a feline smile on the face of a tall, undeniably gorgeous man standing on the balcony next to yours. He was tall and lean, all dark hair, beard, and eyes. Truthfully, he was textbook ‘your type’. But the minute that thought ran through your brain, you were already mentally berating yourself for even finding another person attractive just a day into what was supposed to be your honeymoon. He took a swig from a rocks glass and cocked an eyebrow. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about the smell traveling,” you said sheepishly. 

“Like I said, one of my favorite smells.” Like a good neighbor, you walked to the railing closest to him and offered out the blunt to him. “Sorry,” he said, raising a hand. Fuck, even his fingers were beautiful. “I’m down to only liquid vices these days, I’m afraid,” shaking around the ice in his glass for emphasis. 

“Ok…” You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but didn’t think it was appropriate to press a stranger for details. 

“I’m Logan, nice to meet you,” he said and stuck out his hand far enough that you could just barely brush the tips of your fingers against his as you introduced yourself. It was a completely awkward gesture, which seemed to greatly amuse Logan. 

“Likewise.” You put your feet back on solid ground and looked at Logan again. 

“So, are you here in a suite by yourself or is there a mister or missus with you?”

“Real smooth,” you laughed. 

“It’s just a question,” he said, tone laced with faux innocence. 

You stopped short and considered dumping everything that happened on him right then. “I’m here with my best friend, actually,” you said tersely. 

Logan narrowed his gaze as he looked you over. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I literally don’t know you, so yeah,” you laughed, trying hard to keep it casual. 

“Maybe that’s true,” he shrugged, “But it’s written all over your face. It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me.” He took another drink. “I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

“Ok, lay it on me,” you said, almost baiting Logan, and leaned on the railing with your chin resting in your palm. 

“I checked out of a rehab in Malibu last night. My shrink told me it’d be better for me if I slowly worked my way back into the real world and suggested I take a little to myself before getting back to work and my family. Life in general, I guess,” he shrugged. 

You didn’t know the man, that was certain, but you didn’t expect him to say that. Or to be so honest. You were really starting to feel bad for getting high right next door to him. “Wow, I...I’m so sorry for smoking next to you.”

Logan just laughed and waved you off. “You have nothing to apologize for, darling. Besides, you literally didn’t know me, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him quoting your own words  back at you. “Very funny.” You looked down for a minute before taking a long breath and exhaling. “And how’s the ‘time for yourself’ thing going? Is it scary,” you asked. 

“So far, so good,” Logan said, clearly considering how it was actually going. “I’ve been clean for 94 days now, so my cravings aren’t as strong. I mean, I still want to use, don’t get me wrong. But it’s nowhere near as intense. And what’s not to like about being in paradise?” He was grinning, despite the weight of what he just told you. It was admirable, you thought. 

“This was supposed to be my honeymoon,” you said abruptly. Why you decided to tell this stranger, you didn’t really know. But it felt like it would be ok to share it with Logan. Besides, you’d probably never see the dude again- who cares if he knew?

“Pardon me?”

“This,” you gestured broadly at your balcony and room, “I’m supposed to be enjoying my honeymoon right now. But as I already told you, I’m here with my best friend. Like, my actual best friend. Not the ‘oh I’m so glad I’m marrying my best friend’ best friend. And not a husband. Don’t have one of those.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said with a small frown. 

“He packed up all his things, told me there was someone else, and left me two days before our wedding.” You let out a sad chuckle, using all your might to fight back the tears you knew wanted to form in your eyes. “So, yeah. Guess we’re both kind of bummers, huh?”

“For what it’s worth,” Logan started, leaning in closer over his ledge, “I think the guy’s a fucking douche bag for leaving you. I know we don’t know each other very well, but you seem delightful. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

“You’re seriously going to hit on me when I just told you I was supposed to get married yesterday?” you scoffed. 

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked, raising a perfect eyebrow and checking you out from head to toe. “If I see a beautiful woman, I think it’s my duty to share that with her.” 

“You’re shameless,” you smiled and shook your head. It should have disgusted you. It should have turned you off and made you think Logan was a pig. But you couldn’t help but be just the smallest bit charmed. He was a flirt, and there was a little piece of you that was genuinely flattered. 

“I’ve been called worse,” he laughed. 

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said before looking back out over the ocean, hoping to hide the heat that was rising in your cheeks. 

“My pleasure,” Logan said with a smile. “So, the asshole left you high and dry and you went on your honeymoon with your best friend anyways?”

“To be fair, it was her idea.” You tugged at the ends of your hair, suddenly nervous that Logan would judge you. 

“I like her style.” He finished off his drink. “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else who deserves to be stoned in Hawaii more than you,” Logan grinned. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned. “So fucking embarrassing.”

“Nah. It’s cute. You’re cute.” His voice was low and gravely, but playful. You felt a stirring in your stomach and knew you had to cut the conversation short while you were still ahead. 

“It’s late, I should probably go to bed before Kendra thinks I’ve done something stupid.” You meant for it to be a joke, but you realized you really didn’t want to worry her more than you knew she already did. 

“Wouldn’t want that,” he nodded. 

“It was nice talking to you. Thanks for letting me dump all my baggage on you,” you said, a tiny smile forming on your lips. 

“Any time, darling.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” As you said it, you realized you really hoped you would. 

“I sure hope so,” he said with a smirk.

“Goodnight, Logan.” You bit gently on your bottom lip and finally pushed away from the railing. 

“Sweet dreams.” 

You let yourself back inside and quickly got ready for bed. Talking to someone removed from the whole ordeal felt nice- someone who didn’t ask a million questions so you could just process what happened in its simplest terms. And Logan had proven to be thoughtful and a good listener. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Logan was ungodly hot. No, you scolded yourself. No thinking about Logan or anyone else like that for a long, long time. Once you’d crawled under the covers, you couldn’t stop the weight of sleep tugging at your eyelids, bringing with it dreams of a dark eyed prince. 

TAGGED: @fific7 @abroadcastofthemind @suchatinyinfinity

[ezrasarm]

Loving You Too Late

[ day 3 | angstaggedon masterlist ]

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: You and Frankie have loved each other for a long time. You’re just a little out of synch.

Warnings: Angst, a tad bit of cheating (more like brief romantic overlap), language, main characters being idiots, oh and theres a funeral too

Credits: A massive thank you to @chaotic-noceur​ and @din-damn-djarin​ for beta reading and listening to me complain about how much of an idiot I am for deciding to write this! I don’t know that I would have finished it without your encouragement and now it’s the longest oneshot in my repertoire!

A/N: “Let’s write oneshots!” we said. “It’ll be fun!” we said. “Just connect the bullet points!” we said… 4.6K words later. Yeah we really have no self control at all do we?

You and Frankie had known one another pretty much all your lives. Your parents both had cottages on the same small lake where you would spend most of your summers. His place was just two doors down from your own so you knew who he was through community events and simply for being the “Morales Kid”. You hadn’t really gotten to know him until one summer when you applied for a job at the general store just across the lake. He was working stocking shelves the same year. You don’t think you’ll ever forget that first shift you shared together. You hadn’t seen him in a couple of years and you could hardly believe the name tag clipped to his shirt labelled “Frankie” when you first set eyes on him. He’d grown up a lot in the meantime. He was taller, his shoulders had broadened and he was more solidly built than the lanky little kid you’d known him as for so long. But the mop of wild chestnut curls on top of his head that he hid under a beat-up and salt-stained truckers cap assured you it was him. 

It was the boredom of day-long shifts in the near-empty store that made the two of you overcome your timid demeanours. It started with you offering him a soda on one of your lunch breaks. That turned into long conversations with one another when your boss was nowhere to be seen, sending goofy looks to each other over the shoulders of unsuspecting customers, and stealing the occasional ice cream from the freezer. Soon just hanging out at work turned into hanging out whenever you got the chance. You peering over his shoulder as he tinkered with boat motors he’d salvaged from the brink of death. Him timing you when you would swim lengths between the neighbour’s dock and your own. Before you knew it you were taking any excuse you could to spend time with one another, until it came to the point where you didn’t even need an excuse at all. Suddenly you and this shy kid with his feet on the ground and his head in the clouds were inseparable.

Of course, Frankie being Frankie didn’t realize what that clenching feeling that rose in his chest every time he set eyes on you was until it wasn’t there anymore. Summer had to come to an end at some point, and with it you two were reluctantly dragged away to your respective ends of the state to finish off school. The almost seven-hour drive between you complicated your usual hangout rituals but you took to calling one another whenever you got the chance. Frankie’s friends would tease him for it but he practically sprinted across the room whenever the phone rang. He had thick skin. He brushed them off when they would hoot or holler and make kissing sounds at the mention of your name. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He would remind them through an irritated roll of his eyes whenever they would ask about you. What he hadn’t realized was that the annoyance he felt towards them wasn’t because of their mocking tone or their rowdy demeanours but because a part of him wished you were.

It was a Friday night after you had ended your call with a heavy yawn and an apology that you had to go to sleep because you were up early that morning. A goofy smile lingered on his face as he flopped back into his bed, that infectious laugh of yours was still ringing in his ears when that feeling washed over him again. The same one that made his stomach flip when you would shoot him a grin from the checkout of the shop. The one that made his blood boil when his friends would joke at him for making you up. The one that made his heart break when the line went dead after you hung up. The one that made his palms sweat and his heart hammer against his ribcage at the mere thought of you. Suddenly it hit him like a freight train all at once. It was too obvious to deny any more. He was completely, absolutely and utterly head over heels for you.

But as school work ramped up and your agenda got fuller and fuller, your calls became fewer and farther in between. A quick ‘hello’, ‘what’s new?’, ‘nothing much’ and a ‘sorry, I gotta go’. There were a few times where he almost let it slip. The conversation would come to a lull and his eyes would fall to his feet. His hand would instinctively come to scratch the back of his neck as he readjusted his grip on the phone. He would even start the sentence. “Listen, uh” Then he’d shake the thought away. As desperate as he had grown to tell you how he felt he couldn’t bring himself to do it over the phone. He needed to see your face. He wanted to lock his gaze onto those beautiful eyes of yours and see your reaction. His skin crawled at the idea of the words tumbling out of his mouth only for you to go silent and that dreaded tone to ring through the line telling him you had hung up. He would tell you this summer, he promised himself. Just a few months. He could hang on that long. 

Which he did. He had a speech planned by the time he watched your car pull up the driveway to the small wooden cabin you called your home every summer. A smile broke across his face as he stood up from the doorstep where he had been waiting to greet you. You came barrelling out of the car the moment it came to a full stop, just about knocking him over with the force you collided to envelop him in a tight hug. 

“Why are you crying, you big baby?” He teased when you pulled away only for him to see your eyes were watery with unshed tears. 

“Because I missed you, you idiot!” You force out a laugh, whacking the visor on his cap lightly so it fell down in over his line of sight before wiping away the damp from around your temples with the heel of your palm.

Frankie’s heart is hammering in his chest when he parts his lips to speak again. He’s got the words on the tip of his tongue when a voice he doesn’t recognize emerges from behind you. “So you’re the famous Frankie I’ve heard so much about!” He feels the smile on his face drop the moment his eyes fall on the stranger in question who has now tucked his arm around your waist. “I’m Mike.” He says, an amiable smile on his face as he extends a free hand to shake. Frankie hesitates a moment, his confession from before still lodged in the back of his throat. He has to choke it down with a curt smile before he accepts the gesture. He’s not sure how long he stands there, politely nodding along to the conversation, his mind elsewhere as you make introductions he’s not ready to hear. You looked so happy together he can’t help but feel out of place. He’s not even sure what words he used to excuse himself as he retreats down the beaten dirt path that leads back to his place. 

He’d never felt his emotions flip on their head so fast he felt he might have vertigo. Yet here he was, his head spinning and the taste of bile bitter on his tongue. He felt like a fool. Wracking his brain for any sign you could’ve given him, any warning that would have told him to stop. Stop loving you as though that were a thing that was within his power to do. He’s got every phone call you had shared since you left playing on repeat in his head but he keeps coming up empty. You gave him nothing. That or he was too selfishly consumed in his own ardency for you that it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might already have your own… for someone else.

“Hey, where were you?” You asked him from where you’d perched yourself on the stretch of dock just in front of the boathouse. His boathouse. Your toes just barely skimmed the surface of the calm water sending ripples across the lake. It had been three days that you hadn’t seen him, a long stretch by your standards. At first, you had simply put it down to him being busy. Maintaining his parent’s property was no small feat and there was no one there to help him yet this season. But the longer you went without a sign of him the more worried you started to get. 

“Had to pick up gas for the boat.” He said, jostling the jerrycan in his grasp and you formed your mouth into an ‘o’ as you nodded in understanding.

“Did it strand you in the middle of the lake again?” You ask a smug grin pulling at the corner of your lip as you recall the time you saw him fruitlessly rowing the old fishing boat against the wind with only one ore and had to go out there and rescue him yourself.

“No,” He scolds you genially as he comes to sit next to you with a heavy sigh. “...not this time.” He adds, causing an affable chuckle, one that made his heart skip a beat in his chest, to escape you. It’s only when he catches himself staring at your up-quirked lips that he has to clear his throat. A pang of guilt that hasn’t quite become custom yet is nagging at the back of his mind as his gaze falls in front of him. 

“Where’s Mike?” He asks hesitantly, not entirely sure he wants an answer to that question yet.

“He left this morning.” You say. He hates that the sombre note to your voice actually gives him an ounce of hope for a moment. “He has to be back in town for work on Monday.”

“Ah, a city boy.” Frankie teases in an attempt to muffle his own disappointment and you jostle him with your shoulder chidingly.

“Hey, lay off.” You laugh softly before your tone shifts and those upturned corners of your mouth drop wistfully. “I thought you’d like him.” You said, quieter now as though you weren’t convinced you wanted him to hear it. 

He hated the way you looked up at him, your eyes blown wide with such expectation. He hated that his opinion mattered and that it wasn’t the one you wanted to hear. Because that was just it. Frankie did like him. Or at least he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. He should like him and yet the mere mention of ‘Mike’ made him want to punch a wall. He’d been hiding away this entire weekend because he could hardly stand the thought of looking you in the eye when he couldn’t tell you the one thing that had been playing in his mind on a loop for months. Yet here you were, forcing his hand and he couldn’t even be mad about it. He was just so desperate to be near you.

“I- yeah.” He clears his throat as his gaze falls to the water, and a pregnant pause fills the air. You purse your lips as it hits you that he’s less enthused about this introduction than you had hoped he would be. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” He huffs out softly through an obviously feigned attempt at a smile. But the truth was you didn’t know. Or at least you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t figure out why but something in the back of your mind had told you it would hurt him. And with the look on his face as you tried to come up with a decent answer, he was beginning to prove you right. 

“I don’t know.”

You hadn’t intended for it to work out this way. But that just so happened to be the last conversation you had with him. You left for university and the next thing you heard, he had shipped out and joined the army. Perhaps it would have stung a little less had he been the one to tell you, but you had to hear it through your parents when you went home for mid-term break. Everything about the way you left things with him made you sick to your stomach. You had drifted apart from your fair share of friends over the years. It was never easy. It always hurts. But it had never hurt like this. It took you years to find out why.

“Whatever happened to you two?” Margaret, the next-door neighbour who lived just between your cottage and Frankie’s, asked, looking fondly at the scrapbook in her lap. “You were always so cute together.” She added, her voice warbling with what she excused as ‘age’. She had come over briefly to borrow something when you invited her in for a drink and she caught sight of the picture book on the coffee table.

“Who?” You asked, leaning over to take a look at the photo. “Oh, we weren’t… together.” You interjected, feeling childish for the way you avoided the implication that you and Frankie had ever been a couple at all costs. 

“Really?” She asked, leaning back to quirk an eyebrow at you skeptically. “Try telling him that.” She scoffed, plucking another photo from the binder. It was the two of you at the end of your dock. You were flaunting the tiny ass fish you had caught for the camera as though you had just caught that night’s dinner. But what grabbed your attention wasn’t the goofy look on your face, the ridiculous stance you had adopted, or the fish you were holding cautiously at an arm’s length. It was Frankie, his gaze set unflinchingly on you.

“Really, we were just… friends.” You try to explain, but you’re too distracted by the admiring look in his eyes and lopsided grin at his lips to sound entirely convinced by yourself. 

“All I know is that the way he is looking at you,” she says, prodding a shaky finger at the photograph, “is not how friends look at one another.” She concluded before dropping the subject altogether. 

Sure, it had crossed your mind from time to time. The idea of you and Frankie being together wasn’t all too outlandish. You could see how she might have been confused after all. You got along well, you spent a lot of time together, you cared about him deeply and dare you say you even loved him but- 

You loved him. 

The thought had implanted itself in your mind before you could even process it and suddenly you couldn’t believe what you were admitting. Staring down the snapshot of your former self now, all you could do was wonder why the hell you couldn’t have caught on sooner. Why you couldn’t have turned around in that moment, seen him and had it all snap into place before you managed to fuck it up so royally. Why...Why did you have to fuck it up? Your mind snapped back to the night before you left that summer. You hugged him and you could still feel the lurch in your chest, not unlike the one you were experiencing now, from when his grip on you lingered a few moments longer than usual. 

You were scared.

Scared because you had never done this before. You had never been in love or fallen out of it, and you had convinced yourself the only outcome was heartbreak. Scared because if things went south, you would lose not only the person you had ever loved like that but your best friend too and that was too high a price for you to pay. Scared because you didn’t want to hurt him just because you knew you were too afraid to take the leap. 

Turns out you managed to do that anyway. 

So now, as much as you wanted to- as much as your heart bled for you to march down to his place and bang on his front door until he was forced to open up, you knew you were too late. He was stationed god knows where with a whole new life of his own. You probably couldn’t even get a hold of him now if you tried. So you didn’t. Instead you cleared your throat, took a sip of water and asked Margaret if she had any big plans for the summer. 

You thought you had moved on. Which was why you weren’t looking for him when you attended the very same Margaret’s funeral six years later. You weren’t searching for him when you caught sight of a familiar silhouette a couple meters ahead of you and you certainly weren’t trying to grab his attention when you snatched that trucker’s cap off his head on your way into the church for the service. 

“Really? At a funeral? You’re wearing a suit.” You chided as he whipped around, his hand instinctively going to smooth down his hair as his eyes fell on you. He hesitated a moment, his mouth agape as he took you in. Your immediate assumption was that he didn’t want to see you, that perhaps time alone doesn’t heal all wounds and as much as you had hoped this would be easy, as much as you wished you could fall back into old habits as though nothing had happened, you were different people now. It had been twelve years after all. A wave of panic rose in your chest as you tried to fill the silence. “I didn’t think you owned one of those.” You joked. ‘Sure, tease him more. That’ll help’ you cursed yourself but you were relieved when a soft chuckle escaped him.

“No, I uh, I had to borrow it.” He huffed out. He was sure his cheeks were on fire with the heat that had flooded them all of a sudden. He froze the moment he laid eyes on you. He hadn’t done that in years and suddenly he felt himself being reduced to some teenage crush that made his heart stutter and his palms sweat. “Y- You look good.” He remarked, still feeling out of his element in the ill-fitting suit as he watched you, beautiful as ever, toying with the brim of his hat.

“So do you.” You said, biting back the smile that threatened to break across your face. This clearly wasn’t the place. You wound up sitting together for the rest of the ceremony, dropping by the reception for a moment to pay your respects, then inviting him for a drink at the bar just down the street so you could catch up properly. There was a moment’s pause where you thought he might turn you down. He probably had things to get back to in his limited time back in town and who were you to get in the way of that? But instead he shot you a classic Frankie smile, one you hadn’t seen in a long time, and you wound up reliving memories of summers passed in the dingy leather clad booth for hours.

It was as you emptied out into the parking lot. It was late and you both had places to be in the morning. Perhaps you’d had a bit too much to drink or maybe it was just that magnetic pull you always seemed to feel when you were around him. His head was thrown back in laughter over something you had said and his features, aged slightly from the time that had elapsed but still carrying those undefinably ‘Frankie’ qualities you had fallen in love with in the first place, had been outlined in the dull glow of the orange street light a couple meters away. For one glimmering moment you felt as though you had been handed a second chance. The one you had told yourself it wasn’t possible and that even if it were you were too late. But you had lived through that loss. The one that had paralyzed you with fear and self doubt for so long. You had suffered the aftermath and you had missed him so deeply you felt you were missing a part of yourself. And now he was standing right here in front of you. You weren’t about to let him slip through your fingers again.

“Frankie, I loved you.” You blurted out suddenly only to watch the smile that had been plastered to his face drop in the blink of an eye. ‘Well you sure had a funny way of showing it’ was his immediate thought but he was too stunned to get that out.

“You what?” He asked, not because your words hadn’t reached his ears but because he couldn’t seem to make sense of them. He had spent so long thinking you simply weren’t interested in him. That he wasn’t good enough or that he would always be playing second fiddle to someone else. Someone better suited for you, that you actually felt something for.

“I said I-” 

“No, I heard you.” He clarified but the clip to his tone and that look in his eye told you that you had overstepped. That you had just undone all the progress you’d made over the past couple hours. That this time you wouldn’t be able to rebuild the bridges you had just demolished so carelessly. How was it that he was always the one to suffer for your mistakes?

“Frankie I’m sorry, I never meant-” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before his lips were firmly planted on your own, a hand splayed against the small of your back, pulling you in towards him. You had to grip his upper arm just to keep yourself from toppling over from the sheer momentum of it all. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and you were sure the alcohol in your veins wasn’t helping the way your head was spinning but something clicked in your mind. It felt so right being in his arms, so comfortable, safe and familiar like this was the only place you were ever meant to be. You had just about gotten over the shock of it all, your muscles relaxing and your hand coming to cradle the nape of his neck when as quickly as they had arrived his lips were gone. He hovered there a moment, his breath, still heavy with fervor, was fanning over your top lip and his eyes were screwed shut tight as though if he opened them you would have disappeared. He just needed a moment longer before the stage set collapsed. Just a second... but it was already too late.

“Fuck,” He muttered more to himself but it made you shift awkwardly on your feet anyways as he pulled away, straightening back up to his full height. You felt much smaller now as you looked up at him. “Fuck, we shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have done that.” He stammered out suddenly, eyes pleading when all you wanted was for him to do it again.

“Frankie it’s fine, really, I-“ You went to explain, your fingertips reaching out to lace in his own but he flinched away the moment you made contact, his hand retracting as he stepped back to place some distance between you with a clearing of his throat.

“I should- I should go.” He gulped back, an apologetic look flashing over his features once more before he turned to walk away. You had to choke down the sting at the back of your throat, and bite back your quivering lip as you watched him leave. You weren’t quite sure what you had done wrong but any words in protest seem to catch on their way out. You felt powerless to anything but watch it all unfurl. 

You didn’t sleep that night, thoughts still reeling from the events of that evening. You tossed and turned until sunlight poured through your curtains and you were forced to give up. You weren’t ready to admit to yourself that that was it. That you had already screwed up your second chance, your final chance. Before you were even sure of what you were doing you had the number he had given you last night dialed into your phone, the tone ringing out a few too many times before you heard him finally pick up. “Hey, uh, it’s me. Listen, I just wanted to say that I know last-”

“Hello?” But the voice that came out from the other end of the line was not one that you recognized. It was a woman. You stopped dead in your tracks, your words lodging somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Sorry, I must have the wrong number. Is this Frankie Morales’ phone?” You stammered out, your words struggling to catch up with the thoughts spinning through your mind.

“No, this is the right number. He just stepped into the shower.” The mystery woman explained. “Can I take a message for you?”

“No thats- Can I ask who’s speaking?” You asked. You could already feel tears stinging at your eyes as the pieces started to fall into place. Why he pulled away, why he ran off and left you stunned in the parking lot of a small town bar after the best damn kiss of your entire life. The best damn kiss because it was with him...

“Jeanine,” She said and quite suddenly you felt like an idiot. You hadn’t even considered this outcome. That maybe your second chance wasn’t a chance at all. That you were foolish enough to think someone wouldn’t have smartened up and realized how remarkable he was before you.

“Jeanine…” You weren’t even aware you had repeated the name until it had slipped off your tongue, your voice weak and disbelieving. 

“His fiance.” She confirmed. You had to bite your knuckle to hold back the silent sob threatening to pry its way past your lips, white hot tears now breeching your waterline and streaming freely down your cheeks. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to dislike her. She was perfectly polite- probably perfect for him.  

“Right, of course.” You shake your head, attempting to get your breathing back under control before uttering your next words. You wanted to be mad at him for making you the other woman- for letting you become the other woman. For not telling you. But you couldn’t even manage that. It was your own doing. All you had done was rub salt in old wounds and now you were left with the searing evidence. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll- I’ll call back later.” You lie before hanging up. The line goes dead and the silence that surrounds you now is deafening as you slump back down onto your bed. 

And that was it. The end of something that never even began. You missed your chance. You were too late and now you were the one who would suffer for it. For knowing what his lips tasted like on your own, knowing the completeness you felt in his arms, and knowing you would never be able to feel it again.

[ angstageddon masterlist | Ezra’s arm masterlist ]

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[adifferenttime]

Honest Hearts: A Rough Rewrite

Hey! I’ve been working on an Honest Hearts rewrite-type-thing for a bit and figured I’d solicit feedback/assemble a post to store some of these ideas.

A detailed explanation of the premise is under the cut, but I’ve made this as a more interesting reintroduction to major locations, along with the characters who live there. I also have some lore consisting of letters, scripture, and holotapes that’s still in the early stages, along with a complete companion wheel for Salt-Upon-Wounds (he’ll follow you around for a little if you decide to help him out). Endings are now finished as well. I’m not planning on expanding this into a full mod, but I’m assembling everything in Twine so I can utilize branching dialogue and mimic skill checks.

I want to keep adding to and editing this because I’m having fun with it, so if you have any input, let me know!

Essentially, the story proceeds as written up until the point where Daniel sends you to either kill the White Legs or destroy their war totems. You quickly realize that their camp is deserted, at which point Salt-Upon-Wounds ambushes you, convo-locks you, and tells you that there’s an entirely different side to things here that you might not have considered.

Factions

The Mormons have established a theocracy in the Utah called Deseret, with New Jerusalem - what was once Salt Lake City - as its capital. Large numbers of them survived the initial apocalypse due to their pre-War focus on strong community ties and disaster prepping; over time, they have returned to the model of self-sufficient agrarianism that characterized the historical Mormon state of Deseret that existed in Utah in the 1800s. Their President, who wields supreme executive power, is also their Prophet. The Mormons believe he communes directly with God, but there’s some discontent in New Jerusalem over his hands-off approach to foreign policy and unwillingness to assemble a standing army. The Elders of the Priesthood are pushing him to allow for some kind of formal military to oppose what they see as revived versions of their ancestral enemies: America, Rome, and the “Lamanites” (this is what Mormons call Indigenous Americans; the “Lamanite” idea has historically been used as a justification for racism, and I’m reflecting that here because it’d be kind of heinous not to). In more than a few respects, Deseret serves as a mirror to the Legion and an exploration of the other side of the coin re: the tactics utilized by colonial empires to present themselves as legitimate while still claiming territory and steamrolling the opposition.

The White Legs are now more explicitly Shoshone, and I’m relying most heavily on the Timpanagos Band for names and historical inspiration (apparently the question of whether they’re Ute or Shoshone is pretty controversial, but I’m sticking with what the Timpanagos have said about it until someone corrects me). After migrating south in the wake of the Great War, the White Legs eventually settled in Ogden, about a day north of New Jerusalem. Initial interactions with the Mormons were friendly, but as New Jerusalem grew and its need for farmland and resources increased, tensions rose before culminating in open violence in around ‘76 or ‘77. Deseret’s party line is that the White Legs conducted a “raid” on one of their settlements and had to be driven away from Ogden; the White Legs claim the violence was not a raid, but a revenge killing after a Mormon killed a young man and was found not guilty by Mormon legal authorities (this is a theocracy, so “legal authorities” here can be understood as indistinct from “the church”). The Mormons established a new settlement on the ruins of Ogden, which they called New Canaan, and the White Legs fled to Salt Lake, where they have been dwindling in number ever since. Salt-Upon-Wounds’ plan to seek entry to the Legion is a last-ditch attempt to save his people from eradication when their neighbors and the land itself seems intent on killing them (not that that makes all the war crimes ok, which is a sentiment you’ll be able to express to his face if you engage him in conversation).

The Dead Horses are a pastoral society from out of Dead Horse Point, and are split almost down the middle along political lines. The more conservative, religious side opposes intervention in Zion. Graham desecrates the corpses of his enemies as an intimidation tactic, and because the Dead Horses’ religion is so eschatological and heavily focused on properly cleaning, preparing, and interring the dead, a big chunk of the religious leadership opposes him on that basis - they think his tactics are ungodly. They’re also worried that any Dead Horses who die in Zion and are interred there will be severed from their connection to Dead Horse Point and doomed to a separate, lonely afterlife. The younger, more progressive elements of the tribe are less traditionalist, sometimes less religious, and overall not as concerned about Graham’s treatment of the dead because of the potential benefit they might be able to derive from him. Follows-Chalk is their de facto leader, and while the Dead Horses don’t formally allocate political power, he’s among the most influential people in the informal tribal leadership. Most of the Dead Horses who’ve come to Zion have done so either because they support Follows-Chalk politically, or for practical reasons - namely, Graham’s access to a dizzying number of guns and his willingness to give them to anyone who’ll fight for him.

The Sorrows are now a terrace-farming agrarian society instead of hunter-gatherers (Zion has a lot of agricultural potential, and there’s already a few farming plots in the Sorrows camp you see in-game, so it’s not a huge departure from the canon). I’m keeping their Mexican heritage, but I’d like to give them some Ainu influences as well - partially for selfish reasons, but also because bears are extremely important to our culture and theology, which gels well with the elements of Sorrows culture and religion that appear in the canon. I’d like to keep the Survivalist because I like him, but I want to expand on their faith. One of the ways I’m doing that is by deciding they can still read English, even though they no longer speak it; it’s basically their equivalent of liturgical Latin. They’re also rigidly matriarchal and in contrast to the Dead Horses (who eschew formal political hierarchies) or the White Legs (who elect a chief who serves until he dies, is deposed, or voluntarily abdicates), leadership positions are allocated through matrilineal primogeniture; Waking Cloud inherited her position from her mother. Religious leadership, likewise, is only available to women. You’ll be able to talk to Waking Cloud about some of the ways this framework is incompatible with the Mormon perspective, and can appeal to her desire to retain power.

Characters

Canon Characters

Joshua Graham and Daniel are largely unaltered except through the addition of lore that gives insight into their cultures, motives, and pasts.

All three tribal leaders (Follows-Chalk, Waking Cloud, and Salt-Upon-Wounds) are either given new backstories, a different set of motives, or different approaches to one another/Graham and Daniel. They’re also explicitly leaders now - what power Graham and Daniel have, they derive from whichever tribal leader they’ve managed to attach themselves to. Of those three, I’m altering Waking Cloud the least and Salt-Upon-Wounds the most. Like I mentioned, I have a companion wheel for him so far and the bones of two other conversations - one, where you meet him for the first time, and the second, where you speak to him before the final battle. Will link as I finish them.

Original Characters

Each tribal leader now has a rival or right hand within their tribe so I can reflect the different ways the values of a specific community can express themselves.

Follows-Chalk’s primary rival among the Dead Horses is a man who refuses to tell you his name. That’s because using someone’s name in casual conversation is considered unspeakably rude, and the fact that Follows-Chalk is willing to share his own with you is, to Mysteriously Named Old Man Character, yet another sign of how disrespectful and laissez-faire Follows-Chalk is about their shared traditions. Old Man Character is suspicious of you initially, but if you speak to him more he starts to warm to you. The goal is to give you a sense that this he’s pretty xenophobic but for good reasons, and despite his political conflicts with Follows-Chalk, has a lot of love for him. He just wants what’s best for his family, and Follows-Chalk is part of that, even if Mysteriously Named Old Man Character thinks he’s making the wrong choices.

Kiiki is Salt-Upon-Wounds’ right-hand woman and intended as a contrast re: the approach to war and its costs. Salt-Upon-Wounds has done some horrible things and gets a fair bit of dialogue about that, but Kiiki is willing to go even further than he has with very little prompting. Her chief copes with what he’s done by trying to assure himself that the ends of war are worth the cost; Kiiki deals with it by trying to convince herself that the means weren't so bad, actually, and that anyone who isn’t nailing corpses to walls is being naive. All of that makes her sound pretty shitty, but she’s nowhere near as devoted to the idea of a Legion alliance as Salt-Upon-Wounds is. It only takes one very low Speech check to convince her that going Legion is a bad move, and one of the paths involves assassinating Salt-Upon-Wounds and installing her as the new leader as a way to stop the White Legs from joining Caesar. I haven’t added this path to the ending Twine because I’d like to finish Kiiki’s dialogues before I do that.

I’m replacing White Bird as the Sorrow’s spiritual leader with a woman named Imekanu. She’s incredibly old, savvy, and knowledgeable - she’s never been outside Zion, but has a store of books in English, Spanish, and Japanese that have allowed her some insight into what caused the war, if not the current state of the world. She’s also aware of the Survivalist’s origins - not because she’s entered any of his hideouts, but because she’s read over the scriptures and has correctly identified them as letters. Her perspective is that the Father in the Caves was a human being, but that doesn’t diminish his religious value. She sees him as analogous to the Buddha or a Catholic saint: human, sure, but still with access to some deeper truths about the purpose of man and the nature of human goodness. You’ll discover that this idea (that the Survivalist was a holy man rather than a literal god) is the most common perspective among the Sorrows, and you can talk to her about how this departs from Daniel’s perspective that the archetypal Father is divine, not human.

Quests

Each tribe has a specific quest that will either lower or bypass some of the penultimate checks that will determine your ending (people are more likely to believe what you’re telling them if you’ve already won their trust).

The Dead Horses: Joshua Graham has been putting the heads of the fallen up on pikes across Zion. The Dead Horses’ religion is deeply concerned with proper treatment of the deceased, and Graham’s decision to desecrate the corpses of his enemies goes against virtually everything they believe. The old man who won’t tell you his name asks you to take the heads off of the pikes and bury them deep in Zion, and to bring Follows-Chalk with you so you’ll have someone to tell you how to treat them properly. Over the course of the quest, Follows-Chalk will share some of his own beliefs about death, and you’ll have the opportunity to share your own. If you complete this quest without sabotaging it, Follows-Chalk will be willing to betray Graham to the White Legs before the final battle.

The Sorrows: This is basically just Ghost of She, but after defeating the Yao Guai you’ll discover a holotape revealing that the girl wasn’t killed by the bear, but by one of the murderers from Vault 22. Waking Cloud will speculate that maybe the Yao Guai wasn’t the ghost of the little girl at all but some other force that wanted to push you to discover the truth. If you wait until the end to tell Waking Cloud about the death of her husband, you’ll have to pass a Speech check of 75 to convince her you’re telling her the truth; completing this quest drops the check to 50.

The White Legs: Salt-Upon-Wounds will ask you to help him sabotage the Mormons’ preparations for the battle. If you help him with this, it’ll drop the Speech check for you to convince him to leave from 100 to 80. It’s not necessary at all to get the tribal confederacy ending, but a new note will appear in your inventory if you finish it and meet a couple other requirements (asking him certain questions, not attempting that one Speech check about religion, etc).

Endings

I’m trying to incorporate as much variety as possible, but there are three main ending paths: siding with the White Legs, siding with the other two tribes, and peace. The basic idea is that the outcome is predicated less on your direct intervention, and more on how other people act based on the facts they have available to them. Most of your influence is through your choices to hide or reveal key pieces of information, and the skill checks you need to access certain endings are less you convincing a character to do something and more convincing a character to believe you’re telling them the truth. There’s one major exception to this, it requires maxed Speech, and the ending it gives you is markedly bittersweet because you’re trying to get a guy to act against his own best interest. I’m writing all the endings up here, and will probably edit them as things change. The post where I explain them in more depth can be found here.

And that’s the story so far! Thank you for reading, and again: if there’s anything here you think is poorly-conceived, let me know. Thank you to @baelpenrose, who’s a grad student in the history of the American West, for helping me workshop a lot of this stuff. If you’ve got expert knowledge on any of the concepts I touch on or are personally a member of any of the groups I’m describing, please feel free to hmu: anon is on, and you’re always welcome to DM me. I’m just doing this for fun, but I still want it to be as not-shit as possible.

[orange-waterfalls]

Cell Block Tango, Ft. One Wilford Warfstache

ty @executiveespressodepresso​ for the request

A/N: I KNOW, I know. It took a long time. A really long time. 2 weeks is actually not that long but I GET IT. I’m done though! I am finished, I have completed one(1) fic, and I can rest easy now. I’ve had a bit of trouble with these types of fics before, mainly I just didn’t know how to write them. But I figured it out! Maybe. Sorta. I dunno, I kinda like it... ANYWAYS uh song bumps the rating up to a T, but there’s not really much else. You perform a song for Wilford after a long day! That’s it. Also Talking about Feelings at the end because I was feeling Angsty and wanted some Plot. It’s a long one dhwukcgfeywf anyways enjoy!

Word Count: 3.0k

Performing the Cell Block Tango for Wilford

You plopped down onto the living room couch and sighed. What a day! What a great, awful, stressful day. You loved Wilford, absolutely, but the man could be a handful.

You weren’t sure how it was possible for someone to have so many bullets in one gun.

In any case, you had to stop him from KILLING PEOPLE for a while before getting to come home. 

You didn’t have the emotional capacity to be mad at this point. You really needed to wind down.

First, you should make dinner. Last time Wilford stepped foot in the kitchen the whole house went up in flames. You grabbed your phone and called to order take out. 

You rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. You shook your head, knowing if you fell asleep Wilford might kill the delivery person. You went to the bathroom.

You turned the sink faucet on and splashed your face a few times. You looked in the mirror at your soaking-wet face. God Wilford was so difficult to deal with. Well… he’d gotten better… but he still had a long way to go before you could even consider taking him anywhere. If he wouldn’t pull a gun on all the therapists you took him to maybe he’d have gotten a little better in the time that you knew him.

Now that Wilford was back on your mind, you thought of a way you could maybe relax.

You walked back to the living room and looked down at the phone that you’d thrown on the chair beside the couch. You looked up, not seeing Wilford anywhere. You took a deep breath, and decided you deserved a little performing. As a treat.

You pressed play on the song when you found it, and you stood up. You stood with your back to the music, facing the wall.

"Pop. Six. Squish. Uh-uh. Cicero. Lipschitz," you said quietly. "And now, the six merry murderesses of the Crook County Jail, and their rendition of the Cell Block Tango…"

You began moving your arms in rhythm to the song. A smile twitched at your lips. This might’ve seemed a bit silly to anyone else, but luckily, you were alone. Right?

Yes, Wilford went to go see Dark. You were absolutely, 100% alone.

In fact, you were so sure that you were alone that you didn’t hear Wilford walk into the room. He saw you… dancing? Were you dancing? He didn’t think you danced. You didn’t seem like the type to dance. He tilted his head to the side a little, about to ask what was happening, before hearing the music play from the phone and closing his mouth. He decided to stay quiet and just… watch. 

The music began speeding up and you started to get really into it, moving around a lot. As the chorus got close, you turned around, only to find Wilford staring at you. He was standing in front of the couch, near your phone. You stared back at him, the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks. You prepared to shamefully walk away, to avoid him by taking a shower or saying you had to run to the store, to make sure he said nothing about this to you or anyone else.

But, Wilford seemed to have other things in mind.

Seeing you watch him like a deer in headlights, he thought there was something he should do in this situation, something to make you more comfortable.

With that in mind, he plopped down onto the couch, respectfully folding his hands in his lap, and looked at you expectantly.

Was that the right decision? Too late to take it back now. Hopefully it was.

You blinked for a moment before you got the memo and started moving again. You felt your skin burn in the still-present embarrassment as you continued your… well, it wasn’t quite dancing. Something along those lines, maybe. You expected Wilford to talk, laugh, comment, make any noise at all. But he just sat, watching you. You looked at him, nervous. He smiled brightly at you and you remembered that this was Wilford, dammit! The man loved you and would never wish any harm on you, physically or emotionally. And that’s when you decided to put a little trust in your boyfriend, and started to sing right as the chorus started up.

“He had it comin', he had it comin', he only had himself to blame… If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I betcha you would have done the same! Pop! Six! Squish! Uh-uh! Cicero! Lipschitz! Pop! Six! Squish! Uh-uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!”

Wilford nearly got whiplash when you started to sing. Since when? Could you do this? You had never? You were also quite good, so… why didn’t he know? 

You started getting more exaggerated and “angry” with your movements, which made Wilford smile. You looked like you were having fun(which you were) and he was happy about that. He also appreciated the few lyrics he processed over the look of joy on your face taking full control of his mind. He could relate to it, at least a little. He wondered if that’s why you liked the song…

He then realized that it probably wasn’t, but he liked the thought nonetheless.

“You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum. No, not chew: pop! So I came home this one day, and I am really irritated and I'm looking for a little bit of sympathy. And there's Bernie, laying on the couch drinking a beer and chewing. No, not chewing: popping!” You were waving your arms around while telling the story, and got this angry look on your face at certain points. While making the face, you pointed at Wilford accusingly. He frowned at first, before remembering you were acting. And, damn, you were good at it! "So, I said to him, I said, "You pop that gum one more time..." And he did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots... into his head.” You made a fake gun with your hands and fake-shot at Wilford. He leaned back on the couch, put on a surprised look, and laid a hand over his chest, playing along. You smiled at him joyfully before going back to singing.

He bit his lip to not laugh, as you might’ve taken it the wrong way. He was just very… happy. And entertained with what was happening.

“I met Ezekiel Young, from Salt Lake City, about two years ago, and he told me he was single, and we hit it off right away. So, we started living together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have dinner. And then I found out. "Single," he told me? Single, my ass. Not only was he married, oh, no, he had six wives. One of those mormons, you know? So that night, when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink, as usual.” Wilford got a bit distracted at this point, just by you. Everything you were doing. The dancing, the acting, the singing, the smiles… you looked so happy. He wondered why you didn’t look like this more often. He wondered how he could get you to look like this more often.

He’d heard someone talk about karaoke at the store one day.

Could he do that? Could he buy a karaoke machine? Would you want a karaoke machine?

“You know... some guys just can't hold their arsenic.” He was snapped back to reality,(ope, there goes gravity) when you ruffled his hair harshly at the last line. He looked up at you again and found you were still smiling. He automatically smiled back.

“Now, I'm standing in the kitchen, carving up the chicken for dinner, minding my own business. In storms my husband, Wilford, in jealous rage.” You accidentally said “Wilford” instead of “Wilbur”. Who could blame you, honestly. To save it, you started acting like you were talking directly to Wilford instead of just a make-believe audience. Wilford, on the other hand, panicked a little when you said his name. It wasn’t the same name as the song said, so… what? He then came to the conclusion that you just wanted to get him to pay more attention. 

"You been screwing the milkman," he says. He was crazy and he kept on screaming "You been screwing the milkman." And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times.” You leaned towards him, got up in his face, and grabbed and shook his shoulders. Wilford just kind of… sat there and took it, since he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He nodded a few times as well, seemingly a bit intimidated by you. It took much of your willpower to not break and start laughing at him.

His cheeks dusted a light pink because of how close you were getting to his face. He nearly leaned forward and kissed you, but caught himself. You were performing and he had no right to interrupt.

Still, your lips looked awfully kissable… 

“If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I betcha you would have done the same!” 

You had to mentally prepare yourself for the Hungarian part. You took a breath to lower your heart rate and told yourself that even if you messed it up, it was fine. It was just Wilford.

“Mit keresek én itt? Azt mondják, a híres lakóm lefogta a férjem, én meg lecsaptam a fejét. De nem igaz. Én ártatlan vagyok. Nem tudom, miért mondja Uncle Sam, hogy én voltam. Próbáltam a rendõrségen megmagyarázni, de nem értették meg.” You had to suck in a breath and miss a few lines to get your brain back on track. “Uh-uh! Not guilty!” 

Wilford was thrown completely off guard at the Hungarian and he stared at the phone. Where the hell did that come from? More confusingly, when he looked back at you, you seemed to be keeping up with the words, for the most part. Did you know Hungarian? Did you just know this part? You slipped up a few times but, hot damn, it was impressive.

You had this sad, innocent look on your face the whole time. One that made him wanna get up and hug you. But he didn’t because he knew that you were fine and you were acting and he was gonna let you finish this wonderful performance of yours even if it fucking killed him, goddammit!

Okay, he was being a little dramatic. Even so.

“My sister Veronica and I had this double act, and my husband Charlie traveled around with us. Now, for the last number in our act we did these twenty acrobatic tricks in a row. One, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops, one right after the other. So this one night before the show, we're down at the hotel Cicero, the three of us boozing, having a few laughs. And we ran out of ice so I went out to get some. I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Charlie, doing number seventeen: the spread eagle! Well, I was in such a state of shock I completely blacked out, I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead.” You decided you kick your leg up a little both times you mentioned spread eagles. Wilford shook his head, a little dumbfounded. He understood the implications in the song, and his face flushed darker. He wondered if you did too, because it just seemed like you did it for fun. In any case, he coughed into his hand quietly, as to not make you worry. 

You look at Wilford, a bit confused, but he just gave you a thumbs up for you to continue. You smiled and kept doing what you were doing, not noticing how flushed he was.

“They had it coming, they had it coming, they had it coming all along! I didn't do it, but if I'd done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?”

Wilford watched in utter fascination at how you were moving. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you choreographed this.

Well… he didn’t know what you did when he wasn’t home.

But you moved fairly fluidly through dances and you seemed to be on-tempo, even if the dances seemed random.

Random does not mean unplanned, he reminded himself. 

He was also a little distracted from your dancing by the song, because it was making him feel emotions he wasn’t sure existed. He was determined to memorize your every move, however, so that would just have to wait until another day.

“I loved Al Lipschitz more than I can possibly say. He was a real artistic guy, sensitive, a painter. But he was always trying to find himself. He'd go out every night looking for himself, and on the way he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving. I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive... and I saw him dead…” You stood pretty still for this part, since the song was almost over and you were feeling pretty tired. 7 minutes didn’t seem like a long time, but it’s different when you’re working out.

You did pace a little bit, while keeping your arm movement to a minimum. You felt your heart beating due to the exercise and also the anxiety of your boyfriend watching you. 

You did make a last-second decision to boop his nose when you got to the last word. This made Wilford blink harshly and look up at you with a pout. Before you went back to your original spot in the room, you gave him a little kiss on the nose. That made him grin from ear to ear and dig his fingers into his legs. You bit back a chuckle and started up again.

“They had it coming, they had it coming, they had it coming all along! 'Cause if they used us, and they abused us, how could you tell us that we were wrong? He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame! If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I betcha you would have done the same!” You kept dancing the same as you did before, even though your legs were starting to burn, and you were having trouble keeping the same fluid movements. Some of them became a little more jerky and forced than you wanted them to.

Wilford noticed this and brought his arms up a bit, leaning forward in case you needed help. He figured you wouldn’t, but he didn’t want you cracking your skull open or anything.

He’d be very upset if you did that… 

“You pop that gum one more time! Single my ass. Ten times! Miert csukott Uncle Sam bortonbe! Number seventeen: the spread eagle. Artistic differences…” You did all your previous movements for each woman’s line. Which included: The shotgun, throwing both hands above your head, getting in Wilford’s face, wiping a fake tear, kicking your leg, and shrugging, in that order. You were very out of breath and a bit disoriented, but that was okay because there was only a little bit left!

“Pop. Six. Squish. Uh-uh. Cicero. Lipschitz…” You ended the song by walking directly in front of Wilford and falling to your knees in front of him once you were sure the song had ended. You breathed heavily, feeling the tiredness from the day and the dancing catching up to you. You were about to ask Wilford “So, how bad was it?” before he slid to the floor and wrapped his arms around you. You froze, not knowing what was happening.

“You were fantastic,” He whispered. Which you thought was very strange because Wilford couldn’t speak lower than a yell, in your experience. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Wil, what’s happening?” You asked, still out of breath. He squeezed you a little tighter.

“I just… wanted to show love to my partner?” He said hesitantly. You scoffed and hugged him back.

“Do you feel guilty because you embarrassed me?”

“Yes…”

“Wil, you’re fine, I promise.” You chuckled. He sighed and sat back. You looked at him and frowned.

“I…” He ran a hand through his hair and avoided looking at your face. “I… know I’m not the easiest to deal with and… I… I wanna… make you feel comfortable…”

“You do make me feel comfortable!” You took his hands in yours.

“But every time I’ve looked at you today you were always scared or angry!” He argued. You closed your mouth, not really having any argument.

“Mm…” You hummed.

“I… wanna… get better. I wanna be better. For you.” He grumbled. You smiled and twisted yourself around so you were sitting between his legs with your head resting on his chest. He laid his chin on top of your head. 

“I think you’re perfectly fine.” You sighed.

“I don’t wanna be perfectly fine, I wanna be perfect!” He whined.

“Well, that’s an impossible goal.” 

“Then… I wanna be perfect… for you.”

“That’s a better one.” You looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest. You were listening. You understood. 

And you loved him.

“Am I a good boyfriend?” He asked.

“Of course you are.” You snuggled into his chest.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly as he could. You squinted at him as he gave you his very best puppy eyes. You gave in, and gave him a peck. You could feel his arms waving around as he tried to decide what to do with them. Eventually, he placed them on the sides of your neck. You pulled back after a little and he stared at you adoringly.

“Don’t you look at me like that…” You warned.

“I love you…” He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. You squirmed, trying to get out, but he didn’t move.

“Wilford…” You whined. “Lemme go! I ordered food!”

“Ok, I’ll let you go when the food shows up!” You huffed and let your body go limp as you succumbed to the hug.

You should’ve just cooked something.

[ourimpavidheroine]

Okay, @peoniequeen, here are your stories.

How many people do you know moved across the world for love? 

Well, you all know about this one. I met my late wife online in late 1998 on an X-Files message board, we emailed and then called, etc. until she came to the U.S. from Finland in September of 1999 to live with me for a year. After the year was up we relocated to Finland, in part because she could not legally immigrate to the U.S. during that time as a same-sex partner (Finland was a huge fucking pain in the ass about it but eventually they let me immigrate there based on our relationship status) and in part because we thought Finland would be a better place to raise kids due to healthcare, schools, etc. When I arrived in Finland it was the first time I had even been to Europe, never mind the country I was going to live in and the airline accidently left my two dogs in Amsterdam instead of putting them on the plane to Helsinki and I spent my first moments in my new home sobbing about my dogs until the very nice airline lady called for my late wife over the loudspeaker and let her come back and take me in hand (much the way Mako takes Wu in hand, if you must know). (Don’t worry, the airline put us up in a hotel next to the airport and the dogs came on the next flight and came to us there in a taxi the airline made arrangements for. They were completely fine and in fact weren’t sure what the fuss was about.) It was kind of a big culture shock. The end.

Or worked as a college radio DJ? 

I did! I had a show on Tuesday mornings from 4-6 am that nobody listened to but about 10 loyal people. (Kind of like my blog here, come to think about it.) I played a lot of old blues and jazz stuff that I’d grown up listening to. My Dad worked part time as a DJ at a local radio station so I knew how to work all the equipment and such thanks to him. (I also had a two hour slot on Wednesday nights there in high school where I played stuff teenagers wanted to listen to and not the never ending country western that the station owner and manager wanted played 24x7.) Yes, this was in the late 80′s-early 90′s when I was at university so it was all vinyl. I still have a collection of albums that have the gold stamp on them saying they are not for sale, that they are for radio station play only! (Some of them the aforementioned station manager gave me since they were not country and he was basically going to toss them into the trash and some of them were albums that I might have gotten through less altruistic means.)

Or was a makeup assistant to Drag Queens? 

I took a stage makeup course while I was majoring in theater at University and did so well with it that the guy who gave the class asked me to come and assist him at the San Francisco opera while they were essentially painting all of the singers brown in a classic racist move that was pretty well accepted in the 90′s but, thankfully, would be extremely frowned upon now. As I was doing it I struck up a friendship with one of the chorus tenors; it turned out he was a drag queen who sometimes did performances when he wasn’t doing opera. He was a Madonna impersonator (not a very good one, sorry to say) and he wanted me to help him design his makeup for it. So I went to the club he performed at a few times to get a better feel for how drag queens worked and then hung around backstage and ended up doing some designs for some of the other queens. The pay was basically me getting to see their performances for free and getting fed afterwards at whatever was open at 4 am but God it was fun. Also, now I am the most Judgy McJudgerson of ever when it comes to drag makeup on RuPaul’s Drag Race. The end.

Or wrote a letter to their Archbishop when they were twelve and got a personal answer in return? 

I was very put out by the fact that boys could be altar boys but girls got shit (I was Catholic, in case you haven’t guessed) and I was talking about it to my Grandma one time and she told me I should write a letter to the Archbishop and ask him why. Now see, my maternal Grandmother was married to a labor union president (my grandfather was still the president when he died of a heart attack when I was 8) and she was a good old fashioned liberal rabble rouser. Like, she got arrested with nuns protesting nuclear power plants in her muumuus and Birkenstocks, okay? She wrote letters to EVERYONE. So I sat down and very carefully wrote the letter and my Grandma made a few calls and got me the address and we sent the letter. I don’t think my Grandma actually thought I’d get a letter back (it was more of a teaching moment, if that makes sense) but he did send me a letter back! He was very kind, although his answer was the usual Catholic BS. I still have the letter but it is packed away in storage so I very sadly will not be producing it at this juncture in time.

Or drove from Los Angeles to Philadelphia in a 20 year old Volvo? 

My friend from university was going to Grad School at Temple University and her parents didn’t want her to drive the entire way by herself. So I drove with her in an orange 1971 Volvo sedan. (In fact, I drove about 90% of the trip because she didn’t like driving.) The air conditioning fan died as we were driving through the Mojave Desert on the way to Vegas and I realized that if I floored it the cool air would actually move itself and so I floored it all the way through the desert and we are lucky that fucking ancient hulk of Swedish steel did not die and leave us stranded to be baked to death. We stopped in Vegas (which was not as impressive in 1992 as it is today, trust me) and found a guy who could actually fix the fan and spent the night in one of the casino hotels before continuing on. We did stop in Chicago to stay with her grandparents for two weeks (where so many elderly Jews kept responding to my last name with confusion as they assumed I was Jewish that I eventually started to do genealogy and found out that I am, indeed, Jewish on my father’s side) and also we saw the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer film in Des Moines and went to a cowboy bar in Cheyenne (I learned how to line dance and my friend got completely trashed and I had to practically carry her back to the hotel) and many other adventures until we finally arrived in Philly and her parents flew me back to California. It was a great road trip and short of the reeeaaaally sketchy and filthy motel room in Salt Lake City that had both a half-empty Chinese takeout box and a soiled condom under the bed we had a grand time.

Or was part of a thruple? 

I have been part of two thruples. Well. Sort of. One thruple and one wanna be thruple. The first one, with my first husband and my girlfriend was a huge mistake from the get-go. (Oh god, she was so hot and the sex was so fucking good but she was really an awful person and my ex kept trying to control the entire thing and basically forced her into living with us instead of being just my girlfriend with benefits and the entire thing blew up and while it wasn’t the reason why I divorced him it didn’t help either.) The second one was with my late wife and our mutual boyfriend and it worked very well but he had a little boy from a former relationship and his son got very ill and died and he didn’t handle it at all and he disappeared out of our lives. It’s been 20 years, give or take, since I’ve talked to him. He asked us to no longer contact him and I’ve always respected that. And before you ask, he knows where I live and my email address is the same as it was all those years ago. If he wanted to find me it would be very easy for him to do so. He clearly doesn’t and I respect that. I wish him love and peace, wherever he is. I miss him still.

Or beat up the drunk lady in the hallway to get back a little girl’s keys?

Ah, I’ll tell this one tomorrow.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-four: please don’t fade away

“So what if you guys break up, though?” Joey asked her, concerned.

“We won't break up,” she promised him with a roll of her eyes; lucky for her, she had her sunglasses on so he couldn’t see it. But he glanced over at her from his view of the road with a slightly horrified expression on his handsome, narrow face.

“When's the last time you guys talked?”

“When I came back to New York,” she answered, blank.

Joey gaped at her as they rolled up to a stop sign.

“You should call him!” he exclaimed.

“Well, what if he doesn't?” she pointed out.

“He will,” he replied. “He has to, too. Better do it sooner rather than later. Yeah, it's only January, but from what I've heard, Metallica is busy. Busier than us and we're going on tour with them. You never know when you'll have another chance to do it.”

Sam fetched up a sigh but she never said anything beyond that. She continued to fume whenever the topic of Cliff came up, even after the heat had cooled off for her. She still resisted the idea of calling him for any reason whatsoever, even when she and Joey set up a little day trip for themselves in upstate New York while there was a break in between snow showers: it could not have come at a better time for her given she had a few more days off for Christmas at that point. He had loaded up his car with his ice skates plus his mask and his hockey stick and he was more than willing to play something for her by the time they returned home to North Syracuse. He also promised to show her his hometown of Oswego, the city by the lake shores.

At that moment, he had gotten turned around in Binghamton, a town he was familiar with no less and he had to wind his way through the side streets in search for the freeway once again. It didn't help matters that the neighborhoods were covered in a thick fresh blanket of pure white snow, and everything seemed to look the exact same to Sam. At least his heater worked and she kept her arms folded across her chest.

They kept on driving up the street until Joey spotted a sign which pointed to the center of town and almost without thinking, he made the left turn right there. They skirted around a roundabout and ended at a stop light. He flexed his gloved fingers and adjusted his dark sunglasses, and then he turned his attention back to her.

“Tell you what,” he started, but she didn't move a muscle; “when we get to 'Swaygo, I'll see if we can find a payphone for you. Because it's the first day of a new year, Sam. You gotta bury the hatchet and let that shit go in the previous year. It's just the logistical thing.”

She didn't reply, which prompted him to look over at her with a serious look on his face.

“D'you hear me?” he asked her.

“I did.”

“Well—you didn't say anything. I just thought—”

“I know.”

She turned her attention to him; through her own sunglasses, she made out sight of the reflection of snow on his lenses. His Roman nose looked so small from being in between those squarish pieces of darkness, and his sun kissed mocha colored skin appeared darker than normal. She wondered, that if she told Cliff the truth and made it clear down to the period for him over the phone, then perhaps she could start on something a little more with him as well as Joey.

And Joey had a point about the New Year having arrived like a shadow in the night already. A brand new day and a brand new collection of three hundred and sixty five days. Three hundred and sixty five days which she could use to make things right between them.

The light turned green and Joey tapped on the pedal. They lurched forward across the intersection: she spotted the onramp down the block, past all the garages and the series of evergreen trees blanketed in the snow to where it resembled to meringue.

They fell back into silence as Joey merged onto the freeway and they proceeded onward into the heart of upstate New York. The sun never broke out for a second from behind the thin veil of gray clouds across the sky: everything seemed so much hazier and clearer at the same time. Even at a quick clip, Sam could make out the shape of all the pine needles and the scraggly branches on every single tree that lined the road before them. Every barren tree, every dense little shrub, every stray patch of dirt against the otherwise thick layer of pure white snow.

Joey fiddled with the heater knob every so often even though she was comfortable there in the front seat. She thought about Cliff and if Metallica had a decent show the night before back in San Francisco. She wondered if her parents had gotten the chance to see them for themselves.

The cold of the wilderness around them paired with the cold of Metallica. She hadn't realized just how much she had wanted to see Anthrax as well. To see them at L'Amour again! But then there was Poughkeepsie as well as Ithaca, all the stops that Stormtroopers took for themselves that summer.

She knew if she planned on following a band again on tour, she needed to ensure that they took good care of themselves and if they even had rooms with functional showers again. Even though Joey was kind to her that day in Ithaca, there was no way she could do that again with all of those small hotel rooms and the awful feeling leftover from not a single bit of bathing for several days on end. She also wondered as to how Danny Lilker was doing as well given she hadn't seen him since around the time school started.

Within time she recognized the plain but dark Syracuse skyline against the gray veil of clouds courtesy of Lake Ontario. That inner city donut made her take a look down to her waist as it poked out a little bit over the waist of her jeans. The last time Cliff genuinely touched her was when they lay in her old bed together and he loved her new softness. She thought about donuts, and it made sense given she hadn't eaten a bite of breakfast prior to leaving New York City: Joey had gotten to her apartment rather late in the morning and she had no time to even so much as drink down her coffee.

He might as well have read her mind because he set a hand on his svelte stomach.

“Are you hungry?” Joey asked her with a glimpse over at her.

“Starving. Just driving through here on this proverbial donut made me think of actual donuts.”

He chuckled at that.

“Oh, I didn't tell you this,” he started again, “but last week, I was hangin' out with an old friend of mine over in Buffalo. And he dared me to eat as many donuts as I could because we were at a little party and he brought a dozen donuts but no one showed up. So he said, 'Joey, twenty dollars says you can't eat more than two donuts.' And I go, 'double or nothing, I eat however many as I want.'”

“Did you?” Sam asked him with her eyebrows raised.

“I only got to five out of the dozen but I did it, though! I made forty bucks to boot, too.”

“Did it make you sick?”

“Kinda. Around the fourth one, I was getting really full—you ever too much and your belly gets this kinda like swollen feeling?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“It was kinda like that. Good donuts, I will say that. Nice and light and fluffy—but there was one caveat, though. I ate a jelly donut plus a Boston crème donut, one right after the other as my final two. That was not a good idea. I was uneasy for a couple of hours.”

“I'd like a Boston crème donut,” she suggested.

“I'll take some eggs and bacon on a croissant, though,” he added, “especially given I'll be the one making the whole hockey thing. I think there's a bakery around the block of the hockey rink, too. Every time I played there with my team or just my friends, we always went across town to this coffee house and ate late night dinner.”

They fell into silence again and within time, she recognized North Syracuse, covered in a thick unblemished blanket of white lake effect snow. The buildings made her think of gingerbread houses, and it was right then she knew she had to eat something, even if it was as something as ephemeral as a donut.

Joey took the second exit and he led them towards the same neighborhood they had gone to before, the one by the lake shore. Even with one visit under her belt, that whole side of Syracuse began to feel familiar to her. New York was her home: she even made note of that to Cliff himself.

She even tempted the possibility of losing him in the wake of that declaration. New York was home to her.

Joey hung a right at the next stoplight and they took the street that wound near the lake's edge. There was a long low white stucco building that stood on the corner up ahead, and he merged over to the right.

“Yeah, I think it's around the corner here if I remember correctly,” he told her as they slowed to a stop before the driveway: the sun emerged for a few seconds from a break in the clouds overhead, but then dipped behind the gray once again. Joey shuddered even with the heat switched on.

“Better get inside and get something to eat,” he advised her; “I reckon it'll snow again.” And he took the first spot near the side door, which was raised a bit over the ground. Lucky for him, the shabby wooden stairs had been shoveled and salted.

“So you want me to get us things to eat and you can go in and get yourself locked and loaded?” she offered him.

“Actually I was gonna do it 'cause I've got the forty dollars with me and whatnot,” he admitted as he unfastened his seat belt.

“You want me to call Cliff, don't you?” she followed again as she took off her sunglasses.

“There is a payphone in there,” he told her so fast, it was almost without thinking about it.

“Hang on, I thought you were the bachelor,” she defracted.

“I am. But I even can tell ya that it's better to tell him 'bout it than to tiptoe 'round it. My parents have been together for a few decades at this point, and it's all 'cause of them I know these things enough. Notice how I said 'enough.'” He took off his sunglasses and set them atop the dashboard in front of him. His large brown eyes stared back at her like a pair of deep dark wells. So soulful and soft, almost too soft to even consider anything beyond a friendship.

She did see him without his shirt off after all. She was amazed that he managed to stay so thin given his hearty eating habits.

Joey reached into his jeans pocket for something and he took out three quarters.

“Here,” he said as he handed her the change. “Take these and make that call to him. I'm gonna get us breakfast and then I'm gonna do some warm ups. But 'til then—I want you to do that. For him, Sam.”

Sam looked right into Joey's big dark eyes as they swallowed her whole for a few seconds. She then sighed through her nose and took the quarters from his palm. She climbed out with them nestled inside of her palm as well as her purse hoisted over her shoulder. Joey himself climbed out on the opposite side and he ran his fingers through his inky black curls. She offered to help him out but he insisted to her that he had it all under control.

She gave her dark hair a toss back with a flick of her head and then she made her way into the cool, dimly lit locker room: on the right wall stood a series of faded metal lockers and a long wooden bench. She wandered to the corridor on her left, where it felt a lot cooler, almost cold in comparison to the rest of the building. To her right stood a metal rail: beyond that was a vast sheet of pearlescent white ice with those blue lines painted across; at the far end stood the bright red goal posts. She turned her head the other way and there, behind a small wooden bench, upon the wall, stood a trio of blue payphones.

She fetched up another sigh and she lunged for the one closest to her. If Cliff was all about trust, then Joey pushed her to take the initiative and pick up the phone. She dropped one of the quarters into the little silver slot and dialed his number.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

“Hello, hello?” His voice hit her like a brick wall.

“Hi,” she greeted him.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were my sister for a second,” he confessed, “and then I thought, no... it can't be. Anyways, what's going on?”

“I wanted to call you and talk to you because—you know, we had that fight and I left on bad terms with you.”

“Bad terms?”

“Yeah. You and I—we have an issue with trusting each other.”

He was silent for a seconds and she spoke again.

“It's imperative that we trust each other and be honest with each other.” It sounded weird for her to say that but it was true, given she had no other way of telling him about it and she was clear on the far side of the country from him.

“So, Cliff...”

He cleared his throat and there was a gentle rustling noise on his end but he never said anything.

“I want you to trust me,” she begged him.

“I'll trust you when you trust me,” he retorted.

“Cliff—”

“Sam, if you want the same thing from me,” he said, “I expect the same from you. Now do you trust me?”

She held still with the phone held up to her ear. She pursed her lips together and she recalled what Joey had told her. It made sense for her to let it die in the cold snows outside but she also wanted to be right. But then again, if she told Cliff the truth, she could figure it out from that point onward.

“I do,” she said in a soft voice. He let out a gentle little sigh over the mouth piece. Sam closed her eyes and she shifted her weight in the spot. She knew that the spare change put into that phone was going to run out soon enough, so she had to act right there.

“Now, what about you?” she asked him in a low voice; Joey's curses and some crinkling of paper from behind her caught her attention but only for a moment.

“What're you doing right now?” he returned the favor to her.

“I'm—at a hockey rink in North Syracuse. I'm hanging out with Joey for today. He's just going to buy the both of us breakfast and then demonstrate some hockey moves for me. Completely innocuous things. Just a guy and a girl hanging out together as friends.”

“Sounds good,” Cliff said without a moment's hesitation.

“Wait, you're fine with it?” She was taken aback by that.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” He coughed and sniffled, and then cleared his throat. “Now that the air is cleared between us, we can do stuff without each other. If I can trust you, then I can do whatever I please, and you can, too. That was all I ever wanted.”

Sam closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. She held the phone closer to her ear and the side of her face: she peered behind her, in time to catch Joey on the ice. He had already changed into his jersey as well as his skates, and he put on his goalie mask onto the crown of his head. Right then, he skirted along the edge of the rink with his mask rested atop his head and his hockey stick hoisted across his shoulders as if he carried water someplace. He let his tongue out of his mouth like that of a dog even though it was obvious he hadn't broken out a sweat at that moment.

“So... you gonna see us all on tour?” Cliff asked her, and he cleared his throat yet again. “Not just us in Metallica but Anthrax, too?”

“I hope I can,” she confessed as she never took her eyes off of Joey. “I do sincerely hope I can. My hope is that my schedule for the spring term won't be as loaded as my very first term plus the one I'll have for this upcoming term. If nothing, Marla, Aurora, and I can get in because of our proximity to Anthrax. All of us being friends and everything.”

“Oh, yeah! And we're gonna be all over the Northeast so you can see us whenever you please, baby doll.”

She couldn't resist the smile from crossing her face.

“By the way, what'd you do with that piece of rice paper?” he asked her with a clearing of his throat.

“The one with Alex's rose and scrawl upon it? I put it at the bottom of one of my desk drawers so it's in a safe place. When I had it in my pocket when we had dinner with your parents, I was worried the pencil would fade away before I had a chance to do anything else.”

“Okay, good. You know that was my Christmas present to you. I remembered how enthralled you are by Alex and so I wanted to get something from the kid himself.”

“Thank you,” she told him.

“You are so welcome, and don't worry about me, either. Really, don't worry about it, Sam. Both of our birthdays are coming up anyway.”

“True!”

“Now, you go eat and go see what Joey's doing. I've gotta call Lars about something important. Pressing matters to attend.”

“Okay.” She let out a long low whistle and she was about to close it out when Cliff piped up again.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” he said in a low, almost husky voice.

“I love you, too,” she replied in a near whisper, even though Joey was clear on the far side of the rink.

“Alright. Talk to you later, baby doll.” And they hung up at the same time. A soft clinking noise at the coin slot caught her attention and, using two fingers, she took the dime and the nickel out of there. She then turned her attention to Joey, who glided up to the rail before her with an inquisitive look upon his face.

“So how'd it go?” he asked her as she approached him with the change in her hand, to which he waved it off. “No, no. Keep it. You deserve it far more than I do.”

“We patched up and he asked me if I'm gonna see all of you guys when you go on tour this March.”

“Will you?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I'll try.”

“By the way, I got you two Boston crème donuts because why the hell not? It's over there in that paper sack on the bench behind you.”

“You just want me to gain more weight,” she scoffed.

“You look good! And they had two left so I decided why the hell not.”

She chuckled and then he bowed away from the railing with the stick in hand.

“Let's never fade away, dear Sam I am,” Joey called out and his nasally voice echoed throughout the rink. “It's a brand new year!” he sang with a gentle little vibrato to his voice. Sam doubled back to the bench to the little brown paper sack that awaited her. Indeed, there was his croissant sandwich as well as a pair of Boston crème donuts wrapped in white tissue paper.

“It's a brand new year, live and let live!” Joey kept going as the blades of the skates ground against the ice.

“Live and let live,” Sam echoed as she picked out the first of the donuts, all for herself, much like how Cliff was all for herself at that point.

[tbehartoo]

200 Follower Thank you

Once upon a time, I said hey I’m about to have 200 followers. That’s 199 more followers than I ever expected to have. Maybe I should show these people some appreciation for following my hodgepodge of a blog? I asked what would be considered a good Thank you and received a whopping one (1) reply to the possibilities I mentioned. This is a result of that poll. Please note: I will NEVER volunteer to do this again!

200 Head Canons from the various fandoms I’ve written fan fic for (Fairy Tail, Miraculous Ladybug, and Voltron: Legendary Defenders). Please note these are made up things from my very tired brain and not necessarily thought through or even complete ideas, though I did try to make them internally consistent there are no guarantees. They might contradict each other and most certainly will contradict canon. Please take everything with a grain of salt, and enjoy!

Erza Scarlet (Fairy Tail)

1-Erza only likes red fruits- strawberries, cherries, raspberries dragon fruit, apples, etc.. But they have to be red in color not other versions of the same kind of fruit. No black cherries, green apples, or the like- she can taste the difference even blindfolded.

2- Erza likes to go stargazing on summer nights, but can’t sit still for watching clouds.

3- Between missions she will occasionally try to write poetry. It does not go well

4- She has never told anyone about the poetry!

5- There is a small part of the space she uses for her requip items that contains the locked box with her writing journals. 

6- Erza and Mira like to go shopping together. The stores tremble in fear when the two are on a campaign to find the perfect outfit. One boutique has had to hire a couple of mercenaries at the door to give the staff sufficient time to brace for impact, whenever they have a sale and the girls are in town.

7- There is a cat colony near Fairy Hills and every single cat knows Erza. They are all feral cats, but they trust Erza to provide calming attention.

8- Two things Erza does in any new place is find the baths and find the gyms. 

9- She likes to go to different gyms to observe new fighting techniques, but she doesn’t like to be recognized so she always goes in disguise.

10- Every time she asks to be taught a new technique, there is one guy (you know that one guy) that feels he needs to mansplain things to her.

11- This man is always handed his ego on a silver platter with a side serving of crow. Sometimes quite painfully.

12- Erza was once invited to an underground gym by a woman she met at the baths. She was so surprised to find it was a group dedicated to learning to fight like the Great Titania. Most of the women had histories of being abused, but had been inspired by the leader of the Fairies to stand up for themselves and get safe. They then worked to make sure that others are safe on the streets of their city and in their homes. Erza actually broke down at learning of their strength and resilience. 

13- The only time she purposefully took off her disguise was for these women to thank them. She then spent the rest of the night helping them train.

14- Erza is demisexual which is why she fell so hard for Jellal as she had a strong connection to him. 

15- She continues to have fond feelings for Jellal, but is no longer romantically or sexually interested in him.

16- Erza doesn’t bother to tell others in her guild about her changed feelings for Jellal which means the girls are always trying to get them alone together whenever he’s in town.

17- Meredy once sneaked a sensory link between Erza and Jellal and herself to figure out what was going on with them. She never told anyone what she found out, but she worked at toning down the FT girls’ attempts at matchmaking. 

18- Erza works really hard to keep her strength in check. She has trained with Guildarts to get her control as finely tuned as it is.

19- Erza has yet to find a mode of transportation that is fast enough for her. It’s a pity that Magnolia doesn’t have jet propulsion or rockets.

20- Her favorite hot drink is cinnamon tea with a little sweetened condensed milk in it.

Lucy Heartfilia (Fairy Tail)

1- Lucy prefers the feel of cotton over silk, but she prefers the look of silk over cotton.

2- She has to invest in cotton, linen and woolen clothing as a member of Team Natsu since they don’t burn as easily as other materials.

3- Lucy has asked Levy to look for a fire retardant/ fire proofing spell to be able to use for both her clothing and her apartment.

4- Lucy was taught to crochet when she was a young girl. Though she doesn’t make the fine lace she was expected to produce as a child, she does use those skills to make tiny amigurumi mice for Happy.

5- Lucy also crochets scarves and hats every autumn for her friends. Often she makes a couple extra ones to donate to the local women’s shelter.

6- Aires likes to bring Lucy wool like thread/yarn from the spirit world for her to use in her projects.

7- Lucy likes to go fishing with Natsu and Happy.

8- She does not like catching fish with Natsu and Happy.

She like casting her rod and reeling it in, but she does NOT like baiting her hook or killing the fish. Natsu and Happy have no problems taking care of those things for her.

9- Lucy prefers moving rivers and creeks over still ponds and lakes.

10- She loves going to the beach to watch the waves break along the shore.

11- Lucy was taught how to steer a boat, well it was a yacht but why quibble over details?

12- She once claimed she was going to sail around the globe, but her father told her not to talk nonsense and then sold their boat to keep her from ever trying.

13- Lucy made friends with the birds in the garden and can whistle their calls almost as well as the birds themselves.

14- Lucy has always told herself stories. Even when she’s on a job with Team Natsu she’s often composing short stories as her day goes along.

15- Lucy hates the taste of truffle and will instantly distrust anyone who claims to like it.

16- She prefers to have short hair, but keeps hers long to be able to use the comb and brush set her mother used to use.

17- Lucy has two special silver hair pins that her mother gave her when she twelve. They belonged to her grandmother and her great-great-aunt. They get passed down to the next generation on the twelfth year after they have sparked. They always end up with a celestial mage.

18- Lucy’s understanding of celestial contracts is both modern and archaic. She is well aware of what is expected from a modern magic user, but she has been well taught in the lore of celestial beings. 

19- Most celestial spirits are pretty plain speaking with what they will, can, or won’t do. Some however, the eldest spirits, are very tricky and will find whatever loopholes through imprecise language they can to do what they can to be maliciously compliant. This is why, even though the elder spirits are more powerful than most of their siblings, they are rarely contracted with.

20- Lucy eventually has five contracts with elder Celestial Spirits. None of them have been able to twist out of their responsibilities to her.

Natsu Dragneel (Fairy Tail)

1- Natsu only flies off the handle so easily so that he has “legitimate” reasons for using his fire.

2- He has to eat a lot to have enough fuel for his fire.

3- He really just likes to eat and uses his fire so often so that he has room to eat more.

4- Natsu often lies awake at night trying to come up with good insults for Gray, Gajeel, and even Loki, though he rarely remembers them thus having to fall back on old and well used insults.

5- When Natsu does remember a new insult, he will rate the reaction on a scale of one to five and if it doesn’t get a four or a five he will drop using it.

6- One time he said something about Levy to Gajeel that was rated a ten and after he healed up, he never used that particular insult again.

7- Because of the sheer amount of energy that routinely flows through Natsu, he has a faster healing rate than most people, including dragon slayers, except Wendy. Wendy’s magic makes her quick to heal so that she can heal others.

8- Natsu has several potted succulents that he and Happy take care of whenever they are in town. 

9- Natsu talks to his plants and has named each one.

10- One time a new neighbor overwatered his plants while Natsu was ot of town, killing all of the plants.

11- The new neighbor was mortified and offered to buy replacements, but Natsu was offended. You don’t buy FAMILY MEMBERS they are FOUND!

12- Natsu and Happy took nothing but desert and costal assignments for a year to find new plants for their place. They even took a few over to the neighbor to teach them how to care for the very laid back plants.

13- Natsu isn’t dumb, he’s just simple. No need to be all stealthy when you can just flame broil a problem. Right?

14- Natsu likes to come in Lucy’s apartment through the window because she’s always good for a laugh when he does it.

15- Happy, and Natsu, likes to stay the night at Lucy’s place because she will read them a bedtime story.

16- Natsu’s favorite stories are about the constellations and the heroes that got put into the stars.

17- Happy’s favorite stories are about animals acting like humans, and who like to eat a lot. (Basically he likes Redwall stories, just those from Earthland)

18- Natsu hates the Pied Piper story because the kids didn’t help their lame friend go with them and Happy hates it because he scared all the rats away. Somehow the book with that story in it mysteriously burned to a crisp.

19- Natsu doesn’t have a favorite color. It changes every time someone asks.

20- When Natsu is really stressed Happy will curl up in his lap and start purring. When Happy is stressed, Natsu will raise his body temperature slightly and then hold Happy close until Happy feels like he can purr again.

Gray Fullbuster (Fairy Tail)

1- Gray doesn’t like the feel of most of his clothes touching his skin.

2- He only likes the feeling of heavy clothes touching him. Lightweight clothes bug him.

3- Gray prefers to take jobs that take him up in the mountains because it’s cooler there, and there tend to be less people he has to deal with.

4- Gray’s favorite place to vacation is the beach in the summer, but otherwise he prefers foothills in the spring for all their blooms, mountain slopes in the winter for the ice and snow, and mountain valleys in the autumn for the color change of the leaves.

5- While ice and snow don’t bother Gray, and even charge up his magic, he still prefers to come in and sit in front of a toasty fire with a warm beverage after being out in the snow.

6- One reason Gray doesn’t object to Natsu being around and being annoying is because he always has that portable space heater thing going after being cold when Natsu is around.

7- Gray experiments with poetry when he travels on his own. He never writes any of it down.

8- Gray is obscenely good with numbers and logic puzzles.

9- He’s been banned from many gambling establishments for exposing their crooked practices, even the ones that usually go unnoticed.

10- Gray kind of assumes that other people also see what he sees and doesn’t understand why he’s expected to spell everything out for the rest of Team Natsu.

11- Gray is slow to warm up to people. He’s been let down before, so once he considers you a his friend, he’s your friend for life.

12- People that really know Gray were surprised at how quickly he befriended Lucy. With most people Gray takes at least a year to even start acknowledging their existence.

13- Gray thinks Lucy is like a little sister that needs careful watching up until Tenrou.

14- After Tenrou, Gray thinks of Lucy as an equal that can and will kick his butt if he needs it.

15- Gray is not afraid of Erza, unless Natsu is involved.

16- Gray was once emotionally and verbally abused by a girlfriend, it’s what makes Juvia’s first behavior and love declarations so uncomfortable for him.

17- Gray will never admit that he’s jealous of Natsu and Gajeel’s exceed companions. But he does want to have his own flying cat occasionally.

18- Gray’s least favorite food is egg nog ice cream. He just doesn’t care for the flavor and you couldn’t get him to drink hot egg nog for love or money.

19- Gray’s preferred hot drink is Lapsang souchong tea. He likes the pine flavor in his tea cup.

20- One time Lucy, Erza, and Wendy invited Gray to accompany them to a fancy Hotel for afternoon tea. It was the only time he willingly wore a three piece suit!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug)

1- Marinette likes to make lots of different kinds of pastries.

2- She only likes to actually eat a few types of pastry.

3- There are baked goods that she makes, but never eats because the textures give her the heebie jeebies. She knows other people love them so she’ll still make them.

4- Sabine, Marinette’s mom, was a martial artist of Chāquán. It is “a Chinese martial art that features graceful movements and some acrobatic aerial maneuvers. Chāquán also includes a large range of weapons.” Sabine was especially proficient in the use of the hookswords and the spear, which she has taught Marinette.

5- Sabine still goes over her forms every morning and young Marinette practices with her.

6- Marinette was fairly good at the acrobatic maneuvers until she hit puberty. Her mother often reassures Marinette that after she finishes her growth spurts she’ll be back to doing those moves again without messing up every third one.

7- Even though her father is an only child Marinette has dozens of “uncles” from around the world. Tom played on a rugby team in college and even was in the minor league for awhile. All of his team mates were made honorary uncles when Marinette was born. They get dozens of Christmas cards, letters, and emails to keep in touch.  

8- Marinette and Tom once did a tour of Europe only staying with his old teammates. They never had to find a hotel during the two weeks they traveled. They’ve had a fair few of them stay at their place in Paris, too.

9- Marinette often makes presents for her uncles, aunties, and cousins throughout the year, and receives small presents from them as well.

10- She was saving up for a trip to Australia and New Zealand for her sixteenth birthday, so that her family could visit with a couple of uncles in that part of the world, but suddenly Hawkmoth came up and now she’s not sure they will ever take that trip. 

11- She mentioned Chat Noir and Ladybug in an email to one of her ‘cousins’ in New Zealand who hadn’t heard of them, so she linked them to Alya’s Ladyblog telling her that this was really going on in Paris.

12- Two weeks later she got a video from them asking Mari to pass it along to Ladybug and Chat Noir. It showed their family and all their neighbors doing a haka for Paris and the heroes. They said it was to encourage the heroes to be strong and have courage in the face of Hawkmoth.

13- Mari cried when she saw the video as she knew what a big deal it was for them to do this for her. She asked for a translation of the words and was surprised to find it was actually written by her cousin’s grandfather, who was considered a great warrior chief, specifically for LB and CN.

14- Mari asked if only someone from her cousin’s tribe could perform that haka or if it would be considered appropriation for her and her friends to do it, too. She received another video that was an interview with the man who wrote it. He explained the tradition, the words, and showed exactly how each part should be performed. Then he gave all of Paris his blessing to do his haka for the heroes.

15- Marinette brought Alya over right away and showed her the videos. Alya promised to put both videos up right away. The traffic shut down the blog host’s servers!

16- Marinette invited this cousin’s family to visit during the summer to thank them for all that they did. During their visit an akuma attack happened. This family was delighted to suddenly have Ladybug calling the city to order and joining in as all across the capital young and old were preparing to dance strength and courage into being.

17- Marinette has noticed that her strength to stand up to Hawkmoth and perform her duties as Ladybug has increased dramatically ever since she, and the rest of Paris, has started doing the special haka.

18- Marinette likes to put youtube on autoplay and start on a random video when she’s trying to come up with a design and feels blocked. She stops it on the third and seventh video and then tries to come up with a design based on the video’s title.

19- Marinette has just started trying out needle felting and loves to make little felt mice for the animal shelter Chat Noir has endorsed.

20- Marinette has become the vice-president of the Chat Noir fan club at Francois- Dupont. Nino is the president.

Plagg and Tikki (Miraculous Ladybug)

1- Plagg watches  a video of camembert making on loop whenever he can get Adrien’s phone. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=atOpLj-q5nA) [People in the comments are seriously convinced that Plagg would like this video!] 

2- Tikki likes to watch crafting videos and always makes sure to leave an encouraging comment on each one she watches.

3- Tikki prefers sweet things to eat, but she can recharge on almost any food. 

4- Plagg actually needs those fermented, slightly spoiled foods to recharge completely otherwise he’s acting on about half power.

5- Plagg wanted to explore Adrien’s house more, but Gabriel’s interest in Adrien’s ring has made him stick close to his boy.

6- Plagg spent the first month of being awake getting familiar with current events using Adrien’s phone. The invention of the computer has made him ridiculously happy.

7- Plagg may or may not have had something to do with a computer virus that infected the mansion’s protection protocol after Gabriel was akumatized. Now Adrien can get out of his room an time lockdown is initiated and doesn’t have to feel trapped in his room.

8- Tikki doesn’t sleep as much as Marinette does. She gets about an hour a night.

9- Tikki emits strong “sleep rays” when she sleeps to help her holders get to sleep. Her creative types can be overthinkers that need help dropping off. 

10- Tikki doesn’t need to sleep. Whenever creation is happening she is energized and really doesn’t need to rest. She’s the originator of “pulling an all nighter”

11- Tikki tends to get a surge of power at the equinoxes while Plagg receives more power at the solstices.

12- Tikki loved coming across this video of The HU and plays it as often as she can. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jM8dCGIm6yc

13- Plagg found out about punk rock and now plays it as Adrien sleeps hoping that the messages of the music makes through that thick layer of “presentability” Gabriel has forced on Adrien. 

14- Tikki sometimes leaves Marinette’s purse to flit over and peek at Nathaniel’s progress on his drawings if the lesson is boring.

15- Plagg’s hearing is very sharp and his ears let him tune into conversations without moving much. He is careful to check into the class gossip, but also listens in to what’s happening in Mr. Damocles’ office and the teacher lounge.

16- Plagg listened in on Tom and Gorilla’s talking about Marinette and Adrien and snickers whenever he remembers Gorilla saying, “My money’s still on Marinette confessing first. Mine’s to dense to realize how far gone he already is. He might believe she likes him on their golden wedding anniversary.”

17- Even though Plagg can phase through matter he still has a healthy respect for Gorilla’s brute strength and doesn’t want to test if he’d be quick enough to dodge the big man in the even of an emergency.

18- Tikki spends many nights creating pictures of fractals using Marinette’s digital drawing tools.

19- Tikki may or may not be the cause of Marinette having more advanced capabilities digitally than any major studio on earth.

20- Tikki despises the nickname Sugarcube, but it is the best out of Plagg many, many tries so she puts up with it. Stinky Sock is the mildest nick name Tikki has ever called Plagg. 

20.B- Most of her other names for him would be considered unprintable, but they’re in dead languages so it’s probably safe for her to use them. 

20.C- Plagg tries not to mess up so badly that she uses the Babylonian curse on him.

20.D- Plagg can tell how angry Tikki is by what language she slips into. The older the language is, the more angry Tikki is.

Nino Lahiffe (Miraculous Ladybug)

1- Nino used to play percussion on everything he ever came in contact with until his uncle brought over a small hand drum for him to play. His parents called it ‘tapping’ when he was little.

2- The rule around the house was that he could only tap on the drum and not other parts of the house, when he was inside. Everything outside of the house was fair game.

3- Nino’s uncle came over every day to teach him the basics of playing his doumbek.

4- After a year of lessons, his uncle would take him to his weekly drum group where the more experienced drummers would teach little Nino drum tricks like rolls and pops.

5- By the time Nino was eight, he was a regular member of the drumming group and often went with them to play at weddings, parties, or other events. He was the cutest kid! When he was all decked out in traditional Moroccan garb playing smoking hot solos, he was often the source of viral videos.

6- In school he tried to join the band, but he was far too advanced for the beginning players and they didn’t have an advanced group for him to join.

7- The band teacher wanted to help him continue with his music so he showed Nino how to record and remix his own drumming.

8- The summer after that, he spent every day busking with a different member of the drum group to be able to afford his own recording equipment and programs.

9- The summer music money plus his share of the money for playing events with the drum group allowed him to be able to turn his room into basically a recording studio.

10- He soon became the group’s recorder which led to him also video taping performances.

11- The year before Stoneheart happens, the art teacher was able to teach Nino some basic film editing.

12- Nino’s tapping was one way for him to relieve his anxiety, the other way he tries to release it is through blowing bubbles as a kind of meditation.

13- It was hard for him to use his bubbles again after the Bubbler incident.

14- When Alya and Nino got locked in the cage at the zoo, it took all of ten seconds for Alya to figure out he didn’t actually have a crush on her. It took fifteen seconds for her to figure out it was Marinette he’d liked. He was really embarrassed about it.

15- However, after talking a lot about things they liked and disliked they found they really had a lot in common. Alya told Nino about Marinette’s crush on Adrien and Nino was upset for a moment, but then Alya made him laugh and he was suddenly thinking, “Marinette who?”

16- By the time they were out of the cage Nino was firmly in Alya’s corner for matchmaking Marinette with his friend Adrien.

17- Nino’s anxiety can get high during an akuma attack, unless he has someone to watch out for or protect, then he’s calm and collected. Which makes running after Alya toward the big scary monster the better choice for him during those moments. 

18- Nino was a natural at wielding the Turtle Miraculous as it played to his need to protect.

19- After being Carapace, battles in which he wasn’t called to be a protector of Paris were excruciating to watch even as he kept Alya from coming to harm. He craved using the Miraculous as it allowed him to care for more people at once.

20- Nino introduced Wayzz to both smooth jazz and rap music just to see what the kwami would do. He loved everything Nino threw at him! Wayzz requested a copy of Nino’s latest mixes and a song by Sade before he had to go back to the Guardian. Nino found an old iPod to give to the little godling who claimed it would be his most precious treasure. Nino couldn’t talk for a full five minutes as he was too embarrassed and proud to speak.

M. Gorilla (Miraculous Ladybug)

1- Gorilla and Tom played Rugby on the same team in college.

2- He often stops by the bakery after dropping Adrien off at school if he isn’t needed by M. Agreste immediately.

3- He’s convinced that Adrien is in love with Marinette, as are Tom and Sabine. It’s a topic of great interest and much discussion when he comes in, if there aren’t other customers around. Sabine and Gorilla have a bet on who will confess their feelings first. (Sabine’s money is on Adrien.)

4- Tom and Gorilla met their future spouses as they acted as bouncers at a local club on weekends all thorough their Junior and Senior years at university.

5- Sabine and Gorilla’s significant other, Jerome, were in a group of friends that frequented the night club regularly. Sabine dared her friend to get the cute bouncer’s phone number by the end of the night. After a few shots of liquid courage, he’d brazenly asked Tom for a date and his number, but Tom gently, and privately, told the young man he was straight. He then motioned for Gorilla to come over and introduced the two. The young man returned to the bar with two phone numbers: Gorilla’s for him and Tom’s for Sabine. 

6- Tom made the cake for Gorilla’s commitment ceremony, before same-sex marriage was legal in France. When Marinette was ten, he also made the wedding cake for Gorilla when he and Jerome were legally able to be married.

7- Jerome had a child from a previous relationship that he and Gorilla took care of for the first five years of the girl’s life. She was taken away when the girl’s mother claimed that Jerome wasn’t the father of the child. DNA tests proved he wasn’t. The mother tried to sue another man for child support, then took the girl and moved to another country.

8- Gorilla and Jerome were distraught to have their little girl taken from them. They tried to adopt another child, but they were denied and not even allowed to foster any children.  

9- Gorilla started working for the Agreste family shortly after he lost his daughter.

10- Emilie saw how angry he was over anyone that wasn’t an Agreste coming near Adrien and eventually got the story out of him over why he’d be so protective to keep people from potentially taking her son away. It was something she was very appreciative over. Gorilla considered her a friend after she went out of her way to find out about his heartbreak.

11- Gorilla is legally Adrien’s godfather. When Emilie heard what that woman had done to Gorilla she took Gorilla and Adrien to her lawyer and made Gorilla legally responsible for Adrien and any future children she may have regardless of his continuing employment by the Agreste family. Gabriel signed the papers without complaint, but didn’t actually read them carefully, or register exactly what he was signing..  

12- Gorilla worked for the DGSI, the French CIA, as an informant while playing rugby. It allowed him to travel for legitimate reasons and keep tabs on one of the players for the DGSI.

13- After university, Gorilla was recruited to become an agent. He was injured on an assignment and decided to retire to be an up and coming rocker’s body guard.

14- He and Jerome get invited backstage any time Jagged is in town to be able to catch up.

15- Gorilla really enjoyed doing his job as a bodyguard, but wanted to be home more with Jerome, especially after their little Marie was taken from them.

16- The DGSI came to Gorilla to ask if he’d be interested in working for them again as they look into the workings of one Gabriel Agreste and the Gabriel empire.

17- Gorilla was actually key in getting Nathalie in the door at Gabriel. She is also an informant gathering evidence on Gabriel Agreste.

18- Gorilla was speechless when their higher ups requested that he and Nathalie continue to aide Gabriel once he became a magical terrorist, they were interested in seeing the power of the moth Miraculous and what it could do. Nathalie complied willingly, but Gorilla refused to do anything that would put Adrien in trouble.

19- Gorilla despaired of Adrien ever figuring out how to give him the slip, and he was so proud when Adrien succeeded at eluding his tailing him through the Metro. Then he panicked because he just lost his child!

20- Gorilla is fully aware that Adrien is Chat Noir. He was the one to change the angle of the security cameras, and conveniently show Adrien their blind spot right outside his window. (Seriously, that boy needs all the help he can get.)

Pidge Gunderson/Katie Holt (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

1- Katie was introduced to Pokemon when she was very young.

2-For awhile all she managed to find were Pidgeys in her game. And she collected every one she could.

3- Matt laughed at her for this and nicknamed her “Pidge”.

4- Katie didn’t like his teasing and vowed to make her pidgeys the strongest she could to beat Matt’s team.

5- She eventually fulfilled that vow.

6- Later Pidge went on to collect and evolve almost every pokemon in the pokedex.

7- Matt never recovered from being beaten by a flock of pidgeot, and has refused to pick up the game ever since that time. Pidge considered that her greatest accomplishment until she infiltrated the Garrison.

8- Katie has loved robots ever since she watched the Iron Giant movie with her dad.

9- Katie first started building robots when she got a MeccaSpider Robot Kit for her sixth birthday. 

10- She was dissatisfied with how klunky the spider turned out to be and proceeded to borrow a few parts from something of Matt’s to make it work better. It’s ability to move as quickly and silently as a spider was not appreciated by all the inhabitants of her home. 

11- Katie has never grown out of her ability to see other uses for mechanical parts past their intended use, or for cannibalizing parts from anywhere she can get them.

12- While Katie likes to build robots, what she really adores is programming them. She hopes someday to make a small robot that can serve to help the physically disabled with everyday tasks.

13- Seeing her mother’s father struggle after he fell and broke his hip was what has spurred Katie on in her endeavor to build helper robots.

14- For all the squabbling and tattling that she and Matt engaged in, they were very good friends. When he left for the Garrison, and had to stay there, Katie cried every night for a month.

15- Katie hates to be in the middle of drama, but she loves to watch it unfold. She has been guilty of bringing snacks to watch Lance confront someone about a perceived slight.

16- Katie is a multishipper of fictional characters. When Hunk asked if she shipped Lance with any of the other cadets at the Garrison, she read him the riot act for shipping “real people”.

17- Pidge faked a crush for a whole week while in the Garrison when Lance wouldn’t stop pestering her about it. Then the female cadet showed up with a girlfriend and Lance tried to console Pidge about not having a shot since her “crush” was into girls. Pidge didn’t know how to feel about the entire situation and started telling Lance to “Zip it!” whenever he started up about Pidge needing a girlfriend.

18- Pidge finds the idea of “love at first sight” baffling and illogical, unless it’s a sweet piece of tech. Then she totally gets it. Her idea of a “sweet piece of tech” is not the same as Lance’s, but Hunk gets her.

19- Pidge is curious about everything! She likes to tinker with things to find out how they work as well as read about discoveries others have made.

20- Pidge finds sociology fascinating. People and cultures can be hard to understand, robots are nicer that way, but once she gets to meet so many other sentient beings, see their environments, and how they adapt to them- she thinks they are almost as awesome as the robots.

Hunk (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

1- Hunk’s grandmother (his father’s mother) was a chef at an upscale hotel. She’s the one that gave him his first lessons in cooking, knife skills, and developing one’s palate.

2- Hunk’s grandfather (his father’s father) was a fisherman who demonstrated traditional fishing techniques at their island’s living history museum three times a week once he’d retired. There was always plenty of fish to go around on those days.

3- Hunk’s other grandfather (his mother’s father) was an electrical engineer and worked for the county as lead engineer. He often had little models of circuits and old mother boards that he let Hunk tinker with and program.

4- His other grandmother (his mother’s mother) was the designated worrier of the family. She also had a lush garden that she tended daily. It was full of strange plants that often bore unusual fruits for the family to eat. 

5- Hunk learned to combine the strange fruits with the kitchen skills he had to make things his younger siblings would eat. Not every experiment turned out well, but he always tried to analyze what went wrong and strategize a better plan to execute his vision for the star ingredient.  

6- Hunk and his cousins often had “Bake offs” when they went to TiTi’s house for sleep overs. Hunk usually lost as baking was not his forte.

7- When he and his cousins did their own version of “Chopped” then Hunk usually won hands down. Especially when given a strange basket of ingredients to work with.

8- Hunk is highly anxious but working in the kitchen helps to calm him down. The rules for cooking are simple and there are few surprises he’s not prepared to deal with.

9- Hunk uses his cell phone to ease his anxiety about things in the kitchen. He always takes a photo with a time stamp when he leaves the kitchen. Also he has remote access to all appliances with alerts to let him know when everything is being used.

10- Hunk has installed cameras and view screens on every major appliance in his family’s homes so that if he starts to worry about them, he can check his phone to see what their status is.

11- The first time Hunk left something on in the Castle he realized he’d need to come up with the same kind of thing so he wouldn’t worry while on a mission.

12- The Castle had no clue what Hunk was doing, but eventually allowed Hunk and Pidge to install primitive sensors in the kitchen appliances (and the garbage disposal for some reason) but absolutely refused to allow remote activation of anything. Hunk had to be content with that.

13- Hunk has difficulty standing up for himself, but his anxiety has “Protective Mom” override mode. He will absolutely end someone messing with his friend or family member.

14- Hunk’s favorite color isn’t yellow, it’s orange. However he was drawn to the Yellow Lion because they both want to protect their friends and family.

15- The first night Hunk spent in the Castle of Lions he made sure to lock the door then proceeded to do a traditional siva tau in memory of his family whom he never expected to see again.

16- Hunk has composed a special siva tau that includes some of the people and places he’s been. It offers each of them encouragement to be strong, to trust in the goodness of others, and realize that they are not alone in the universe.

17- Hunk has performed his siva tau on only three occasions. Each time it was at the request of Allura for other groups that had lost their home planets. After each performance Hunk would have several people ask if he would teach them the dance.

18- After the defeat of the Galra, Hunk composed a second siva tau to celebrate the victory and also to mourn those who were lost to the conflict.

19- On the anniversary of this moment Hunk, his family, and any Paladin that is near will gather to celebrate. The evening always closes with the bon fire being stoked up and a performance of that second siva tau. 

20- At Hunk’s death there was a large crowd full of many species that honored his family and expressed their grief at his passing by performing Hunk’s first siva tau. It was said that the earth trembled as each foot/appendage touched down and the skies carried the sound of their voices all around the globe.  

[philjacobsen-blog]

Antarctica. How I learned to stop worrying and love the isolation.

I put on my gloves and face mask like I had done every day for the past six months. I wanted to protect myself, be safe and I wanted to be healthy. No, I wasn’t a prepper preparing for the end of the world and/or the coronavirus, I lived in Antarctica.

From 2002 to 2018, I spent over six years of my life working and living in Antarctica. Math might tell you that looks like “16 years,” but Antarctica works on a different schedule.

Scientists and contract laborers (like myself) have been limited to work a maximum of 14 months straight in Antarctica. Because, after 14 months of isolation, it has been said, “You might lose your mind.” Therefore, four weeks, six weeks, or eight weeks of coronavirus quarantine is like a walk on the frozen ocean.

Everyone loves Top 10 lists, but first, here is the background of life in Antarctica.

There are two different seasons in Antarctica: summer and Winter. For the laymen, that’s when it’s light 24 hours a day (summer) and then when it’s dark 24 hours a night (Winter). It’s not by accident that “Winter” is capitalized and “summer” is in lowercase. This is because you need to respect Winter.

I have spent four Winters in Antarctica. While there have been changes to the Winter schedule, when I Wintered in Antarctica at McMurdo Station, the largest of the three American bases on the 7th Continent, a plane with all of our friends, hopes, dreams and escape plans left in February. The next time we would see the lights of a plane in the sky would be in August.

In other words, shit got real when that last plane left. We had to trust we had enough food, talent and toilet paper to last us until the end of August. This is because, as the saying goes, “If we don’t have it, then you don’t need it. And, you don’t need it, because we don’t have it.”

If you run out of chicken, then you eat pork. When you run out of pork, you eat lamb, when you run out of lamb, you eat hamsters--hamsters are, what we called, microwavable breaded (or deep fried) ham and cheese Hot Pockets™®.

In other words, the grocery stores are open; quit panicking. When you’re outside, hoping your squirrel trap has been bountiful today, this is the time to panic. However, today, it’s not minus 45 degrees outside. Walmart will be restocked soon, put on your mask and gloves and purchase only what you need. Then go home.

And, if Walmart is out of toilet paper, hook a garden hose to your faucet and clean your ass, and be happy your water supply doesn’t give you frostbite.

It’s going to be fine.

In Antarctica, we were living like it was Gilligan’s Island, “No phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury.” The only difference was we had phones, lights and motorcars, but when we went outside it was minus 45 –degrees—not a luxury. Stay inside on your couch and be happy that when you do go outside to take out the trash, walk the dog or mow your lawn, you’re not getting third degree frostbite and having your toes cut off.

This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy watches Netflix. This little piggy stays home.

Speaking of movies and TV shows, my good God, we would have loved to have had Netflix, bootlegged versions of Game of Thrones, YouTube or Facebook in Antarctica. Instead, the entirety of McMurdo’s bandwidth is mostly for Science.

Rarely could I “LOL” with my friends on Facebook or “YOLO” with spring breakers at the beach. Nope, Science is the priority in Antarctica.

Science, I tell you. A bunch of people, who we called “Beakers,” is the entire reason McMurdo Station exists. These Scientist are in Antarctica to prove or disprove Global Warming and/or can penguins fly and/or are penguins cute. Generally, they proved it, but why listen to scientists?

Scientists went to school and studied stuff, but have they ever studied the “economy” or “Facebook?” Can you imagine an entire community who listens to scientists? Oh wait, you can? Possibly because we’re in a global pandemic? Yeah, listen to scientists?

During my Winters in Antarctica, I could go days and only see the one person who I worked with, and guess what? I hated him.

In the community, we called him “Skin Suit.” This was his nickname because, even though he passed his battery of psychological examinations, which are required in order to Winter-Over in Antarctica, he said to Suzy—a la “Silence of the Lambs.”

“I wish I could wear your skin, so I could touch you all day.”

So, there I was, working at the bottom of the world, with Jame “Buffalo Bill” Gume as my coworker for six months, in total darkness, and do you want to know how I got along with him (aside from the one time I threw hot coffee in his face)? I complimented his outfits. I tried to look for the positive in the people who surround me.

My first job in Antarctica, I was a dishwasher. I left my home, friends and a girlfriend to seek this adventure. I’m still happy with two out of three of those decisions.

The first year I spent in Antarctica there was a “Dishwasher Emergency” at the South Pole (850 miles from the sea level solitude of McMurdo). Just like we need grocery store employees, drive through food and universal health care, the South Pole needed a dishwasher—and they chose me.

The South Pole is located at 9,301 feet above sea level. That’s not very high. When I live my life in my hometown of Salt Lake City, I live at 4,327 feet above sea level. I have climbed high mountains in Utah, like Mt. Timpanogos that is 11,752 feet and Mt. Nebo that is 11,928 ft. I’m not healthy, but I’m also not fat.

When I was asked to work at the “high altitude” of 9,301 feet of the South Pole, I said, “Okay. I’ve done that.”

However, what I didn’t know, was that because the South Pole is at “The South Fucking Pole” it’s not just about the altitude. The South Pole has a variance of altitude because of the Earth’s centrifugal force which makes the South Pole seem much higher than the actual 9,301 feet. At times it can feel, because of lack of oxygen, as though you are over 12 or 13 thousand feet.

Before going to the South Pole, the doctors and scientists said I should take “prophylactic acetazolamide” to combat the feelings of high altitude sickness. However, my friend Donald said, “You’ll be ‘okay.’” He said that since he was from Colorado and I was from Utah, that I would be fine, because I was “use to the high altitude.”

I was at the South Pole for eight days. I quit taking prophylactic acetazolamide on day four, because I was feeling great. I listened to Donald.

On day eight, I nearly died. This wasn’t Utah. Because I’d lived at sea level for four months at McMurdo Station, and Donald didn’t know shit, my pulse oximeter (the amount of oxygen which should be in my blood and close to 100) was 52. I was failing breathing.

Pulmonary edema cut the oxygen supply to my brain making me think 3 + 7 = Cat. The South Pole doctor said, “Phil, you are two to four hours from death.”

All flights to the South Pole were canceled on this day, due to weather, but, due to “2 to 4 hours of death,” a C130 National Guard Airplane risked their lives and flew from McMurdo Station to rescue me at the South Pole. If not for universal Antarctica Health Care, I could be dead.

On this day, I learned I needed to listen to the scientists, and not to Donald.

This story ended up being too long. I’m sorry. I’ve lived through isolation, listened to friends, instead of the medical community, and somehow I’m still alive. How did Antarctica prepare me for the isolation of the coronavirus?

1: Do something today better than you did yesterday. Did you go to bed sooner? Wake up earlier? Brush your cat?

2: Exercise. In Antarctica my exercise routine was called, “Brushing the Dust Off of David.” There is no reason to take a hammer and chisel to David. All you need to do is to take a wet cloth and brush off the dust. Do 10 sit ups, pushups, or jog in place. Be happy with who you are, and barely maintain. If you set higher expectations, you might fail. Simply, brush the dust off of your personal David.

3: Do something better today than you did yesterday. There were many times in Antarctica I got more drunk on Friday than I did on Thursday. I’m not advocating alcoholism, but lower your expectations. Don’t look for perfection when a glass of wine might do.

4: Did you make your bed after you woke up? Some days you will go to bed and your biggest accomplishment will be, “I made that bed today.” Congratulations.

5: Groundhog Day. Every day may seem like yesterday, but, how did you make it different? In Antarctica, after six months of Winter the trash shelves are lined with “Learn ‘This Language’ in 30 Days” DVDs. Nobody accomplishes a lot during the isolation of Winter. But, if we do little, then that is a lot.

6: Communication. Does your phone work? In Antarctica, no one can call us, so we have to call out. Instead of waiting for ‘that phone call.’ Make it.

7: Don’t go outside. It’s too cold. In the Covid-19 case, it’s too dangerous. My dad goes to dialysis three times a week; please don’t kill him. Don’t go outside.

8: Appreciate your pets. In Antarctica we are not allowed to have pets. I started the “Antarctica Cat Club.” All we did was share photos of our cats from home that we wished to be with. Now, we get to live a cat’s life. Nap. Eat. Shit. Nap. Clean. Nap. Eat. Repeat.

Love your pets you lucky sons of bitches.

9: Art. Be creative. Rather you’re by yourself or preferably, with only yourself. Do something artistic. For instance, today, I chose to write this Manifesto. In Antarctica a group of us recreated the (drunk) history of the race to South Pole by Roald Amundsen and Robert Scott (https://vimeo.com/35084075). What will you or your isolated group create?

10: Know that it ends. A plane will come and take you away or scientists will tell you it’s safe to go outside. And then, it’s over. You take off your mask and gloves. You shop at a grocery store, you go to a movie, you hug your parents or, you love being able to hold those who you love.

Stay warm. Stay isolated. And, stay indoors.

[theadorablespderman]

Sailing Close to the Wind

This is dedicated to the anon who requested a fic off of the prompt list I posted a while ago. The prompt was #18 for the angst list: “Leave! Me! Alone!” thank you all for being amazing and thanks to the anon for requesting this fic! it was so much fun to write. I hope you guys like it!

(not beta read so any mistakes are mine) 

***************************************************

Rating: M (due to implied sexual content)

Peter/Michelle

Summery:

Leave 

          Please

Me

          Don’t

Alone

          Go

***************************************************

"Pieces of shit! Leave! Me! Alone!" The roar cut up her throat, taking the air from her lungs. Michelle wrenched off the pocket-watch hanging by a rusted nail from her apartment door. She pitched it at the ground before promptly stomping on the watch face. The crunch of metal and glass under the pressure of her boot satisfied her. Observing the crushed remains of the clock, Michelle growled. This was the third timepiece she found nailed to her apartment door this month. And, her desk at work was teeming with unfulfilled, threatening notes.

She kicked the broken pieces of the watch with vigor. They skidded into a dark corner of the hallway. "Jesus! These assholes are such cowards. All the notes—the creepy phone calls...Jesus, I swear I'd be frightened if they actually followed through with any of their goddamn threats." She tilted her head back, filling the space of the hallway with her voice. Maybe the flickering fluorescent lights were bugged. Maybe they were listening to everything she said. Or, maybe she was just paranoid.

With anger bleaching her flesh, the noxious words were unstoppable.  "You hear that you pieces of shit? Either leave me the hell alone or make good on your promises and— "

A sweaty palm clapped over her mouth, cutting her off. Instinctively, Michelle licked it, tasting salt and the tang of lemon. Peter dropped his hand, grimacing at Michelle's thick saliva. "Are you five years old?" He swiped his hand down his khaki pants, his face screwed up in disgust.

"What's your deal, loser?" The anger leached from Michelle, releasing as carbon dioxide from her lips. She gave Peter a sideways glance while she jammed her key into her door. Maybe he would forget her momentary breakdown if she pretended it didn't happen. If she busied herself with her lock, he might not see how frazzled she felt.

The lock always stuck, so she pushed her shoulder into the door. The watermarked boards groaned under the pressure. In one snap of the wrist, the lock turned over and the door swung open. Another annoying thing about her door. The knob didn't work. She had to keep the door locked to keep it closed. Unjamming the lock always meant she pitched two unsteady steps into her apartment when she walked in.

Stumbling into her minuscule living space, she tossed her keys onto her side table. When she glanced back at Peter, he looked as worn as she did. She wasn't sure how she didn't notice it during dinner. Until she realized the clock set him on edge. The ticking meant to signify the last seconds of her life. He never was present when she received threats. He only ever heard about them after the fact. Now his gaze carried unbridled worry as he scanned the pockmarked ceiling and the peeling wallpaper. Searching.

He was looking for other signs. More bad omens.

With a sigh, she camouflaged herself with indifference and took the few remaining steps to Peter. Michelle swung a hand in front of his face, snapping twice before gaining his attention. "I'll repeat my question. What’s your deal, oh weird one?" She walked back to the door. Slamming it shut, she wedged her shoulder into it, flipping the deadbolt over.

She watched Peter's hands sneak into his pockets, bunching his dress shirt around his wrists. Michelle found the action incredibly attractive for no reason at all. She was a sucker for bare forearms.

Swaying on his feet, Peter finally answered. "You can't say stuff like that." His distracted attention landed on her. Nervous energy rolled off him, cutting through her with edged teeth. The tension left a metallic taste on her tongue.

A chill rushed over her skin. She took a step closer to him. Finding his bicep under her hands. The warmth soothed the fraying edges between them. "Is this about that clock?"

It was a stupid question. Of course it was about the clock.

His face remained impassive, only holding a fraction of terror behind brown eyes. Michelle continued, "Don't worry about it. It's just empty threats." Snaking her arms around his stomach, she wanted to believe her own words. If she told herself they were empty threats, she had no reason to fear the consequences of her decisions.

Peter hissed, short and breathy. It resonated more so in his chest than from his mouth. If she wasn't so close, she wouldn't have heard it. But with his eyes closed, his lips sucked into a straight line, it was obvious her words didn't put him at ease. "But I am worried about it. About you." He said, Eyelashes fluttering. His irises finally appeared behind his lids. The tension in his face melted into that of unmasked anxiety. "They're watching and waiting. And I'm—I'm really worried." He whispered it from the same place in his chest that his heart resided.

Michelle tilted closer, her hands slipping up his arms, laying flat along his stiff shoulder. Pressing her fingers into the hardened muscles, she felt the strain drip away. Sliding down his back, ice thawing, slipping from a melting glacier.

Their foreheads met and the chill of Peter's skin surprised her. He was shaking. The tremble of his hands distinct as they engulfed her waist. "Hey," She breathed the words, finding anything above a whisper too loud in the intimate space. "I'll be fine."

No.

His body translated the response without the need for words. No. She wouldn't be okay.

"Why?" She placed the word in the kiss she pressed against Peter's cheek.

His arms wound tight around her, dragging her against his body. "They know about the article." Warmth from his words bathed her neck. She tilted it enough for Peter to plant a kiss to her jugular. "I can't find them, but I've heard whispers. The Maggia and everyone else involved—they’ll do anything to keep this quiet. At first, they thought they could scare you, but now—" His voice cracked. “They’re warning you that they want you dead. And I-I can't let that happen. You can't—" A drop of something cool, singular, fell where Peter kissed. One tear. His tear. "You can't let that happen. I know you won't stop, and I don't want you to. But I need you safe too..." His words dropped off into more grazes against her skin.

Michelle turned her head, allowing Peter's lips to caress the line of her jaw. Her fingers carded into his hair. Tears blurred against her skin, transferring from Peter's cheek to hers. His chest heaved against her own, sobbing with nothing but breaths from his lips. "What should I do?" She asked the question, even though she knew there were plenty of things she should do. She should leave her apartment. Go somewhere safe, discrete, given that the city’s deadliest mob had a bounty on her head. But at the moment, Michelle didn't want to leave. She didn’t want to think. Not in this moment with Peter's breath, intimate and private, mingling with her own. Leaving was impossible when his hands left whispers on her skin.

As Peter peppered more kisses across her cheeks he replied, "Leave here,” A peck on her jaw. “Go somewhere safe,” A sigh in her ear. “Don't die," He trailed to her lips, kissing each corner before slanting his mouth over hers. "Please."

She opened her mouth to him, her knees buckling against the edge of her bed.

Kissing Peter was the same as wading through a lake. He enveloped her, water molding to her skin. It was a slow kiss, long and lazy. Moving against each other with sweeping motions of their lips. Peter’s tongue caressed her lips. She opened her mouth willingly. Letting everything but him slip away until she was bare.

When Peter’s lips found a pathway past her neck, between the valley of her breasts, Michelle knew he marked her skin with salt. Her own eyes stung with tears. They slid past her temples, into her hair.

She was trapped in a dangerous game. Fear wracked her with heavy blows every day. She investigated everything from drug rings and human trafficking to political scandals and corporate cover-ups. Those articles created a plethora of enemies over the years. Michelle knew there were specific people who might just crack a smile if she died tomorrow. Normally, it was nothing more than an occasional thought. A thought that held no power or fear over her. But this wasn't a small drug lord, or arms dealer. Her article would expose the rich and powerful of New York City.

People had been killed for exposing less.

Exposing child sex trafficking, provided by the Maggia gang and patronized by a number of New York's shining elitists, was more than dangerous. It was the type of story that loaded the gun, cocked it, then waited to see who would fire first. With nothing but a few additional investigative loose ends, the story would be ready in less than a week. Michelle could feel the trigger slowly pulling back, milliseconds from discharging.  

Once the article published the bounty on her head would grow. The ticking clocks outside her door would increase. A faceless gunman could introduce her to death tomorrow. If that was because she publicized the identities of the buyers and sellers of child sex trafficking, she would write that story again.

That didn't mean she wasn't scared out of her mind.

Michelle fell back into the present as Peter traveled lower, leaving burns the shape of his lips on her naked skin. She couldn't remember exactly when she stripped her clothing, but she prayed Peter continued.

He was water, touching every surface. Her labored breathing stemmed from him. Peter deprived her of all oxygen before supplying it again. She felt the tremble of his shoulders between her thighs. The desperate strokes his mouth made. The way his hands clasped her hips. She knew his anxieties echoed her own.

Then melodies were playing. Peter was her reality as she crested. He was everything when she fell apart in a bundle of exposed nerves in his hands.

Peter trailed back up her body, finding her mouth once more. Skin touched skin with cleansing fire. Michelle was reborn with the weight of him pressing into her. As he kissed her—his cheeks now dry and his voice hoarse—he whispered everything and nothing into her skin.

They created weather together. Every touch of Peter's desperate fingers crackled with lightning. The heat of open-mouthed kisses birthed wildfires. Humidity hung against their slick bodies. Wind rushed from the canyons of their lips, leaving them without atmosphere to breathe. When Peter dove into her, the northern lights flashed in Michelle's eyes. They created oceans and mountains with their rhythm. Two tectonic plates crashing into the other with beautiful power. Sound and space collided into the melody of I love you.

After the crescendo where heaven and earth collided, she collapsed into a series of earthquakes. Him into a cacophony of volcanic eruptions. Tears and sweat mingled. Under the covers, Peter tucked his nose into the curve of Michelle's neck. He was still shaking, his hold on her as firm as it had been when they started. She swallowed hard, felt a similar tremor in her chest, and spoke, "I have to publish the article."

Peter nodded. His lashes fluttered against her skin. "I know."

Fatigue washed over her. Her fingers halted combing through Peter's hair. She rested her hand at the nape of his neck, her vision growing watery. Peter's thumb mopped up the stray tear rolling over her cheek, down her neck. "I don't want to do this without you," His eyes shot to her own, steady and strong. She looked away, realizing the gravity of her choices. Maybe she could've had a different life if she wasn't so stubborn. If she didn't need to uncover and investigate everything. Or, bring attention to the political and social injustices plaguing the planet. If only she didn't feel that unshakable need. But she did. Because if she didn't, she didn't trust anyone else to do it. Michelle trailed her eyes back to Peter's. "I know I'm a lot. I know it's a lot to handle. Most people at twenty-three don’t have these problems," But, most people weren’t investigative journalists in a relationship with Spider-Man. She placed an idle kiss against Peter's lips. “But I don't want you to leave me alone."

"I wouldn’t leave you, but I don’t want you to leave me alone, either." Peter returned the kiss, his fingers curling around her neck. He smelled sweet, pleasant like the rain. She filled her lungs with the smell of him. "You’re so strong. I know you can protect yourself, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. To keep you alive. But you have to stay alive."

Michelle's eyes drooped of their own accord, but before sleep claimed her, she whispered, "I'll do my best."

She smiled into Peter’s chest as she drifted off. Safe for the moment.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #100: Centenary Celebration (6/21/19)

That’s right, guys, gals, and pals! We’ve made it to the hundredth installment of the TØP Weekly Update! And to honor that, we’re going to kick it back to the ol’ format and do a deep dive into all things Twenty One Pilots from the last seven days. Let’s get it!

This Week’s TØPics:

Spotify Location Sessions

Celebrating the Life of Blake Shelton

Is This Finally It For “Chlorine”’s Chart Time?

Reflections on 100 Updates

My TØP Discovery Story

Major Releases, News, and Announcements:

Sneaking in at the very end of the week, the band dropped a “Location Session” acoustic performance for “Chlorine” last night on all platforms. The latitude/longitude coordinates included in the title translate to the center of Mexico City. This could mean that the song was initially conceived in the city, or it could mean that this was where this version was recorded, perhaps during the private show they delivered a few weeks back. I find the latter more likely, particularly as the recent private show in Brooklyn already leaked some alternate arrangements to a few songs. But who knows? It could be part of a much bigger master plan. We’ll just have to see how the rest of these Sessions roll out- we’ve really been left in the dark on this one.

Interviews, Performances, and Other Shenanigans:

Really, the biggest piece of news from this week is that Josh Dun turned 31. This saw the expected outpouring of love for Debby Ryan and Tyler Joseph’s life partner online from friends, family, and fans. The best celebration for the fans, though, came to us onstage at the show in Birmingham, where Tyler not only agreed to lead everyone in singing “one of the worst songs ever” but offered a video tribute to the most important men born on June 18th- you know, Blake Shelton, Paul McCartney, Kendrick Lamar (almost) and the first Fast and Furious movie (Tyler thought this joke was so funny he lay down on the stage to laugh it out).

Never one to be left out of the spotlight, Tyler showed us a clearer picture of how Jenna has cleaned up their tour bus space, blew a kiss to a person with a pride flag during “Holding On To You”, and congratulated some fans who got engaged in the pit.

But wait, there’s more! We also got another press conference interview where Tyler talks about how to get inspired and his opinions on The Bachelorette, Josh discusses Jim vomiting up salt water, and they both talk about how they manage all the bags of money sitting around and who they’d want to sit on them if they were chairs (really). Another interview had Tyler speculate on snorting spaghetti, while another press conference saw the boys speculate on when “Trees” might leave the setlist (You hear that? That’s the sound of a million Clikkies crying out in terror at once.)

Chart Performance:

Sadly, the release of the Location Session will probably not be sufficient to save our girl “Chlorine”. After a random uptick in performance last week, “Chlorine” fell back down on Bubbling Under and on most chart metrics. This song’s been taking me on a real roller coaster that I think might finally be over.

Upcoming Shows:

Next week will see the Bandito Tour continue to wind through the United States, with shows in Houston (Toyota Center; 19,000 capacity), San Antonio (AT&T Center; 19,000), Austin (Frank Erwin Center, 17,900), Oklahoma City (Chesapeake Energy Arena, 16,500), and Memphis (FedEx Forum; 19,000). Then the week after that... well, we’ll talk about that tomorrow.

100th Update Retrospective:

It’s truly hard for me to wrap my head around how long I’ve been curating this little blog and all the ways that it has evolved and changed over the last three years. When I started the blog back in August 2016, it was really just a place to sort my thoughts about the band I loved more than any other for much longer than that. The first update still only has a single note, a reblog from my personal account, and I never really expected this blog to receive any more attention than that. The fact that this series persisted even when the Hiatus made it impossible to stick to its titular promise is remarkable, but not nearly as much as the fact that people actually care about what I have to say about these two dummies. I’m so grateful for everyone who has taken the time to read, share, and respond to even one of my ramblings.

To wrap up this update, I thought I’d share my story of how I discovered this band nearly six years ago. If you’re not here to hear some rando ramble about himself, feel free to move right along, but for the Real Ones who have been here for some time, let me catch you up to speed...

It was 2013, the summer after my junior year of high school, and I was absolutely miserable. Now, I tended to be miserable in general back then- I was a teenager struggling with depression, loneliness, and trauma- but I had a special reason to be on this particular week. I had gone to a church camp located on a lake that was nearly a full day’s drive from my house. On the first day of the trip, I slipped while climbing a cliff down by the shore and hit my back on a rock, pretty seriously injuring myself. I stubbornly refused to return home or go to a hospital, so I got bandaged up on site and spent the next three days laying out on the beach alone, watching everyone else have fun while I willed my back to heal. 

Since this was a nature retreat, my sole distraction in this time was a 50-song playlist made by one of the church leaders that looped on repeat in the same order for the entire week. With no choice but to actively listen to the lyrics to each of these songs, I grew to really dislike most of them. Yet two of those songs, both sung by a guy with a particularly interesting whine, stood out to me as especially interesting. The singer was talking about stuff I really could relate to, not just in this moment of loneliness but even more in my life back at home. This guy was talking about struggling with your own brain, about trying to find something greater than ourselves to hold on to, about how to turn your hands towards something constructive, about trying to find connection with others through music. Listening through the other 48 songs was worth it to get to those two.

I asked the counselor who wrote “Holding On To You” and “Guns For Hands”. He told me about this new band called Twenty One Pilots. And my life hasn’t been the same since.

Power to the local dreamer.

||-//

[a-lbeit]

2019: a year in review

a doozy

rang in the new year at jellyrolls in orlando with a complimentary champagne toast, hats and noisemakers, and a round of “auld lang syne,” just as you’re supposed to, ending the night at steak n shake with some of the best people i’ve known. it was a traditional new years, and i couldn’t be more grateful.

watched most of my roommates go back to where they came from--australia, ohio, brazil, hawaii. it was a sad few days when i was alone in the apartment before moving to a new place, continuing on with the college program.

had a visit from my parents and aunt. it was nostalgic, in a way, and i’m so glad they were able to visit me. my aunt has already visited me out here in california, and i hope my parents can make the trip out at some point.

found out that i had been accepted to participate in the college program in disneyland. i remember opening that email at the bus stop after a morning shift at the hotel. it was unthinkable, the idea that california was on my horizon. i hadn’t been that excited about something in a long, long time. in the coming days, i remember researching driving across the country in an old and unreliable car.

finally took the free tour of the wilderness lodge. it certainly held my interest, but i took the information with a grain of salt. it’s still disney, after all.

started hanging out with katie, nicole, and estevan, the first group of people i didn’t live with that i felt close to since high school. going to the parks with them was so pure, the way i picture young people’s experiences at disney world should be like. we went to the butterfly garden at epcot, got food at the flower and garden festival, and watched happily ever after countless times. i’m not often one for that type of shit, usually, but with them, it was incredible. 

drove back to charleston on st patrick’s day to see mumford and sons with callie. that was one of the groups i’d always wanted to see, and callie is one of the best people to see a concert with. i’ve said it before, but marcus mumford is one of my favorite celebrity-type people. he seems genuine and personable.

drove back a couple days later and went to bob ross’s grave with katie

the next day, finally bit the bullet and bought a ticket to universal. katie and i had so much fun that day. it was strange being back there and seeing all the changes since i had last been on my senior trip in high school. seeing everything, especially on the universal side, that i had missed or never had time for, was far out.

had a visit from lisa and toby somewhere in there and also from my cousin

went to blizzard beach with katie and nicole

went to clearwater beach with katie, nicole, and estevan. i found $20 in the sand, we took nice photos, and blasted music in the car.

had some late night walmart and target visits with them, where nicole and i started our “hello/hi” snapchat epics. i miss those.

nicole spent a few nights at the hospital, so we visited her. we had fun, even though i know she was scared. 

went to magic kingdom on 4/20 lmfao 

went to jellyrolls one last time

was given a cupcake for my second to last day at port orleans (and for my last, as well). one of the managers was quite kind and i do appreciate her.

went to universal one last time. cracked my phone that morning lmfao. still had a great day, though. 

the last evening before moving out, katie, estevan, and i went to magic kingdom. daniel took some photos for us in front of the castle, we said goodbye to estevan, watched happily ever after, and for our last ride, attempted to go on thunder mountain. we were evacuated. what a way to end it.

despite these memories, the first part of 2019 is kind of a blur. i remember being infuriated with my workplace environment--the lack of hours, the shitty treatment of employees, particularly by one of the managers. i do not miss him and i do not miss that place. i am only thankful to have met katie, nicole, and estevan through it. port orleans riverside, and disney world in general (not disneyland, on which i will speak later) is the absolute most awful place i have ever worked. i cried in my car in the rain starting my 6 hour drive back to charleston on may 2nd to have to leave my friends, but i was overjoyed to be leaving orlando.

returned to charleston, no money in my bank account, worried about the plausibility of getting a job just for a few months before leaving for california.

saw shakey graves with callie and some others. it wasn’t the best shakey graves show i’d seen, but it was nice nonetheless.

went to folly beach for the sunrise with melissa. it was beautiful and empty, and i was even wearing a jacket in charleston in may. 

also went to the grand reopening of one of the local mcdonalds with melissa LMFAO

got a job at east bay deli and also back at the college bookstore. thank god for them.

spent the next 8-ish weeks mostly just working close to every day. i might have had 3 or 4 days off in that time. but i wouldn’t have had it any other way. i actually looked forward to the 2 days a week i got to work at the bookstore--i loved my supervisors and coworkers so much. and the deli was chill and i enjoyed my coworkers there, too. i miss them, to be honest. both of those jobs. i didn’t make much money, but it was something to enable me to get a start in california and to enjoy a couple of summer trips. 

in mid-july, rented a car and drove up to the smokies, one of new favorite summer traditions (although i’m not sure if i’ll be able to continue it this year). on the way there, i even got a new phone, making the trip even better, since i now had a battery life that lasted, gps that actually worked, and a nicer phone camera. i did some really great hikes, ones that i’d had on the back burner for a couple years. i even did 2 hikes in one day that added up to about 15 miles. that’s not really that much, but i was proud of myself. i also found myself once again at looking glass falls, feeling that this is what summer should look like. i miss that place, where everything seems simple, even though it’s not.

returned, worked for a few more days at the bookstore (with my birthday in between, a lovely day spent in edisto with my parents), and flew up to the new york area for a couple days. man, what a trip. 

after arriving at jfk, i took the airtrain into manhattan and headed uptown to finally visit the general grant mausoleum, something i had wanted to do the last couple times i had been to new york but had never had the chance to. it was beautiful to look at and fascinating to learn about. i love that the nps has so many different kinds of sites. then, i went to columbia’s wallach art gallery because i had the time to. bob dylan’s “mozambique” was part of one of the pieces. 

finally took the train down to lauren’s. it was so incredible to spend the night at her apartment and then to come back to the city with her the next day. we went to the color factory, walked around soho, got food in chinatown, and went to a drag performance, after which we met up with kai and got a late dinner in harlem. 

the next day, we walked around to a few color factory spots and parted ways at penn station. i continued on to my next airbnb in queens and went to primark to end the evening. 

went back to flushing meadows corona park, reminiscing about the paul simon concert i’d seen less than a year before and how strange it was to be back on the same soil. i explored the park in more depth. it’s such an overlooked place full of early 60s futurism. i went to paul simon’s childhood home, which is up for sale now, and got a snack at the lemon ice king of corona. on i ventured to the jamaica bay wildlife refuge, another nps site checked off my list (not that any nps site is a place to “check off.” i want to see them all because the diversity is so unique). 

that evening, i met up with ciaran. it was so cool to be able to see him for the first time since berlin. besides zuri and the people i went to school with, he’s the only person i’ve seen since that semester. i loved talking about berlin and what we’ve been up to since then.

my last day, i wandered around prospect park (at the recommendation of ciaran), went to federal hall, and finally to governor’s island where i got soaked in a rainstorm but it was all right. i ended the night with pierogi and thoughts of the coming week.

flew back and packed for the start of a different life

once again flew out of charleston for what i thought would be the last time for a while. i arrived in chicago for a nice few days before chugging out of union station.

trying to get to my airbnb on the l was an experience. lollapalooza was going on, and i arrived at my transfer station just as everyone was leaving for the night. it was packed and i ended up going in the opposite direction i needed just so that i could get on the train in the right direction before everyone else piled on. it was funny, though, even in the moment. 

it was my first time in chicago, so i started my first day at millennium park, which was honestly really cool, despite the crowds. from there, i went to the art institute, where i could have spent all my time if i had the chance. i remembered scenes from ferris bueller. 

travelled down to the university of chicago, where i toured the robie house. i think that was the first frank lloyd wright house that i’ve seen. maybe someday i’ll get to fallingwater and the like. 

more south, there’s a place called the stony island arts bank. they had on display an artist’s work who had painted a photo from each day of obama’s presidency. there were thousands of them. i loved it so much. 

my second and last day, i walked along lake michigan, visited a mexican art museum, and went to the zoo, ending the night at the navy pier gazing at the city lights. this trip was a tourist’s one, but i wouldn’t have had it any other way.

dragged my shit to union station the next morning, ready to depart on an over-two-day long train trip to the west. 

to begin with, the train left probably 2 hours late. it was all right, though. when we finally started moving, i felt it--the wheels against the track, sure, but more so the wind in mountains thousands of miles away that i would soon see. 

sunset in illinois and sunrise in nebraska, a concept

i had both seats to myself from somewhere in illinois until salt lake city. what a time to be alive.

sure, the stretch between denver and colfax might be the beautiful part, but all those plains of nebraska and eastern colorado did a number on me. 

in denver, we had about a 35 minute refuel break, so i left the train and union station and walked to a 7 eleven a few blocks away. how strange it was to be in a city i’d always heard of, but just for a few minutes. when i got back on, a man had boarded and sat in front of me that sure was a loud talker. i was thankful to be behind him rather than next to him. 

we left denver, only to be held up about a half hour later by a freight train stuck in a tunnel. the man started freaking me and the other passengers out a little--he was muttering and sort of rocking back and forth, clearly uncomfortable with the delay we were faced with. i moved to the observation car for the first time to get away from him, and boy, am i glad i did. i spent a good amount of time there for the remainder of my journey. when we were still stuck behind that freight train, the conductor came in and played someone’s guitar, leading us all in a singalong. it was pure and i’m glad i was a part of it.

after we finally got moving again, we started to see the scenery we had signed up for. apart from badlands and the black hills last year, i’d never seen the west at all. this was terrain on the level of ansel adams’s iconography. thank god for that part of the country.

to see and do this on a train made it so much more meaningful. to realize you’re looking at the path that people’s ancestors blazed through all those years ago is something else. 

a lot of utah was passed through at night, unfortunately, but from salt lake city on, we could see the alien landscapes of the state. i still can’t fully fathom its character, but i have at least a bit of an idea now. wow. 

at one point, i think in nevada, we were delayed again by a passenger needing an ambulance. i can’t even imagine what it must have been like for them. i hope everything ended up working out fine for them.

leaving out of reno and crossing the state line into california was anticlimactic but incredible. i was really in california. 

everyone ended up getting a free meal because the train was so late. at that point, it was over 6 hours behind schedule. that beef stew, mashed potatoes, and bread sure hit different when i hadn’t had substantial food since denver.

the train emptied out as time went on, and after the last sunset somewhere in the middle of california, it was just me and a few others in the observation car. trev and i had been talking for months about meeting up once i got to california, and he ended up calling me to ask if he could come to my airbnb the night i arrived in anaheim in a few days. i said yes. it remained in the back of my mind. 

we rolled in to emeryville 5 minutes before midnight, 7 hours and 45 minutes late. it was cold and i was unsure of the reliability of my airbnb host, but i wouldn’t trade it for anything. i ended up taking a lyft to the airbnb because i just couldn’t deal with waiting for or even learning the bus. my airbnb host was probably the worst i’ve ever had, and i only was able to get into the apartment complex because another resident came back and let me in, but it doesn’t matter.

i worried about transportation costs in san francisco, but i bit the bullet (as gently as i could). it’s fucking san francisco in the summertime. what else can you do?

i started everything off with a visit to the hyde street pier after taking the bus into the city from berkeley. i saw a sea lion or seal or whatever and got my first view of the golden gate. it was like nothing else. 

had in n out, since i guess it’s blasphemous not to

walked to the palace of the arts and then went to the bridge. i didn’t cross it or anything, but i walked down to the beach and admired the bay. how do places like that exist? 

climbed back up to the level of civilization and rushed over to the embarcadero to meet up with brandon. i feel so grateful that i was able to meet up with him. we walked around chinatown, had dinner, and ended the night at burger king in union square.

the next morning, i made my way to golden gate park, where outside lands was to be held later that day. i saw the windmill, the bison enclosure, strawberry hill, the aids memorial grove--a message on one of the stones said the names of two men who had “met the day humans walked on the moon”--and hippie hill. that park is full.

i thought about trev on my long walks, how i’d probably be seeing him in a little over 24 hours 

ventured into the haight-ashbury district, where i wandered around amoeba a little bit and saw the music history which has become such a piece of consumerism nowadays. i guess it always was, though.

saw a beautiful church in mission delores and looked around an alley of street art; then went up to the richy rich part of town (although i guess that’s the entirety of sf, isn’t it?) to see the painted ladies and look at everything the beat museum had to offer. that place was so fascinating.

went back to my airbnb briefly before taking the bart down to oakland to see paul simon in his pop-up show at the fox theater that he’d announced about a week beforehand. i was lucky enough to score a ticket, and even though his setlist was mostly the same from when i’d seen him twice the year before, there’s something about him that just makes me wide-eyed. 

the next day, flew out of sf and into orange county, my new home. flying down to southern california was a feeling of hope and freshness. i don’t feel it as much anymore, but it sure did make my heart jump at the time. i still couldn’t believe i was in california, seeing the pacific outside my airplane window, and that just 4 or 5 days before, i had experienced so much less in my life.

that evening, trev came over. it was certainly a day of firsts. i remember that night so well, how he kissed me good night at the end. i still like him as a friend and i’ll probably hook up with him again, but blech. cringe. i’ve changed, i think.

the next day, i moved into a new apartment to start the disney college program once again. meeting my 4 roommates, who knew what kind of shit was to happen over the next few months? i was so guarded that day, as i always am with meeting people, but especially with the self-hatred of continuing to work for disney.

in the next few days before the orientation where we get our disney IDs and entrance pass to the parks, i got settled and explored the area a little bit. i walked onto disney property, seeing the disneyland sign for the first time. it was otherworldly. i had thought about this for so many years, not just california, but disneyland specifically. it was the original, the first. seeing downtown disney, the hotels, and a few views of the parks was insane. 

the day of the orientation was like a door opening. we went on a small tour of the park. it was just me and one other guy in our group who had never been to disneyland, so we got to go out into it first. i will always remember that first second. i also learned that i would be working at autopia lmfao and i was NAWT happy. look at me now. i am so goddamn indebted to that place.

that evening, my roommates and i went into the park as guests, and i rode peter pan as my first ride. i was happy. 

went to la for the first time the next day. seeing the hollywood sign in the distance doesn’t faze me quite so much now, but that first time, wow. it’s beautiful when everything is new to you. 

went to the parks a few more times in the midst of training at auto. i met and befriended abby, greg, and alex. my second day of auto training was blake and jacob’s first. i remember meeting them and shaking their hands and discussing how we had all done a program in florida.

went to joshua tree one night with zuri, where we stargazed and saw all kinds of flora and fauna. it was beautiful, and i loved being the one to drive back at 4 in the morning through the blackened californian scenery.

the day i got signed off, i went back to la to spend the night at trev’s LMFAO, with the next morning spent at venice and santa monica. i remember feeling so grateful for my life, for california, for getting laid, for disneyland.

a few nights later, a big group of us all went out. i got drunk for the first time. i met britt then, and i got closer to blake and everyone.

in the next few weeks, i went to an angels game with abby and her roommates, went bowling with coworkers, and had a tipsy la day with abby.

then came september 11th. we were all going to go out again. after work, i went to walmart to buy vodka and strawberry lemonade. i made a detour to mcdonald’s because i wanted to eat something before getting lit. and i broke my ankle. never got to go out that night. the defining point of these past 6 months.

i sat on the ground after falling for about 20 minutes, maybe, waiting and hoping for the pain to subside. it didn’t. before the swelling started, i noticed that when i moved my left ankle, it didn’t look the same as my right one. i admitted defeat and called my roommate to drive me to the er. thank god for her. 

we sat in the er waiting room for a couple hours. my ankle hurt, but i don’t really remember it being too bad anymore. they finally saw me. i got an x-ray. the technician said it was broken. i started crying. the nurse splinted me up and gave me crutches. the doctor wrote me a recommendation for an orthopedic specialist. i fell again trying to use the crutches on the way out. they re-x-rayed me. re-splinted me. sent me home.

i somehow took a shower the next morning. blake messaged me, asking how i was. he brought me coffee and pastries. i will never forget it. 

i couldn’t get an appointment until almost a week later, but in the meantime, my roommates and i held a couple game and movie nights. abby and jacob came by, blake always made an appearance, and i met tucker.

i would start a lot of days by listening to the sigh no more album and contemplating my future. it was a low time, but not the lowest it would get.

britt and i talked a lot, comparing our experiences. i asked her a lot about medical leave. we grew closer because of it all.

when the appointment finally rolled around, i was told that i would most likely need surgery. he re-splinted it and sent me on my way, as it was still too swollen to do anything. i cried in blake’s car. 

i called my parents and they said i should come home. i was devastated, but they were right. i was going to do absolutely EVERYTHING in my power to be able to continue with my college program, though. this shit would not end me. (and it didn’t. but i didn’t know it at the time.)

a flight was booked for me to fly back to charleston on september 21st. the night before, we had a final game night with everyone. blake gave me a letter, saying not to read it until i got on the plane. hugs goodbye were tight and i felt my chest close. it was melancholic in a way i’d never felt before. 

i sat in the airport the next day trying not to cry. i was able to hold it in. then i was in the air and i finally let myself read the letter. tears escaped often throughout that entire day. i tried to be as discreet as i could. 

i reunited with my parents much sooner than i thought i would. it had only been just over a month, after all. i had an appointment that tuesday and we set up surgery for thursday. 

i was in charleston for 6 weeks exactly, one of the longest stretches of time in my life. i was constantly forlorn about california and worried about my finances and my participation in the program. the lowest point hit when one of the program people said i should consider cutting my losses and quitting, that they’d only make me pay rent through the middle of november because of my circumstances. i got a medical bill from the er in anaheim that was exponential because my insurance hadn’t gone through yet (but i didn’t realize that part). the only thing that kept me all right was the thought of my friends in california and the hope of a grandiose future, although i wasn’t too sure about that possibility. i wrote blake a letter and he wrote me back. i read east of eden and some other books. britt and i texted. rozi and i became incredibly close. i hung out with my parents and we watched queer eye. i recovered. i became better. my blind resilience (or perhaps stubbornness) was the main reasoning behind my (stupidly naïve) unwavering assuredness of a return to california. 

LMFAO at the fact that i almost forgot about this, but i texted tucker a lot during that stretch, as well. he asked me out, and we grew closer during my stint in charleston. i looked forward to hanging out with him when i got back.

and the day of my return did come. november 2nd, the most beautifully pure day of my program. i flew back with grace in my heart and stars in my eyes, even though i was still on crutches. i had a window seat and clear skies to admire the southwest, another part of the country i had never had the chance to lay eyes on. and i landed at john wayne airport to texts about my return. britt picked me up and everything seemed positive and optimistic. 

reuniting with blake was something in itself. it was brief, but it had been such a long time coming that i almost cried again. he called me a kindred spirit one time, and that is such a perfect description of what he is to me, as well. 

finally met up with tucker. we went to in n out and came back to my apartment, where we talked for a while and made out for a while. 

had an appointment less than a week later, where i was told that i could start putting weight on my ankle again. within another week, i was down to one crutch. it was freeing in a way i’d never known. by now, it was the middle of november, and i still wasn’t certain when i’d return to work, but it didn’t matter anymore. i was here, in california, surrounded by people i’d grown unfathomably close to in such a short time. 

went to the ellen show somewhere in there and had sex with tucker LMFAO. we spent a lot of time together in about three weeks (he ended up quitting the program and moving back to georgia, so our time was quite short). i had a good time, although i now realize how blinded i was by his laziness and selfishness. i don’t miss him, but i don’t regret it. 

had a photoshoot with my boot and my crutch. it was nice to be able to have fun again. 

finally returned to the parks, which was something of a homecoming, but not as much as when my aunt visited a few days later and i rode autopia for the first time since everything happened.

tucker moved out, and i cried. i roll my eyes now. i wrote him a letter and he never acknowledged it, and never texted anyone back that wished him well. fuck him.

on november 25th, the program gave us a thanksgiving dinner. after that, rozi, blake, britt, and i all wanted to do something, so blake found this place called the juke joint less than a mile away. it was the start of our close group. we would go and play pool and have a drink or two. by that point, i was down to no crutch, as well.

one night, we all went to abby’s. i got a little drunk and talked about socialism and the national park service for like half an hour.

went to medieval times lmao

it kind of became a thing for us to drag blake out of his apartment to go to juke joint. those were the days.

got cleared to go back to work on december 4th, but didn’t go back until the 13th. in that time, i chilled, tried not to spend money, and slept over at trev’s again after a fun karaoke session with zuri and her coworkers. we went to amoeba and guitar center, and i went to a book talk at the morrison hotel gallery.

one juke joint night, rozi, blake, britt, and i ended up staying out all night, driving to the top of the world in laguna to see sunrise. it started with rozi needing toilet paper, so we went to target after leaving juke joint. then we didn’t want it to end. we got tacos and donuts and we sat in a park for a while talking about life. rozi wanted to go to a view. we found the top of the world. and we drove there. there was fog and gas station snacks. i am thankful for that night and for rozi initiating it all.

went to the dcp end of program celebration and got drunk at abby’s apartment afterwards. i had a lot of fun that night. i met matheus there. 

finally went back to work on december 13th. that morning, all the program participants had an opportunity to take a photo in front of the castle, and jacob, abby, and i all posed together. at work, i felt a real sense of joy. my ankle and feet hurt by the end of the day, but the knowledge of forthcoming paychecks and a renewed sense of purpose overpowered any pain.

went to the newport boat parade

another night, rozi, blake, and i again stayed out all night after juke joint. we went back to the same park, and after a while, we said “let’s go to la.” i drove there in blake’s car, and we tried to go to griffith, but it was closed. so we went up to the start of a hollywood sign hike and looked down at the city’s lights. the juxtaposition of the natural and the man-made is really captivating. then we went to hollywood boulevard and had fries at a 24 hour burger place in the roosevelt hotel at 4 in the morning. it was beautiful. on the way back, rozi slept in the back and blake and i talked about politics and the park service, about trump’s impeachment. i called out of work and slept all day, that evening going to jacob’s housewarming party. after we left, the four of us went back to blake’s (i, at least, was crossfaded at that point lmfao) and all laid on his twin bed. 

on christmas eve, rozi, blake, and i went to california adventure and had food from the festival of the holidays. it was an incredible evening. it felt pure. 

i worked on christmas morning again, but i enjoyed myself. blake and i would fuck around, and it really made everything all right.

went out with some coworkers a few days later. we laughed and got low. 

worked a hell of a lot, trying to make up for the three months i had been out of a job

new years eve almost was anticlimactic--almost. blake, abby, and i all worked and came home together, making a stop at vons for champagne, pizza, and chips and salsa. then, i found out rozi wasn’t going to be around because she was going to spend the evening with her family. i was disheartened. new years is the only holiday i really care about, and it was about to be the start of the roaring 20s. i wanted to do something big. but it ended up being all right. i went to abby’s apartment and hung out with her roommates. blake came a bit later. we all drank together until abby and bailey decided to go to california adventure, while the rest of us decided to stay. at midnight, it ended up just being me, blake, mackenzie, and lauren, which was all right. i was drunk by that point and i don’t really remember the ball dropping, but i know it was a nice way to roll in the new year. britt came through eventually, and we went back to blake’s, but he wanted to take a smoke, so we all went outside, me in his blanket. as he smoked his cigar (of which i took a few drags, unfortunately), britt went up to this party that was happening across the way and somehow got us all in. we put his blanket back and went into the party, which is fuzzy to me. i remember eating doritos and drinking jameson lmfao. i saw rod and matty at one point. i kissed them. i don’t remember coming home, but i got to work at 8:45 the next day on time. i was still drunk, but i sure did have fun that new years morning. i laughed and joked with blake and abby. it was their last day. i almost cried when blake came up to me as he was leaving.

saw a lot of movies thanks to my cousin working at amc and giving me a card that lets me see any movie any time for free

drove a little, even in california

spent way too much money on food

thought a lot about the differences between working conditions at disney world and disneyland. i’m thankful to be in california now, where the laws give more power to employees, where i’m part of a union, where the weather is good and the people are better

counted my endless blessings. i have never been more grateful of my life.

analyzed my broken ankle. it could not have come at a better time, in all honesty. i had already met incredible people on this program and had gotten to know them a little bit, so i didn’t feel like i was on the outskirts of the program, even when i was back in south carolina. it made me grow closer to everyone somehow, and i am thankful and appreciative beyond belief for that. rozi and i probably wouldn’t be as close as we are now without it. britt and i wouldn’t have bonded over our injuries. blake and i, oh man. we would have never written each other, i probably wouldn’t have read east of eden, and we might never have formed the juke joint squad. i remember writing about how hard it was, dealing with my broken ankle, with the lack of mobility, with the impending medical bills, but that i still thought that in the future, i would think the whole thing was soft. i think that even now, just a month or so later. even with the debt, with the worry of my mobility, i am so content with how my life has developed just over these past 4 months.

laughed and cried 

missed school

listened to music in a new light, but maybe not as much as i used to

became incredibly busy, but would not have traded it for anything

looked into the aspire program with the realization that i would probably be starting the road to my master’s quite soon 

became less conflicted about working for disney. i still hate myself sometimes, but it’s a different vibe out here. it seems more genuine than in florida. 

completely embraced a life in california. i don’t really think this is where i’ll end up (although who really ever knows?), but i am so genuinely happy to be in this place for a bit--and i don’t think i’ve ever unabashedly or truly thought that about a residence before

loved the national park service, as i always do, and loved discussing it with blake

songs of the year: “timshel,” mumford and sons; “this life,” vampire weekend, “the cool, cool river,” paul simon; “count your blessings,” bing crosby. “timshel” made me think about my somehow unfaltering strength and independence, about how i have to be the source of affirmation in my own life. “this life” encapsulated the beauty of a never-ending summer. “the cool, cool river” let me remember to show weakness sometimes. and “count your blessings” is always in the back of my mind.

album of the year: norman fucking rockwell, lana del rey. that entire album was such a soundtrack for me when i was dreaming of nothing but california, of my friends, of walking. 

man, 2019. the end of a decade. the change i had been waiting for. i am a completely different person than i was even 6 months ago. the events of this year affected me unlike anything in the past. i said last year that 2018 was the most eventful year of my life, but this year was something else. and i am so unendingly grateful for the trials, tribulations, and victories that it threw at me. romance, friendship, sex, drinks, travel, financial worry, pain, and overall, an enduring lust for life have carried me through this year into a new decade, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

the first part of 2019 was completely different than the second half, and it is wild to think about it in those terms. i’m not too sure why california changed me the way it did, but man, the people i’ve come in contact with over the past 5 months have had such an impact on my life. the relationships i formed were the newest but also somehow some of the closest ones i’ve ever had. and it’s strange to think about them, but they completely envelop my outlook on this entire year. 

i’ve been so caught up in my own life that i haven’t even touched on global events. you only have to remember a couple things to become overwhelmed by the horrors of the planet. climate change, hate crimes, poverty, war. it all blends together, honestly. i think about how the world is shitty and i just kind of close myself off from it. but there is always the occasional beautiful moment that you easily pluck from the depths of your brain to renew your hope. because even though it can constantly seem like you have lost all your hope, it is never actually gone. i think it’s impossible for hope to leave your being. that sense of longing and anticipation for an untouched tomorrow always gets me through the night. 

and sometimes, you don’t even need hope. when you’ve got this incredible entanglement of all the people you love so much surrounding you, you can just picture their faces and remember the good times you’ve had so far with them and rest assured that life just might have mercy on you, on your weary but persistent and trailblazing soul.

“maybe it’s true that we are all descended from the restless, the nervous, the criminals, the arguers and brawlers, but also the brave and independent and generous. if our ancestors had not been that, they would have stayed in their home plots in the other world and starved over the squeezed-out soil.”

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

i just need to vent. ranting about the us system for mental health care ahead. i wasn’t going to put it behind a cut, but it got obscenely long.

okay. so anyone who knows me or who follows this blog knows that my brain is pretty broken. it’s creative, and fun, and smart, and all that, but also just suuuuuuuper broken. 

because us healthcare is ALSO broken, i didn’t get my full slate of diagnoses until i was almost thirty. and that was a long, convoluted process that is a whole other story, but what matters at this point is that my fascinating brain is officially comprised of generalized anxiety, bipolar 1 disorder, autism, and adhd (plus i think a few cats in a trenchcoat).

now, if you’re not familiar with all of those disorders, like i wasn’t prior to being diagnosed, you might be surprised to learn that the combination? is INCREDIBLY fun. the stimulants that they often prescribe to those of us with adhd can trigger manic episodes in those of us who are bipolar, which means two parts of my brain are locked in a permanent battle to see which one gets treatment and which one just gets to drive me crazy.

before i won my disability case a few years ago, i didn’t have insurance, and i lived in utah, a state that is super proud to have healthcare for mormons & the wealthy and death for everyone else. while i was there, the battle over utah rejecting aca money just to spite the sick and poor was raging on, and so my mental health care was a free clinic that was prohibited from prescribing the exact medication i needed for the problem i went to them for. 

instead of helping treat my adhd, they gave me my first diagnosis that would eventually be specified as bipolar 1 disorder, and they gave me meds for THAT and told me it would probably help the adhd too. 

it didn’t.

but being medicated for the bipolar disorder was still pretty amazing. the difference between me on meds and me off them isn’t like, institutionalization yet, thank the gods. but it is the difference between feeling sad and then moving on with my day or me standing in one spot sobbing uncontrollably until i nearly pass out because a movie I HAD SEEN BEFORE was sad.

but you know what’s just fabulous about us healthcare? (spoiler alert: the answer is nothing) the care you have access to varies based on where you live!! and because we can all control exactly where we live based on our healthcare needs, that’s just wonderfully designed. really fantastic. 

so when we moved from utah to california, a move that was wanted but also financially necessary, i went from a localized system of university-based insurance to a different plan each time i found myself in a new city. because even if i was only moving a hour away, it put me across the county line, which of course changes your options every. single. time. you move.

and every single time i moved, and got a new insurance plan, i had to find new doctors. which meant waiting while i was transferred to the new plan, then waiting until i could see my new doctor, then waiting to see the specialist approved by my insurance, and none of that included the time it took me to actually contact each of those people, because i have to talk myself through an impending panic attack every time i dial the phone. 

but that’s not even the worst of it. the waiting sucks, the long loooooong gaps in coverage and going without my medication sucks. but the worst of it is not being able to be treated at all.

it’s been more than five years now, since i went to a college counselor who told me they couldn’t help with the focusing problems i was having that were so severe i couldn’t do my class readings. it’s been almost that long since the free clinic promised me that if i just took the anti-seizure medication that they used for bipolar disorder, my adhd symptoms would improve. 

it’s been years since the incredibly kind and knowledgeable psychiatrist in salt lake city explained my four concurrent disorders to me, and then explained why i couldn’t be allowed help for the adhd because it was just too dangerous. 

it’s been more than a year since i went to multiple talk therapy sessions that were required before getting me a prescribing psychiatrist appointment, only to be told when i arrived for that final, promised-land-after-years-in-the-crazy-desert-of-my-brain appointment, that the psychiatrist didn’t feel qualified to work with my multiple conflicting disorders and there was nothing anyone could do for me. i broke down crying in the lobby. i still feel bad for the receptionist who was given the awesome job of telling me that.

i think it’s been about a year that we’ve lived here now, in this NEW california city, where i have ANOTHER primary care provider. this one had trouble communicating with my autistic self at my first appointment, and i might still be there asking her to explain her questions better if my spouse hadn’t been in the room to translate for me. 

my new doctor (the third, or the fifth, or the seventh, at this point, i’ve lost count) will not prescribe mental health medication to me. i have to see a specialist. which i get on principle, it isn’t her expertise and i’m new to the area. but it’s a year later, and i’m still off my meds, and i’m still trying to get back on them, let alone get help FOR THE THING I SOUGHT HELP FOR five years ago.

today my spouse was able to get through to my referred psychiatrist, who i’d been getting the voicemail of with no reply for months now. he isn’t available. the last psychiatrist i was assigned won’t take patients who have the doctor i have as a primary care provider. the one before that wasn’t accepting my insurance--the insurance that assigned them to me. 

so now my insurance will try again, taking whatever next step they’re going to escalate to. if my spouse weren’t making the phone calls for me, i don’t think i would even still be trying at this point, because today’s dead end wasn’t even a surprise. i don’t expect anything else anymore. i’m so far past the point of losing hope, it no longer even hurts. 

this is where i am. something about where i live, or the way the system is set up, or how my brain is busted, makes me impossible to help. 

anyway, i whine a lot on my blog about not being able to focus, about not having the energy to function, about wanting to write or read a book, or make things. i miss knitting. i can’t keep track of the stitches when i try to follow a pattern, so i don’t do it anymore. but it used to be fun.

so i guess the point of this, beyond getting it all out because i feel numb and it’s unsettling and at least rambling my feelings proves that i have them, is that i’m pretty hard on myself, publicly and privately, when i can’t get my brain to work the way i wish it could. it’s a process of deterioration, the more i go without care and the older i get--and that sucks. 

but as hard as it is, it’s not all my fault. the external factors, things i can’t control, about america, about health insurance, about my brain...it hurts even more because i can’t control them, but i should try harder to remember that i can’t. the more frustrated i am, the more i feel like i’m not trying hard enough, and that isn’t true. i’m trying really hard, and i just can’t fix me alone.

i’d like to learn to blame myself a little less for that.

[180abroad]

Days 158-160: Salzburg & Berchtesgaden

On the border between Austria and Germany is a small corner of the Alps whose fame far exceeds its size. It is German and Austrian and also not quite either at the same time. It's been settled since the Stone Age and grew fabulously wealthy thanks to the local salt deposits, a commodity as valuable in historical times as oil is now. For hundreds of years it was ruled by an eccentric system of elected prince-bishops. It is the extremely proud birthplace of Mozart--though Mozart himself hated it and moved to Vienna as soon as he could afford to.

More recently, it has earned renewed fame as a place of extraordinary beauty--both natural and architectural. And in the 20th century, it was sadly tarred with infamy as the innermost sanctum of the Nazi regime.

The train ride from Vienna to Salzburg was so easy as to be entirely forgettable aside from the verdant alpine scenery. Salzburg is right between Vienna and Munich, so there's no shortage of high-speed commuter trains to choose from.

We were staying in an Airbnb on the outskirts of town, so we took a bus out from the central station. Got to see a glimpse of the city's spectacular Baroque architecture along the way.

Much like our place in Liverpool, our place in Salzburg was a minimally furnished room in a house we'd be sharing with other guests. One improvement was that this room had a proper bunk bed. I offered to take the top bunk, but after a nervous night with me tossing and turning above her--and the fact that one of the top bunk's four support posts came out of joint during the night--Jessica kindly requested that we swap places for the next two nights.

I had to hunt downstairs for the for the wifi router, which was unplugged. Other than that, though, the home was charming if austere. We spent a fair few hours during our stay here at the windowed dining nook, jotting out plans under the gaze of epic mountains.

We had originally planned to spend the afternoon wandering around Salzburg, but neither of us was much condition to follow through. Jessica hadn’t really slept at all the previous night, and I had only done a little better. In the end, it was all we could do to have me walk down the block for food at a local grocery store.

At least the backdrop was spectacular.

Berchtesgaden is a beautiful alpine resort town just across the border into Germany. It is home to some of the rich salt mines that made Salzburg so wealthy, and in the 19th century it became a popular throughout Europe as a destination for tourists and artists.

If an American knows about Berchtesgaden, however, it is probably in relation to Hitler and the Nazis. Hitler adored Berchtesgaden and the surrounding countryside. He finished writing Mein Kampf at a cabin he rented in the area, and later he bought a home in the nearby mountainside of Obersalzberg, which was later colonized by top-ranking Nazi officials wanting to be as close to Hitler as possible. Hitler spent most of his time in office during the 1930s ruling from his home in Obersalzberg.

And the most famous building in the Nazi complex in Obersalzberg is the one Hitler spent the least time at--the Eagle's Nest.

There are plenty of other sights around Berchtesgaden that don’t have to do with that dark chapter in its history. There are the salt mines, the famously beautiful Königssee lake, and innumerable hiking opportunities. But seeing even one of those as well as the Nazi sites would have require a very long day with a very early start. So instead, we slept in and contented ourselves with exploring the town itself.

We had booked spaces on the Rick Steves-recommended Eagle’s Nest Tours, which runs daily four-hour tours from Berchtesgaden starting at 1:00 pm. After a quick breakfast at the station, we caught the #840 bus from Salzburg to Berchtesgaden. We were supposed to arrive at 11:00, giving us an hour for lunch and an hour for wandering the town.

But due to traffic, we didn’t get into town until nearly 11:30. Rather than rush ourselves and risk stressing ourselves out, we decided to just have a nice slow lunch instead. We tried Bacchus wine for the first time, and it was delicious. It is a hybrid grape varietal that was invented by crossing a Sylvaner-Riesling hybrid with a Muller-Thurgau--itself a cross of Riesling and another varietal called Madeleine Royale. It was delicious, combining the richness of Chardonnay with the refreshing fruitiness of a Pinot Grigio.

(Jessica noted the irony of enjoying a hybrid wine in countryside where much of Hitler’s plans for racial purity were conceived and written down.)

Jessica was feeling a bit under the weather, so she only ordered a sausage and a roll. I was hungrier, so I ordered some roasted chicken with French fries. Somehow, though, it took far longer for her sausage to come out than my chicken. Our waiter seemed far more distraught at the delay than we did; he brought us an extra pot of wine on the house as an apology.

The delay did cost us the time we had wanted to spend exploring the town, but it's hard to complain whilst sipping delicious wine in a sunny garden surrounded by paradisaical Alps.

The tour was everything we had hoped for, but we wished it could have gone on even longer. Four hours is really all you can afford to spend on a tour and still have time to catch the last afternoon bus back to Salzburg. We could have easily spent twice as much time there.

After a quick but interesting tour around Obersalzberg--seeing the ruins of former Nazi mansions, as well as local institutions like the Hotel Zum Turken--we stopped at the Nazi Documentation Center. The center provides a brief but chilling account of Hitler’s reign, from its promising start to its horrific reality.

Even with everything we’ve learned about Hitler and the Nazi policies, we still found more things to learn. For example, we knew that people with birth defects would be sterilized or executed. But what we didn’t know was that their entire families could also be sterilized to prevent the risk of them spreading the same inferior genes.

If such a policy had existed in the States, neither Jessica nor I might have ever been born. One of Jessica's uncles on her dad's side was born with a chromosomal disorder, and his whole family would have certainly been sterilized. And Jessica's mom was born with hip dysplasia. Not nearly as serious, but still a defect--one that could have resulted in my grandparents being sterilized and my dad never being born at all.

Also, when the Nazis invaded Eastern Europe, they fully intended from the beginning to exterminate or drive out the existing Slavic population and replace them with Aryan settlements. The mass starvation that gripped the region almost immediately after occupation began wasn’t the result of logistical failures by the German army. Hitler intentionally sent the army in with insufficient food so that they would have no choice but to take the Slavic population’s food and starve them out.

Also, Hitler presented himself as a Bavarian because he wanted to hide his Austrian heritage and most Germans couldn’t tell the difference between a Bavarian accent and an Austrian accent.

Also, the Nazi government awarded women with medals according to how many pure Aryan children they could give birth to.

There were also plenty of examples of anti-Semitic propaganda and a wall of infamy highlighting the life and crimes of all the top-ranking Nazi officials. High among them was Reinhard Heydrich, whom we'd learned about in Prague.

The exhibits are all in German, but there are English pamphlets in each section that cover the highlights, and a massive construction project is underway to expand the center and provide more multilingual exhibits. For some reason, when the German government opened the center in the early 2000s, they didn’t expect it to be of any interest to foreign tourists.

Unfortunately, because of the construction, we weren’t able to enter the underground bunkers that honeycomb the hillsides around Obersalzberg. Still, our guide gave us an interesting overview of the bunker system, how it was developed, and how it was actually used.

The system was never completed, and new areas of it have been discovered as recently as the 2000s. It appears that Hitler had intended for the bunker system to be integrated into a larger system connecting his Obersalzberg compound to Berchtesgaden and even Salzburg, 12 miles away.

Himmler envisioned the bunkers as a last resort in the event that the Allies captured Berlin. Nazi troops could hide in the bunkers indefinitely, carrying on a guerilla war from their mountain redoubt. Hitler didn't like the thought of that, however, and the bunkers were only made to house Hitler and the other Nazi leaders who actually lived in Obersalzberg.

The system is huge and complex, and it was built in less than two years. The Nazis refused to consider the possibility of the compound being bombed until 1943 when nearby Munich was in flames.

Despite their fast construction, the bunkers were apparently well made. When Obersalzberg eventually did get bombed, not a single person who made it into the bunkers was killed. Hitler was even considering plans to retrofit the bunkers to withstand a nuclear bomb–something that at that point hadn't even been invented yet.

Our guide carried a binder of pictures showing what the area looked like during and after the war. She also pointed out a side entrance to the bunker system that's still visible--though not accessible to tourists.

Even halfway up the mountainside, the view was already spectacular.

Looking up, the Eagle's Nest was a tiny shadow up on the peak still high above us.

The only way up to the Eagle's Nest is a road too narrow, steep, and winding for ordinary buses and drivers to traverse. The only way to visit is by taking a special bus driven by specially trained local drivers. The buses run on an extremely precise schedule so that they always cross paths at specific points where the road is wide enough for them to pass each other. You have to buy timed tickets for both journeys before you go up, and if you miss your bus down, you have to wait until the next bus that happens to have an extra seat. And the Eagle's Nest is extremely popular, so you could be waiting a very long time.

On the only-slightly-scary ride up, we were treated to yet more fantastic views of the area, including the nearby Königssee lake and the craggy white mountainside.

And even once you reach the top of the road, you're not done. The last bit is so steep that there are only two options--a long, steep hike or a quick ride in a bronze elevator buried deep inside the mountain. We chose the elevator ride.

I think it's fairly common knowledge--at least among WWII aficionados--that the Eagle’s Nest was mostly just a display piece that Hitler rarely visited and never used his office at. It is even rumored that the Allies intentionally missed it during the bombing of Obersalzberg because they knew it wasn’t strategically important and wanted to be able to take it as a prize.

A common story is that Hitler didn’t like the Eagle’s Nest because he was scared of heights. But our guide dispelled this as a myth. Hitler apparently loved the Eagle’s Nest and visited it over a dozen times in the year following its completion. But it was time-consuming to get to the Eagle's Nest from Obersalzberg, and once the German forces invaded Poland later that year Hitler spent most of his time up in Berlin directing the war effort.

And for that handful of visits, an exorbitant price was paid in both money and blood. Filled with the most luxurious materials and modern conveniences, the house itself cost well over 100 million dollars in today’s money. And that doesn’t cover what it took to build the road.

The road took the better part of a year to build, with two 12-hour shifts working around the clock and through the winter. Several people died during the construction, and countless more suffered crippling injuries. Despite being very well paid, most workers only lasted a few weeks before resigning. And for the  Czechoslovakian laborers conscripted to do the grunt work, that usually meant reassignment to a concentration camp.

Today, the Eagle’s Nest is a fancy restaurant with hardly a mention of its original purpose. Our guide took us into a side room, where she showed us pictures of what the place looked like with its original furnishings.

It isn’t a large building–just a few sitting rooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, and a basement. It doesn’t have any bedrooms and wasn’t meant for living in. Before getting the nickname “Eagle’s Nest” by a visiting ambassador, it was simply referred to as Hitler’s tea house on the mountain.

Outside, we got to walk up onto the summit of the mountain, with spectacular views for miles and miles in every direction. Clouds were starting to come in from the south, creating a very dramatic atmosphere over Königssee.

Because of the crowds and rushed schedule, however, we only had about fifteen minutes to enjoy the summit before having to head back down to the bus for our ride down. On the way, we enjoyed a chat with a young Canadian woman doing her own two-month European journey.

As we left the elevator access tunnel to catch the bus down, we made sure to look for some carvings on the inner doors that our guide had told us about. They were made by 101st Airborne troopers who were occupying the Eagle’s Nest. They had hiked up to the summit and took the building from the top. When they then took the elevator down, they found the doors snowed shut. So they left their mark and headed back up.

Back in Berchtesgaden, we had just enough time to rush up the hill, walk around the old market square for photo ops, then rush back down to catch the last bus of the day back to Salzburg.

We’re glad we did this day trip, but if we visit here again, we’ll definitely try to stay in the town of Berchtesgaden itself. Unless you have a car and can stay as late as you want, there just isn’t enough time to get to the town, see the sights properly, and head back.

Plus, Berchtesgaden is absolutely stunning in its own right. It is an absolute abomination that the Nazis stained it with their touch, and I’m glad that people still flock here for the nature and not just the history. Hopefully, that part of the story will eventually become just an interesting piece of trivia that visitors learn from a plaque when they come here for a hiking trip.

On our last day in Salzburg, we finally visited Salzburg itself.

To be honest, I didn’t have the highest expectations for Salzburg. For American tourists, at least, it seems like it mainly draws two types of people: Mozart fans and Sound of Music fans. And while I don't have anything against them, I'm not especially passionate about them either. And after the imperial majesty of Vienna and the scenic grandeur of Berchtesgaden, I was preparing myself for Salzburg to be a mediocre hybrid of the two.

Perhaps I was just hoping I wouldn't like it so that I wouldn’t feel bad about only getting a single day to see it.

In any case, Salzburg was absolutely charming. A bit like Prague, Salzburg’s Old Town largely escaped damage during World War II, so it retains an authentic medieval feel. But whereas Prague was charmingly chaotic, Salzburg is elegantly organized.

There are winding, shop-lined streets like we’ve seen in any other medieval old town or Gothic quarter. But much of the old town is occupied by a dense network of courtyards between church and government buildings. Which were closely linked throughout much of Salzburg’s history.

From the Middle Ages up until the fall of the Holy Roman Empire to Napoleon, Salzburg was one of several German city-states run directly by Catholic archbishops. Whereas other monarchs of the time often had to balance their political strength against that of the church, these “prince-archbishops” had sweeping authority over the affairs of church and state alike.

We saw the Salzburg Cathedral, which was stunning. The outside is surprisingly plain apart from the western facade, but the inside is magnificently ornamented with beautiful paintings and intricate plaster decorations. At first, we thought that we were seeing painted decorations that only looked three-dimensional–like what we’ve seen in a lot of places across Europe. But no, this was all actual sculpted plaster.

The cathedral’s windows were intentionally designed to keep the nave dark but the main altar brilliantly lit up from large clear windows in the central dome. The effect is extremely impressive.

We also saw this very old baptismal font, which may be the very one that was used for Mozart’s baptism.

In a square on the west side of the cathedral, there is a statue of Mary that if you look at it from the right angle appears to be getting crowned by angels on the cathedral's façade.

From the south cathedral square, there is a fantastic view of the hulking Hohensalzburg Fortress. The foundations are almost a thousand years old, and it is one of the largest medieval castles in all of Europe.

We continued on through the church complex, seeing St. Peter’s Abbey and its cemetery. All of the graves were impressively well maintained, but we soon learned why. In Austria, graves aren’t sold, only rented in ten-year increments. At the end of each period, if no one can be found to pay for the next ten years, the grave is dug up so that it can be used for someone else whose kin can pay. The gravestones of the unfortunately ousted dead are then mounted on the wall of the abbey.

I'm not entirely sure if it was meant as a way to continue showing respect for the dead or more akin to a display of bad checks in a convenience store window.

Lining the cemetery are private gated mausoleums for the most wealthy and respected families.

The church of St. Peter’s Abbey is suitably impressive, with a grand Rococo design. There are some places on the walls and arches where the whitewashing has been removed to expose the colorful frescoes underneath.

Also in the abbey complex, next door to the church, is a fancy restaurant that claims to have served Charlemagne in 803 AD. That would make it the oldest still-operational restaurant in all of Europe, if not the world.

Leaving the abbey complex, we entered the street markets. We picked up some delicious spicy sausages in toasted kaiser rolls. For desert, Jessica got an apricot pastry from one street vendor, and I got a giant pretzel from another.

We saw one of the main medieval shopping roads, the Getreidegasse, which is still adorned with traditional-looking iron symbols over the doors--though most are clearly not medieval.

Getreidegasse is also home to Mozart's birthplace, around which buskers and tourists alike swarmed like flies. We took a few quick pictures and moved along.

And after a quick coffee break, we decided to finish our day with a hike up to the top of the steep hill that divides the city in half. It was a steep climb up stairs and pathways, but the view was worth it.

Even from here, though, the fortress was quite a ways up and a long walking tour once we'd gotten there. Not wanting to exhaust ourselves before a travel day–and knowing that we definitely wanted to return someday–we decided to save the fortress for our next visit and head home for a relaxing evening and plenty of time to pack up for the next day’s trip to Munich.

Next Post: Munich

Last Post: Vienna (The Habsburg Hustle)

[horowitzbekker5-blog]

Release Anything

My story is that an author that 'd done online composing for such dot gones as Themestream, Created By Me, and also The Vines, someone striving to have fiction, poetry and also nonfiction in print for real, suggested PublishAmerica. She claimed it was a conventional publication author. I was struck with their slogan, "We deal with authors the old fashioned method-- we pay them." Had not been that what authors were intended to do? However considering that my novel was simply resting on the DiskUs Posting site and doing nothing but providing me with sufficient loan to acquire a pair of skate laces every three months, I believed maybe it would have a better chance over at PublishAmerica where it would be readily available as a profession dimension book both on and also off-line. So this author, Ellen Du Bois, had a big thing on her Geocities website about publications being available in brick & mortar bookstores & they would certainly have ISBN numbers and also be online and all that things. Additionally had her full dimension publication hide so I rested there for 5 minutes waiting for the damn thing to show up. Not impressive, however she liked it. Ellen was a supporter for her book as well as sent out reviews from a weekly neighborhood cloth and also she bulk e-mailed numerous pieces of correspondence throughout those spirituous days when her book was in prerelease, after that launch phase in the summer of '03. I damaged down and got a copy from Amazon.com-- took virtually 3 weeks to get. And I battled to read all 176 web pages. Tripe. Clichés abounded. Spelling/grammatical errors weren't there at the very least. But the writing was slim. The tale relocated also swiftly. The primary personality was one of the most reasonable as it was probably based on the writer. The discussion was okay. The descriptions were marginal. Had there been an actual editor, the book could've been very good. I wrote to Ellen and told her the positive things about the story, preventing the negatives thoughts. She would certainly been an on-line correspondent for almost two years, yet after I didn't assess her book on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble she didn't contact me. Practically a year later she sent me one more e-mail-- to advertise a publication of her poetry. I was simply somebody to market a book to as well as she was just thinking about the sale and with any luck a radiant write up. A Future PublishAmerica Author Since I 'd currently authorized the agreement with PublishAmerica, I wished to cancel it after reading that trash. Currently my publication would be affiliated with a business that produced almost any piece of creating that came its way. I wasn't expecting a lot what with my dealings with the extinct eNovel and also RJ's digital books, along with a tiny digital book author named Crafts Throughout America where I had not been paid monthly as promised. And my unique as well as narrative collection suffered at DiskUs, residence of the alleged Number One Best selling digital book writer of perpetuity, Leta Nolan Childers. PublishAmerica sent me an author's questionnaire where they requested for basic biographical details; cover art tips, and a lengthy checklist of individuals who could intend to review my upcoming story. " Please prepare a listing (names, and addresses,) of individuals that know you all right to be curious about your success as a writer: personal friends, colleagues, loved ones, etc., to receive a publication announcement ... Please limit your listing and your tags to an optimum of 100 get in touches with. Likewise, please do not consist of companies or companies of any type of kind, consisting of book shops, media contacts, or government companies. Consist of buddies and affiliates just." The editing process of my manuscript took two weeks over the Christmas vacations. LA restaurants had the ability to determine that the very first few pages had actually been read as some minor modifications had been made, yet no adjustments adhered to for another 50 or so web pages. Among the mistakes that happened was plainly the outcome of a spellchecker on the part of PublishAmerica as an enigma appeared after the end of a declaration. I 'd check out of real authors obtaining guidelines to alter phases, change endings, erase various web pages, in other words, really struggle to rewrite a book. Why so much initiative? Names. Track record. The publisher intended to put their name on the most effective high quality book that they had purchased. The writer desired a publication that was salable but additionally well composed as well as something they took pride in. PublishAmerica's editing consisted of neither perfect as all they did was put the computer program's spelling/grammar mosaic right into action. My 2 complimentary writer's copies showed up in very early March as well as it behaved to see my trade paperback publication in print sans a cheesy cover and stapled spinal column. 'North of Sunset' really had good looking stock cover art of a couple of silhouetted palm trees, a noticeable font, and also a spine where the book title, publisher and also writer's name appeared. It would look excellent on book shop racks, I thought of. Testimonials-- What Examines? What was Publish America doing to make sure my book was evaluated? Nothing. I made a decision to get in touch with local everyday and regular papers by e-mailing a press release. The only responses I obtained were two e-mail autoresponders introducing the editors were on holiday. I invested $40 on copies of my book's galley and mailed them to 3 national papers as well as the Collection Journal magazine. Then I phoned a book reviewer at the 'San Diego Union-Tribune' and also asked if he would certainly want evaluating my publication yet prior to I can even describe what it had to do with, he asked who my author was. I told him. "We don't evaluate publications by that author," he mentioned. I called all the regional bookstores and also talked to the managers as well as/ or area relations individuals concerning my book, consisting of a number of shops that were literally situated on the road I 'd blogged about. An independent book shop proprietor told me that because PA really did not have a return policy she was incapable to equip my book. Another said that I can sell my book on consignment. The chain stores of Borders and Barnes & Noble said my publication would certainly be offered with Ingram if any individual selected to order it. Tried getting PublishAmerica to send out testimonial duplicates out and it took them weeks to do so. Had to call as well as make certain on 2 events that guides had actually been sent by mail. Maybe estimating one of their passionate marketers on the message board, an individual with a natural wizard for advertising and the budget plan to back it up, got 3 publications sent out to reviewers. After that I sent my book to Piers Anthony, kept in mind sci-fi as well as dream writer of greater than 100 books. I would certainly been in touch with him considering that 2000 when I notified him to the truth that eNovel was a rip-off. Although the action in his books usually occurred in alternate time periods/universes, he really did not mind checking out a mainstream Hollywood novel. He did so. "North of Sundown by Lisa Maliga. She's the one noted in my Study as I'm a Released Author Ha Ha! Ha!, a pertinent caution for starry-eyed aspiring authors. Her web site www.lisamaliga.com deserves checking similarly; she informs it as it is. If you took a couple of years off my age and altered my sex, the result might appear like Lisa. North of Sunset is fun, regarding a Hollywood manufacturer as well as his temporary secretary, revealing a bargain of what I assume is fact. It is written with the omniscient perspective, which I dislike, however it held my rate of interest no matter. " I would certainly found with a distressed author on the messageboards, which I keep reading occasion, that a person was whining concerning PublishAmerica. Uncovering the Absolute Write History Inspect area I invested several hrs reading, at the time, greater than 40 web pages of problems regarding PublishAmerica. Authors not obtaining books in time for booksignings that they set up themselves. Bookstore owners/managers rejecting to stock their shelves with unedited PublishAmerica titles. Writers not able to obtain their publications assessed. Doing a search on LexisNexis, the respectable on-line legal research study system, for all PublishAmerica publications receiving paper testimonials, I saw that from July 2002 to June 2004, only 24 books had been assessed across the country. Papers in Syracuse NY, Tulsa, OK, Fort Pierce, FL, Wilmington, NC and Lakeland, FL were stood for. Just Salt Lake City's 'Deseret Morning News', the 'Tulsa Globe', 'Pittsburgh Post-Gazette' as well as the suburban paper, the 'Chicago Daily Herald' were in fact major papers. Seemingly, the 'New York Times' or the 'Los Angeles Times' were not evaluating anything by PublishAmerica's authors. According to the PublishAmerica website in the Realities and Figures area, "Fact # 3: Once more, exceptional among all standard publication posting business, each day an ordinary 15 times a PublishAmerica author shows up in the news media, in newspapers, publications, radio or TV." Yet also mathematically tested folks can identify that by using the LexisNexis search stats, we find out that the standard is a puny when a month that a PublishAmerica book gets discussed in a paper somewhere in the United States. Editing-- What's That? Below's a treasure of a post on the PublishAmerica message board: "When it appeared in book develop a month back, my friends discussed the editing and enhancing issues in it, so a buddy of mine with a masters in education and learning went through it for me. It had close to a thousand editing and enhancing errors in a 182-page book. So, have some who really recognizes what literary web content should remain in a book, go through your publication for you before you send the final draft back to PublishAmerica. Due to the fact that the last draft, IS!, just how guide will be when it appears." I discovered that via the misspellings, grammatical mistakes, as well as basic poor writing that practically any person was publishable via the 'standard' author located in Frederick, Maryland. Such posts as: "I also am not the very best editor LOL! I did get my finished books. And when I consulted with a woman that is significant in the advertising and marketing area, she informed me that my publication at it's length of 132 web pages needs to have phases." A couple of PublishAmerica writers reviewed editing and enhancing. "I felt like you did when I found mistakes, yet after that I recognized, hey individuals read it for the tale, not seeking blunders in typo land! LOL Now I just keep a keepin on!" Sales Figures Question: I 'd actually like to recognize the amount of copies I've offered. Solution: Purchase all of guides on your own and afterwards count them. No matter how naïve PublishAmerica authors showed up, they will eventually concern the realization that PublishAmerica isn't really a traditional author, specifically when those twice-yearly aristocracy checks arrived. Every few months or two PublishAmerica sent them an e-mail proclaiming their success, extoling a heavyweight author they're discussing with, or, more just recently, doing a take care of the New York Times. On August 17th, an e-mail bearing the pleased subject heading 'Marketing Our Topsellers in the New York Times' appeared in author's online mailboxes. PublishAmerica was well named because they intend to publish any individual in The United States and Canada who has churned out a manuscript, despite quality. They declare to have anywhere from 9,000 to 12,000 "pleased" writers and also they want more and more of them as that undoubtedly suggests more money for the hoggish owners, specifically Willem Meiner and also Larry Clopper. The PublishAmerica name and logo is seen as a joke to those in the media, bookstores and also collections. Publications can not be returned. All PublishAmerica titles do not have the essential CIP [Cataloging-in-Publication] information, which is essential for collections to buy titles, and also who wishes to check out unedited and overpriced tomes besides the writer's cronies? Oh yep, and also while PublishAmerica asserts that they're a 'typical publisher' why on earth do they have in their major page keyword phrases note the term 'self publishing' three times? As well as in their website's summary, they boast: "PublishAmerica, Inc., a traditional publisher, approving and also publishing manuscripts and books at ON THE HOUSE to the author. Aristocracies paid to authors, books sold in shops. Manuscript submissions by mail and online" In the beginning of September I got a royalty check. To my shock, I was not only able to manage to acquire a set of shoelaces for my skates, I forked over the $12 it set you back to develop my blades. That recognized that this company would offer extra earnings allowing me to continue participating in my recreational skating hobby? Yet it cost me more than the $160 in author-bought publications, the $40 for galleys, which were possibly plunged into a recycling bin, the $87 shade calling card, $20 press release-- as well as the many hrs building and also reconstructing my website so people would take place throughout it and also buy a book that was only available online-- like any various other book. PublishAmerica enables the misconception of being a 'typical' publisher, a term not utilized before the development of the Web, to fester. The lie is perpetrated in those HTML resource codes that search engine spider robots deliver; the future writers led to the guaranteed realm of posting, a net web of woven myths fanning across the online world. PublishAmerica resembles most various other ePublishing companies guaranteeing tales of bestselling publications and authors. PublishAmerica is just another scam, just another future dot gone. If you are a PublishAmerica author, or know of one, that is sadly released and also will certainly tell your story, please get in touch with: Federal Profession Commission attn: CRC - 240 Washington, DC 20580 FTC Consumer Problem Form Frederick County Board of Region Commissioners Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Road, Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1100 Fax: 301-694-1849 www.co.frederick.md.us/BOCC/ John L. Thompson, Jr., President Winchester Hall 12 E. Church Street Frederick, MD 21701 Telephone: 301-694-1028

Fax: 301-631-23 Discuss the following factors: Your publication is not offered in traditional bookstores and collections Your book is not returnable if a bookstore owner/manager must stock it 7-year-long contract is considered in inappropriate amount of time Your book is released by a vanity press You had to pay for your own copyright PublishAmerica will not look for the CIP, which allows it to be acquired by collections PublishAmerica overprices guides PublishAmerica offers a nonstandard price cut PublishAmerica's service version is to offer to their own authors PublishAmerica's books are NOT modified-- absolutely not line-by-line as they claim on their internet site but have actually since admitted that they only edit for grammar as well as spelling PublishAmerica approves about 80% of submitted manuscripts [most authors decline 99% of their submissions] PublishAmerica will just accept charge card orders over the phone when booking for one of their workshops or to purchase your own titles https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7pJcweygAg