#and in true college fashion I am setting up my new computer the night before classes start

[gemsbian]

The difference in college freshmen year vs every other year is astounding. When I was a freshman I wrote out my full schedule with like colored pens that included time, course code, professor, location etc and ordered all my textbooks ahead of time. This year it's like classes start tomorrow and I couldn't tell you where any of them are. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I briefly looked to see what classes required textbooks but whether or not I ordered them is a completely different story. I decided to swap out one of my classes like three days before classes start. Last year I accidentally slept through registration

[airis-paris14]

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[sanchoyo]

danny phantom season 2, ep 12-16 thoughts! these episodes, in comparison to the first 10 or so, felt way more laid back and low-stakes, which I appreciate sometimes. I didn't appreciate how lazy jack's halfa design was in masters of time, it made me so annoyed I redesigned it. 👎🏻 u_u

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-'picking a fight with me and my upgraded form!' 'you upgraded to a mullet?' DANNNNY. YOU CANT SAY THAT TO TECHNUS. YOUVE HAD A MULLET TWICE NOW ('fun' split danny, and evil future danny BOTH HAD THEM). I HAVE THE RECEIPTS.

-danny seeing technus hurting valerie and yelling I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF. SAMEEEE <3

-axion labs is now a part of vladco. FUCK YOU VLAD. hes not even really IN this episode, but just thought I'd throw out a nice fuck you anyway.

-'capable of blasting a single person into space in (2) minutes!' tucker. that would kill someone. i mean yeah they might get to space, but theres NO WAY THEY WOULDNT CATCH FIRE, OR THEIR ORGANS WOULDNT LIQUIFY BECAUSE OF THE STRAIN. THEY'D PROBABLY PASS OUT BEFORE THEN, BUT. ...no, okay, I get why vlad bought this company. this is RIGHT up his alley.

-danny KNOWS VAL DIDNT DO THIS, THAT SOMEONE STOLE THE SUIT. AND SPENDING ALL NIGHT CHATTING WITH HER. <3 and val is a 9TH DEGREE BLACKBELT?? danny's mom is, too!! omg and she hunts ghosts, his parents would love her. and her fav fruit is kumquat bc its a funny word. im so with danny val is amazing. I love her and I Do Not Want To Hear It From Sam.

-I knew danny wanted to be an astronaut, but the bowling tidbit is like. yes give me more useless info abt these characters, I love tiny details that make them feel more human, and im glad hes got hobbies aside from ghost stuff, we dont really see a lot of that!!! (I mean, we knew 'fun' danny from when he split himself in half liked bowling, so obv it makes sense he LIKES it, but hes very GOOD at it. so proud of him, bowling king) val calling him neil armstrong and them teasing each other. LOVE THAT.

-technus you are my favorite grandpa for setting this up. SAM WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CREEPY BE HAPPY FOR YOUR FRIEND!!! STOP SPYING ON THEM!!! who actually cares if technus did 'set them up' together, theyre having fun and enjoy each others company!!! 'you think the universe wants you two to be together?' 'i dunno, but maybe /I/ do!' EXACTLY DANNY!!! SOO TRUE.

-and valerie being happy sam said she wants to try and be happy for them and make room at the lunch table for them. and hugging sam over it. VAL NEEDS MORE FRIENDS.

-VAL GOING AFTER TECHNUS IN HER SUIT WITH (1) MILK, AND (1) TREE BRANCH AND KEYS!!!. I LOVE YOUUUU BEST GIRL. her new suit kicks ass

-dannys like 'HEY IM AN ASTRONAUT :D' AW. ...HES IN SPACE... the fact he's actually intending to give her the ring. with SAMS NAME ON IT?? IM CRINGING DANNY NO. YOU CANT DO THAT...thank god he didnt. thank god valerie cut it off and said they can just stay friends for now. tbh, they both have a lot on their plates!! they obv both still like each other...it can be a future thing!! when she knows about phantom! youre 14 theres no need to rush. I just want her to have friends and be happy :(

-...danny struggles to do (1) pull up. SAME. but all the ghost fighting in phantom form REALLY doesnt carry over at ALL? that sucks

-sam being as fit as she is, is not just a goth. shes a goth jock.

-honey I Shrank Our Kid, One of his Enemies, and his Bully: the episode

-dash's crush on phantom is So Obvious. fitness buddies :) watching them interact always makes me laugh. also, phantom, with PANTS. 'how many costume changes you gonna go through, what is this, vegas??' DASSH DJKSFHASKDF

-MADDIE GOING AFTER THE MOUSE WITH A BROOM, WHAT THE FUCK. AAAH. JUST BUY SOME KIND OF MOUSE TRAP.

-danny likes lime and vinegar chips. which sound very good.

-'our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president!' ...poor danny LMAO

-'what's wrong with beauty pageants' oh tucker you sweet naïve child. what ISNT wrong with them. who approved this for a high school?? (I mean, yes. unfortunately child pageants exist, but...) also danny and tucker once again treating the pretty girls like objects. I need to meet the grown man who wrote this, I just want to talk...

-prince aragon's dragon form reminds me of maleficent (color scheme wise) which is always a bonus. considering the episode is called beauty marked, I feel like the sleeping beauty references are deliberate

-sam with the fake fangs. once again her accessories never miss. hate the 'not like other girls, girls who get sucked into this kind of thing are all shallow and all want to be carbon copies' bs tho.

-sam trying to be the Worst Bride, being rude as shit. DORA IS GOING TO GET KILLED. DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THE PRINCE WILL HAVE HER HEAD IF YOU ARENT THE IDEAL BRIDE. YOU /KNOW/ DANNY WILL COME SAVE YOU. JUST ACT CHILL UNTIL THEN. even if you were doing fine to get him to take off the crown, consider maybe not letting his poor sister get punished also?? sure, she could also take off the crown and has dragon powers, but did you know that for sure?? dora didnt even really realize it until you guys talked!! (or at least, she was scared to stand up to him. you had no guarantee she would...) but. good for dora. ANOTHER friendly ghost to add to the List :)

-tucker is so under appreciated in his time. if he was doing a tech-based campaign today he'd have a better shot. people in 2004 had NO IDEA how much tech would be a part of our day-to-day lives...altho. tbh if you're going to be running for student council president, maybe you should..focus on things to actually improve the school? since he's going for a tech angle, he could say like, he would be running fundraisers for the schools computers to be upgraded, etc? we've already SEEN he can be good at money-making entrepreneur type stuff!!

-oh my god wait. this episode is JUST YUGIOH?????! A REBORN PHAROH USING A TEENAGER AS A VESSEL?? YESSSSSS

-tucker using his new minion to feed him grapes and carry him. AND LOCUSTS ONTO THE BULLIES. I love how when he's possessed, he gains winged eyeliner.

-this episode is giving me big 'plankton makes everyone in bikini bottom his slaves and build monuments of him from the spongebob movie' vibes. and the pharaoh has a traitor who works for him? VERY big yugioh vibes. aknadin confirmed

-I like that danny is still completely exhausted after using ghostly wail. (still patiently waiting on him to get duplication)

-LOVE the fenton's 80s outfits. I get hes 14 and embarrassed by everything they do because theyre his parents, but. cmon, this is one objectively cool thing theyve done. love 80s fashion.

-...was vlad just standing on that streetlight waiting for danny to come out? how'd he know they'd be coming out the back? how long has he been up there???

-oh, wait, his ecto-acne has flareups? that SUCKS. danny was...well I dont want to say he was LUCKY HE HALF-DIED, but he was lucky his was pretty instant (I'm assuming that had to do with the power/scale of the portals being different?) I remember in the ep we met him, vlad made a point of saying he was stuck in a hospital for a long time, so. that really actually sucks and I feel bad. not that it excuses anything he's done...but like. it does suck.

-vlad being so sure danny wouldnt help him he made it somehow contagious to his friends to make sure he'd get help? danny is a nice boy, he wouldve helped if it was anyone else. the only reason he wouldn't have is because of the shit vlad did to him, on purpose. vlad 100% dug his own grave by being the biggest asshole, so it is very hard to feel bad for him.

-clockwork is back!!! and making danny learn lessons The Hard Way. Uhhh, okay. I kind of get Danny’s logic, that time traveling this far back would prevent vlad from becoming a halfa also, ergo no arch nemesis or ectoacne to worry about. But the fact that was basically the first solution Danny came up with to solve this problem is actually so funny. It’s so extreme

-APPRICIATION FOR THESE 80S LESBIAN BG CHARACTERS.

-vlad telling maddie in the lab (in the 80s) he has something he's wanted to tell her 'for a long time'...how long have they known each other? I assumed they met in college, since jack always calls vlad his college buddy/roommate, so jack and vlad for sure met in college, but did vlad know maddie longer? thats surprising if so. Tho we don’t know what year of college they’re in so they could mean they met as freshmen and a few years have past…speaking of maddie shes crushing the 80s look.

-vlad blames jack, but. maybe dont stick your face 2 inches from the portal??! THIS FEELS LIKE LAB SAFETY BASICS. IF SOMETHING HAS POTENTIAL TO BE DANGEROUS, DONT GET NEAR IT. WITH YOUR FACE UNPROTECTED IN ANY WAY. (altho jack didnt really give a Big Warning besides screaming BONZAI. so. also that, but cmon.) also, they need gloves, goggles, and to pull all of their hair back tbh. but fuck lab safety, I guess!

-cryyyyinnng at how lazy they were with jack's ghost form design, its just plasmius' design on jack!!! you couldve given him his own design!!

-there. I did that in about 10 minutes and its somehow less lazy than what made it into the show. embarrassing! better yet, I think the episode would've been better if maddie would've gotten the ectoacne. or maybe its just me, wanting to see her design! anyway. I'm sure people have already done redesigns of them both as halfas. I have to go look after I finish this watch through. Also mildly frustrated jacks resentment and bitterness is basically also a copy paste of vlads backstory. They’re different characters, I really don’t think jack would stew in bitterness and jealousy the same way vlad would!! I also don’t think he’d give up after one time of trying to hunt ghosts and getting laughed at. Our canon timeline says different…I dunno, I get it was for laughs, but I’m annoyed because the POTENTIAL this plot has…

-did vlad really wear a stupid cheese hat to his wedding. ok actually that kinda rules. and the cheese door knocker. the dairy-only buffet table. vlad still got rich, just on being the New Dairy King. (Assuming that means he owns a lot of dairy businesses?) ok! this actually is great. hope maddie isn't lactose intolerant!

-'no matter how hard I tried, I could never get rid of my ghost half, the half I knew Maddie could never accept' ohh, ouch, what a horrible thing to say to her HALF GHOST SON. 'YOUR MOM WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU' BASICALLY.

-maddie strapping danny to the table with a lazer pointed at him in a secret lab she keeps from vlad that she makes a point of saying is sound proof so he can scream all he wants...CHRIST. DANNYS POOR PYSCHE.

-also, not to feel bad for alternate vlad (because, he did lie to maddie saying jack blames her and never wants to see her again...) but. being married to a woman 20+ years and she immediately goes back to jack? if she didnt love vlad and feels like she had to hide shit from him, and says she wasted her best years with him, WHY MARRY HIM. it feels like leading him on!!! cannot believe im feeling bad for vlad, but. this alternate timeline vlad is significantly Less Horrible than Our Vlad. did she not think she'd get funding for her ghost stuff? (which, fair assumption since they're considered 'ghost fanatics/nuts in canon...but...) why did she think jack or vlad would be her ONLY OPTIONS? be like your sister. be single. Actually, this au could’ve been really interesting if after the accident, vlad lied to her and said jack never wanted to see her again, but she stays single. Imagine how much that would bug vlad… like, in her mind, it was never a competition it was jack or no one type situation…

-danny being like 'leave him ALONE' this jack is a HOMEWRECKER, DANNY. let them go to court and settle this at the least. ...or just throw vlad into the portal. (100% human, defenseless vlad) CHRIST, MADDIE THATS BRUTAL. THATS MURDER.

-danny seeing his mom immediately accepting him and his dad being half ghosts in this universe, if I was him this would be a great sign that his universe's maddie would also.

-*maddie voice* "clockwork will help!" *2 seconds later, with clockwork* "I will Not Help." TOUGH LOVE KING. YES LET DANNY SEE THE SODA HIMSELF AND DEVOLP BETTER OBSERVATION SKILLS.

-when clockwork ""reset time to the way it was"" just before danny "meddled"" ...did he really erase a whole alternate timeline? ...damn. because maddie and danny both called it an alternate timeline by name, it splitting when the college incident went different, so it wouldnt have really mattered if he reset it, right. like because danny's timeline is on a different stream? why didnt clockwork just. show danny a replay and not Reset That Timeline. wh...I wonder how many people that Erased From Existence. Anyway! once again stating clockwork is casually terrifying!

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

 --------------------------------------

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

[lilacmoon83]

Lightning in a Bottle

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 7: Follow the Music

Olive finished the climb and her big brother clapped his hands, as she climbed down.

"That was great...you're going to be ready for the big climb this summer in no time," he complimented her.

"Thanks," she said distractedly.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"It's fine, Lance…" she answered too quickly. He sighed.

"Olive…" he prodded. She rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine...really good actually. And my Mom is...well, over the moon is probably under selling it," she said. The man smiled thinly.

"That's good...I'm happy for her. But how are you doing with having your dad back?" he asked.

"And your brother, who is now five years younger than you," he added. She sighed.

"It's great...but just weird," she admitted.

"Olive…" he prodded.

"Okay...I sort of told my Dad I couldn't spend time with him, because I wanted to do this with you instead. And now…" she lamented.

"You're feeling guilty," he surmised. She nodded.

"Olive...if your Dad is the guy that you and your Mom have told me he is...then I don't think he'll hold this against you," Lance said.

"I know he won't," she agreed.

"He's a very lucky man to have you...and your Mom," he said, with a note of sadness in his voice. Now she felt even guiltier. At one time, she had hoped her mom might move on with him and now she was glad that she didn't. She felt badly for him, because she knew he still liked her Mom and had been holding out hope.

"It's nothing you did, you know," she blurted out.

"Mom...she just could never move on and it wasn't you," Olive said. He smiled.

"I know...what she and your Dad have seems pretty special," he replied. Olive hoped that he would move on and find someone too.

"Ready for another climb?" Lance asked. She nodded and attached her harness again, ready for more practice.

~*~

David came out of the unemployment office that afternoon. He had a few leads and had submitted his resume to several colleges and Universities already. For now though, he was going to go home and browse the market for something he wouldn't hate entirely in the meantime. Suddenly, he heard that same music that he had heard earlier that morning. He followed it, until he heard it coming from a small, makeshift kiosk among a few others near Time Square. It looked old fashioned and he noticed many wood carvings. There were also some modern items too and there were signs advertising repairs for things like small appliances and antiques alike. But most remarkably, he recognized this man as someone who was on the plane and at the hanger last night.

"Excuse me...but what is that music?" David asked. The man showed him a small music box.

"I made it for my boy...when he was very small. He loved it and always had it with him...but he cannot have it where he is now," the man cried.

"Where is he?" David asked.

"Prison...but he didn't do what they said he did!" the man exclaimed. David furrowed his brow and for some reason, couldn't bring himself to walk away.

"Tell me about it...maybe I can help," he said. The man's eyes widened.

"You would do that?" he asked. David smiled.

"There has to be a reason that I heard that exact music in my head this morning and I know what my wife will tell me when I tell her. I'm David Nolan," he introduced himself.

"Marco Booth...you will really help me?" he asked in surprise.

"I'll try," David said, as Marco began to explain his son's situation.

~*~

Emma closed the file and saved her work on her computer. She had finally gotten through the mountain of paperwork from the rescue of those two girls. She felt a shadow on her though and looked up to see a woman giving her a cold look. She sighed, vaguely recognizing her as Milah. Milah Rogers.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"So...it's really true," Milah mentioned.

"Yeah…I'm getting that a lot lately," Emma said, as she turned to face her.

"Let me guess...you're here to warn me to stay away from Killian," she replied.

"I...I just need to know if I have anything to worry about," Milah said.

"Not from me...he chose you," Emma replied.

"Only because you were gone," Milah countered.

"Yeah...well, I didn't choose to be gone, so I don't know what you want from me. But I'm not after your husband," Emma assured.

"He hasn't gotten over you...not really," she whispered.

"That's not my problem. I didn't ask for any of this, but I have to deal with it. So do you," Emma replied, as she got up, got her things, and left for the day.

~*~

Margaret held her son's hand, as they exited the toy store.

"Wow...thanks Mom. This is great!" he said, as he admired his new Lego set.

"Well...I know how boring the treatments get so I thought we could get you a new set to play with," she said.

"Is Dad meeting us at the hospital?" Henry asked. She nodded.

"He'll be there and then maybe we'll get Ollie and have a spaghetti night," she suggested.

"And board games?" he asked. She smiled.

"Of course...your Dad and I can smoke you two in Monopoly," she teased.

"That's so unfair. You and Dad do know that Monopoly isn't a team player game, right?" Henry teased back. She chuckled.

"True, but with this family, everything is a team effort," she said, as she noticed a woman that they were passing on the street stop and looked at them in awe. It got scarier, as she followed them and put her hand on Henry's shoulder.

"He is risen!" she cried out.

"He is risen!" she called out louder. Margaret pulled her son away from the crazy woman's grip and tried to ignore all the stares now that this woman had drawn attention to them.

"Mom…" Henry said.

"Just keep walking quickly, sweetheart," she said, as she hurried him to the car.

"He is risen!" the woman called again.

"Why is that woman saying that? Is it because of the plane?" Henry asked, as she made sure he was buckled in, before putting the car in gear and driving away.

"I think so...some people are getting crazy over this, honey. That's why your Dad and I want you to never go anywhere by yourself...at least not yet," she told him, as she took a deep breath, just as she knew her husband would tell her to do in these situations. Panic attacks were nothing new to her. She'd been having them since her mother died and up until the last five years, David or Emma had always been there to talk her through them. When they were gone, Ollie got her through them, but Margaret hated leaning on one of her children like that.

"Deep breaths, MM...copy my breathing," she could hear him in her head and she slowly calmed down for the moment.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Henry asked. She gave him a smile.

"I'm fine honey...let's go get your treatment done for the day," she said, as she made a turn that would take them to the hospital.

~*~

"So...you went to Jamaica five years ago to do a job?" David asked. Marco nodded.

"I fix very old things and antiques. Everything here is so modern now and computerized. But in other parts of the world, there are still places where skills like mine are sought after. It was a payday that was going to set me and my boy for a while," he explained.

"But then the plane disappeared," David said. He nodded.

"My boy, he was only thirteen, and went into the foster system. But he is a good boy! He got a job and was saving money to open his own repair shop. My boy...he knows how to fix anything, even all the new fangled contraptions!" Marco boasted. David smiled.

"You have children," Marco said knowingly.

"Twins...or they were. Henry was on the plane with me. Olive came home with her mother and she's a teenager now," he replied.

"Then you know...you know what this is like," Marco said. He nodded.

"I do...let's head over the jewelry store where he worked. Maybe we can find something out there and then...I'll call my sister. She's NYPD. Maybe she can get us into Rikers, but no promises," David replied. Marco shook his hand profusely.

"Oh thank you...thank you!" he exclaimed. David patted him on the back and they made the short walk to the jewelry store on the next block.

On the window of the store, there was red writing that stated "Going out of Business." They walked in and saw what they assumed was the owner and a young man.

"Excuse me...we're here to talk to you about August Booth," David interjected.

"You mean the little punk that has run me out of my business?" the shop owner snapped.

"Please...he is my son and I know he did not do this," Marco pleaded.

"Yeah sure...just get out," Mr. Valero snapped, as he went into the back room.

"You have to forgive my father...this business was his life. I'm his son Blake," he said, introducing himself.

"Then you worked with August," David deduced.

"Uh yeah...he was a good guy or so I thought. Hard worker...but then this happened," Blake replied.

"My August is a hard worker and he did not do this!" Marco repeated.

"I'd love to believe that, but the evidence doesn't lie. We caught him using a fake ID to get hired on and there was no break in," Blake argued. David nodded, knowing they weren't going to get any further here.

"Thank you for your time," David said, as he led Marco out.

"What am I going to do?" Marco asked in despair.

"Let me call my sister. It might help if we get August's side of the story," David suggested, as he dialed.

"Hey Em...I need a favor," he said.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I'm trying to help another passenger. His son is in Riker's and he's innocent," David replied.

"Do you know how many guys in Riker's are innocent, David?" she asked in exasperation.

"Em...please, the kid was just thirteen when the plane disappeared. Can't you at least see if we can get his father in to see him?" he asked. He heard her sigh.

"I literally just got my badge back today, but I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Thanks Em," he said, as he hung up the phone. While they waited, they left the jewelry shop and walked across the street. David bought them two coffees and they sat down on a bench. He got a text and Marco was clearly anxious.

"Is that her?" he asked.

"Oh no...it's my wife," he said, as he quickly texted back.

"She was with you last night...she was not on the plane," he mentioned. He smiled.

"She wasn't...but she supports me in everything and we do everything together," he replied, with a scoff.

"Except the plane. I stayed behind with my sister, because she was trying to squeeze out a couple more hours away from home. But Margaret...with her, it was like falling right back into place without even skipping a beat," he said.

"You are a very lucky man...you have a beautiful family," Marco replied, as he saw the picture of the four of them on his lock screen. David smiled.

"I am...and that's why I'm going to do what I can to reunite you with yours," he promised, as Emma texted him back.

"She got us in," he said, as they stood up.

"Let's go," David said, as he led him to his car.

~*~

Margaret smiled, as she talked to her husband on the phone, while Henry was having his treatment.

"You don't have to apologize, my love. I am so glad you are helping this man visit his son. Your son is just fine and will be happy that his dad is helping others in need," she assured him.

"I still can't believe how lucky I am. I tell you that I heard music in my head and it led me to another passenger and the word crazy never crossed your lips," he said.

"And it never will. You're such a good man and helping this man is the right thing to do," she replied.

"I feel that too...but I should be home in time for dinner. Want me to pick something up?" he asked.

"No, that's okay. I promised Henry spaghetti and board games," she replied. She could hear him smile through his words.

"That sounds amazing. I'll pick some ice cream up on the way home to go with it and then you'll tell me what happened with you today? Henry texted me about some weird lady?" he asked.

"Oh yeah...I was going to text you about that too, but I think it's better explained in person," she said.

"You're okay though?" he asked. She smiled.

"I'm fine, promise," she assured.

"Okay...I'll see you tonight. I love you so much," he said.

"I love you too, be careful," she replied, as they hung up the phone, just as she saw Emma come in.

"Hey...I wasn't expecting to see you until tonight. How was your first day back?" Margaret asked.

"Stupid," Emma grumbled, as she collapsed into a chair beside her.

"Oh no...what happened?" Margaret asked.

"Well, I got cleared for duty and Graham decides that it's a good idea to make me Killian's partner," Emma replied. Margaret winced.

"That has to be awkward," she agreed.

"Yeah...and I'm not the only one that thinks so. I got a visit from Milah," she said.

"Oh my Gosh...why?" she asked.

"Why do you think?" she asked in return.

"She thinks Killian's feelings for you are still there and now that you're back...she feels threatened," Margaret deduced.

"Yup…" Emma replied.

"What did you tell her?" Margaret asked.

"I told her that she doesn't have to be worried about me. He married her," Emma replied.

"And she accepted that?" Margaret asked. Emma snorted.

"Of course not...that would make my life easier," she joked.

"Em…" Margaret prodded. The blonde sighed.

"She implied that he probably only chose her, because I was gone. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?" Emma asked. Margaret squeezed her hand.

"I don't know, sweetie...I can't imagine the position you're in. I wish I could do more for you," she said. Emma smiled at her and rested her head on Margaret's shoulder.

"You do...you're always here for me," she replied.

"Always," Margaret said.

"Since I was six...wow, that's wild," Emma replied. Margaret giggled.

"That was a day...I'm surprised you remember it. You were so little," Margaret said.

"You were too, but then you met David that day too so I know you remember it," Emma teased. Margaret smiled, as she bit her bottom lip and recalled the memories of that day with fondness.

~*~

"Please…" Emma whined, as she gave her older brother puppy eyes and he sighed.

"Fine, one more time. But I'm getting tired, Emmy," David said, as he lifted her up one more time. She grabbed the monkey bars and he walked her across them, while she moved her hands. He put her down and they ran over as their mother called them. They noticed she was talking to another woman and a little girl, which made them curious.

Mary Margaret clung to her mother's leg, as they arrived at the playground. This was not their normal neighborhood, but Eva didn't like the playgrounds in their rich, uppity neighborhood. The children that played there were not being instilled with the values that she wanted her little girl to have. She didn't want her daughter growing up thinking that money and class were what mattered most about a person, so they ventured out today to the neighborhood where Eva had grown up instead.

"It's okay snowdrop...there's lots of other children that will love playing with you," she assured her shy daughter.

"She is darling…" another woman mentioned from a bench and Eva smiled.

"Oh thank you...I'm Eva and this is Mary Margaret, my pride and joy," she said. Ruth smiled at the tiny raven haired girl.

"Hello Mary Margaret...that's such a beautiful name. I'm Ruth. Those two are mine," she said, as she pointed at the two blonde children.

"They're beautiful too. We are hoping this playground will be better than the last one," Eva said.

"Oh I'm sure mine would love to play with Mary Margaret," Ruth said, as she called them over.

"David...Emma, this is Mary Margaret," Ruth said.

"Hi…" David said, a bit shyly.

"Hi…" Mary Margaret said, also shyly.

"Hi...I'm Emma. Your name is pretty, but long. Can I call you MM?" Emma asked.

"Uh...sure," Mary Margaret replied.

"Wanna do monkey bars with me?" Emma asked, as she took her hand and dragged her onto the playground. Eva chuckled and sat down beside Ruth.

"I'm not big enough to do monkey bars," Mary Margaret said.

"Me either. David helps me sometimes," Emma replied.

"Uh...yeah I can help you," David chimed in and she smiled.

"Okay," Mary Margaret said, as he lifted her up so she could reach the bars.

"I thought you said you were tired," Emma complained.

"Well, I'm not anymore," he retorted in annoyance, as he helped Mary Margaret with the monkey bars.

~*~

They chuckled at the memories.

"He was already smitten," Emma teased.

"Well, he wasn't the only one. I mean that curly blonde hair he had and the baby muscles...oooh…" Margaret gushed.

"Yeah, yeah I do not need to hear stories about my brother's muscles," Emma complained, as her phone rang.

"It's the station...I gotta take this," Emma said, as she stepped away. Margaret smiled and relished all the memories they had, as she waited for her son's treatment to be over for the day.

[fereality-indy]

Firstly (Pt 2)

Flashback To Earlier In The Evening

"And that does it!" Dipper says as he pulls away from the computer McGuket built for him when he headed to college, "The last bit of editing is done and it looks great."

"I hope so, it's one fifth of our final grade." Tambry said from the chair next to him.

"It will, Tambs. Between your great camera work and the editing we've done..." Dipper said as he turned to look at his violet haired roommate.

"Geez, Dip. I'm messing with you, dork." She said as she pulled him into a hug.

"Hmm, am I interrupting something here?” Wendy said from the door more than a few moments later.

Tambry practically jumped out of her skin as she backed out of the hug. “What? No!”

“We got our project finished.” Dipper said as if he hadn’t noticed Tambry’s action.

“I could tell, there wasn’t any grunts and groans coming from in here.” Wendy teased, watching Tambry blush frantically.

“Well there really wasn’t too much physical effort to be done on it, mostly editing and computer work.” Dipper said seemingly oblivious to the true intent of the comment.  

“We should do something to celebrate.” Wendy said as she joined them in the small room.

“Well I have been working on a new D, D, & More D adventure.” Dipper replied. When he noticed a lack of an enthusiastic response from the girls he added “Or we could do a movie night.”

“We’ve got a movie night planned for tomorrow. How about going out and getting some Chinese?” Wendy suggested as she placed an arm around Dipper’s shoulder.

“Well a guy in my film theory class told me about a party his roommate is throwing tonight. I told him I’d think about it but I had other plans, mostly working on this project. But since we got it done, I kinda feel like partying.” Tambry said as she watched them doing that standing snuggle some couples do. Maybe she could find someone who could distract her from them for a little bit.

“You know what, Chinese sounded good but we haven’t partied since your birthday.” Wendy said as she gave him a playful lil squeeze “How about it, Dip?”

“Sounds good, but I’m driving.” He replied as he kissed her cheek, “Just in case there’s alcohol.”

“Always the responsible one, dork.” Tambry said as she poked him in the forehead. She then headed out of the room saying, “I’m gonna go get out of these sweats and toss on something a lil more party appropriate.”

When came out she was wearing black jeans and a light purple spaghetti strap camisole. Dipper was still in his grey jeans, but had tossed on a Weird Al tee and a blue flannel. And Wendy was still in her green flannel and jeans.

The ride to the party was uneventful, well except for some DJ on the college’s radio station trying to bring ‘Straight Blanchin’ back to popularity which cause Wendy and Dipper to chuckle a little bit. Once they arrived at the party, it was pretty much what they expected. They saw a few classmates they recognized and talked for a bit, but mostly Dipper and Wendy hung out by themselves. At first Tambry was with them for a bit, but she eventually made her way through the crowd gregariously. Dipper had just excused himself to hit the rest room when Wendy saw Tambry working her way back to them with a guy she didn’t recognize in tow.

“Hey guysh. This is Leon, Leon these are my roommatesh.” Tambry said as they walked up. It was evident that the drink in her hand was not the first she had had tonight, though Wendy had known her long enough to know that she was playing it up for some reason. “Wait a minute, where’s Dip?”

“Sup. Nice to meet you.” Wendy said as she gave the guy a once over. He was definitely not the type her friend usually went for. He looked somewhat like a nerd who had tried to dress preppy by following his mother’s ‘They’ weekly magazine on the latest fashion trends. She wasn’t real sure she liked this guy and not for the usual reasons she didn’t like her friend’s dates. Something was just off here. Turning her attention back to Tambry, she tossed her thumb up towards the back of the house and said, “Dip had to hit the head. Too many cans of Pitt.”

“Ah.” Tambry said with a nod of her head, then she continued. “Leon here ish in my poli-sci clash. He always hash the clash notesh if you need them.”

Leon looked like he was about to add something to the conversation when a big, meaty hand landed on his shoulder. It belonged to an equally big and bulky bruiser. He was almost as tall Wendy and mostly muscle.  

“Hey Leon, I’ve been looking all over for you man.” The big guy said as Leon turned towards him.

“Oh, hey Rodney. What’s up man?” Leon asked looking up at the bigger guy.

“Not much, just checking on my roomie. Should’ve known I’d find you with a beautiful young lady or two.” Rodney said as he looked over at Wendy and Tambry, "You gonna introduce us?”

“Oh, yeah. Ladies, this is my roommate Rodney.” Leon said as he motioned his way, turning towards the girls he added “And Rodney, this is Tambry and her roommate, umm, I don’t think I caught your name yet.”

“It’s Wendy. Nice to meet you guys.” Wendy replied as she tried to look around the two to see if Dipper was on his way back yet. She was really not liking these guys for some reason and she was thinking that between the two of them that they could talk Tambry into leaving.  

“Hey Leon,” Rodney said, catching Wendy’s attention, “I thought I taught you better than this.”  

“Huh?” Leon replied craning his neck at his friend.

“The ladies’ drinks are empty.” The big guy said with a wave of his hand in the general direction of Wendy and Tambry’s cups, “Be a gentleman and go get them a refill.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” Wendy said at the same time that Tambry said “Thanksh, I’ll take another one.”

“You sure?” Leon asked as he started to pick up Tambry’s cup. Tambry flashed her a quick puppy dog pout and so Wendy relented with a nod. As Leon left to get the drinks Rodney started in on the importance of a proper diet to exercise.

Dipper was walking back from the bathroom when he noticed this preppy geek dropping two pills into a set of drinks he had just filled from the party’s main keg. He was just about to confront the jerk, when he quickly righted himself and briskly started back through the throng of the party. He decided to just confront him in font of his intended victims. He just hoped Wendy would be able to see him if things went south and he needed her help.  

He caught up with the gaudy geek as he handed the rinks off to the girls. Quickly he called out, “Wendy! Tambry! Don’t drink those, he dropped something in them.”

“And you,”  Dipper said as he grabbed Leon by the shoulder and turned him around roughly, “It’s bad enough that you were trying to roofie someone, but you royally fucked up trying to do it to my girls.”

Leon attempted to punch Dipper, but he dodged. That was when Dipper threw a right cross that would have made Stan proud if he had seen it and Leon fell to the floor. The next thing anyone knew Rodney punched him so hard Dipper lifted off the floor almost a good foot high. Before he could get another punch in, Wendy tackled him. Tambry had fished out her phone and began dialing nine-one-one.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Wendy yelled as she proceeded to rain punches down on Rodney.

Two more guys about the size of Rodney rushed out of the crowd and tried to join in the fight. Dipper had regained his footing by then. Tambry noticed that he had shifted his right leg so it was pulled back. As the first guy made it to him, Dipper slammed his right knee into his breadbasket. As he started to fall back Dipper continued the move by snapping his foot out and catching him under his jaw. Wendy Met the other guy with a kick that caught him at the knee. As he started to go down she grabbed his head and forced it onto the floor. Rodney attempted to get back up, but Tambry busted a vase over his head. By the time the cops arrived the four jerks were tied up waiting on them. Leon ended up spilling the beans after the cops found enough pills on them to knock out half the party.

And Now We Return To The Present

“Tambry, you don’t have to fuss so much over me. I’ve taken worse shots breaking up gnomish bar fights.” Dipper said as Tambry finished checking the bruise on Dipper’s stomach. “Besides, I’m more worried about Wendy’s knuckles. That big guy’s face seems to have given them quite a beating.”

“You scoff, but they are a little sore.” Wendy replied with a chuckle.

Dipper noticed these attempts at humor did not seem to be amusing Tambry, “Are you ok, Tambry?”

“Yeah, I’m goo…” She started before seeing the worried look on her friends’ faces, “You two aren’t buying that are you?”

“Nope.” Wendy replied with a smirk as she placed a hand on her shoulder, “Spill.”

“You know we’re here for you.” Dipper added as he placed a supportive hand on her other shoulder.

She looked at the floor for a moment, savoring the contact before she started. “I’m so sorry guys. Going to that party was my idea. And because we went, you two got hurt.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was a good thing that we were there. If we hadn’t been, who knows what those four would have gotten up to. We saved someone from having the worse night of their life. ”  Wendy said as she pulled Tambry into a hug.

“Yeah, this was a good night in my book.” Dipper added as he joined the hug.

“I do have to say, it seems like you sobered up quite quick.” Wendy remarked after they broke the hug.

“Oh, well. I wasn’t really as drunk as I seemed. I only had the one drink before I ran into Leon. But he always seemed like he was the type who didn’t think a cute girl would talk to him, let alone dance with him, so I played it up a little bit to boost his ego.” Tambry explained as she sat down in the center of the apartment’s couch.

“But why?” Wendy asked as she joined Tambry on the couch. She had one leg under her as she sat facing her friend.

“I dunno. He was there.” Tambry replied as she picked up her phone and began absentmindedly fiddling with it, “I was lonely. I mean, yeah. I’m always here with you guys, but I feel like a third wheel some of the times. I guess I was just feeling a little jealous and wanted someone to show me some attention.”

“Wait. Why?” Dipper said as he joined the girls on the couch. And then in a voice that didn’t have any of the confidence he had shown earlier he added, “You don’t have to feel that way. I mean, you know you’re not a third wheel. Right?”

Tambry chuckled at how much he sounded like he did that first summer, “Well you two are the couple, I’m just the camera woman.”

"What. No. You mean so much more than that to us.”  Dipper stammered out.

“What Dip, is trying to say is that we’ve never thought of you as just our camera woman. You are one of us. We care deeply for you.” Wendy said. She scooted a little closer to Tambry as she continued, “For the longest time we’ve wanted to talk to you about it, but we were afraid you would reject the idea and so we were content on just keeping our friendship.”

“Wait, is that what you meant when you told Leon that he 'royally fucked up messing with your girls’?”  Tambry asked Dipper.

“Uhm, well, yeah.” He replied rubbing the back of his head, “I mean, I know no one person ever belongs to another. But you two are two of the most important people in the world to me. If something had happened to either of you, I don’t think a even a gremgoblin would want to face me.”      

“You mean it don’t you?” Tambry asked as she looked between the couple. Here she was between the two people she had been crushing on for the last couple of years and they both seem to actually be into her too.

“Yeah, we do.” Wendy said as she gently placed a hand on Tambry’s shoulder.

“And we completely understand if you don’t feel the same way.” Dipper added with a smile that practically melted Tambry’s heart right there. “We just had to get it out in the op…”

He was unable to finish as Tambry pulled him into a kiss and he nearly melted there on the spot.

“Well I guess we have our answer.” Wendy said as she watched her boyfriend being kissed by, well, their new girlfriend.

When Tambry released Dipper she turned back towards Wendy and said “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”

She then leaned forward and gave Wendy a kiss.

After they separated and Tambry had caught her breath she said “You guys don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Well then, let’s not wait too long to do it again.”

[ink-flavored]

11/11/11 Game (Triple Threat)

Tagged by @multimousenette​ and @bogbodybitch​ and @nectareouswrites​! Thanks!

I’ll put my questions at the top here so you don’t have to scroll through 33 questions lmao

Questions

Do you like to cook or do you prefer going out?

How meticulous do you like to get in your world building?

How do you relax when you’re stressed?

Do you have a creative hobby outside of writing? What is it?

Luck or chance?

Is there something that you’ve decided to keep in your WIP(s) even after someone told you to get rid of it? 

What’s your battle music?

What are you most proud of yourself for?

What’s your favorite dinosaur?

What would you grow on a farm?

Blood family or found family? 

Tagging: @royalbounties @rainy-rose @aesopsrachaels @purpleshadows1989 @frankensteinn @shadeshadow234 @startroubled @farrradays and anyone else who wants to!

Alright. Now comes the doozy.

1.      What’s your preferred writing and reading genre?

Fantasy for both, though I like to read a lot of different genres

2.      What’s your favorite thing about your least favorite character?

Least favorite is tough. The character I’ve been having the hardest time writing recently is General Zhai from The God-Dragon’s Wife, mainly because I haven’t solidified her motivations yet, but if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she takes no shit. Which is very difficult for me, because she isn’t taking my shit either.

3.      What’s your least favorite thing about your favorite character?

Again with the favorites! Teconia is fun to write, but I feel bad about making bad things happen to her and making her sad. She gets sad a lot and then I feel guilty. Stop doing that.

4.      Which of your characters do you feel most indifferent towards? Why?

Right now, it’s Park. I don’t think we’d be friends if he was a real person (robot?) because our values are so misaligned, but he’s not a bad guy.

5.      Which of your projects means the most to you and why?

Firesoul, no doubt. It’s been an idea I’ve had since I first started writing, and the fact that I’ve been continuing to write it after all these years is a huge deal for me (i.e. a person who comes up with ideas and then abandons them forever)

6.      Is there a theme that can be found in all of your projects? Was it intentional or dd you realize after the event?

Usually there’s a theme of overcoming – whether that’s overcoming self, overcoming oppression, or overcoming adversity. I don’t do it intentionally, but I think it’s definitely informed by experiences in my life, so it would feel odd to not have it.

7.      What’s your favorite book to read? Does it have any similarities to your any of your writing projects?

The Inheritance Cycle is my favorite book series of all time and it absolutely informs my writing style. I’ve read the first book, Eragon, eight times, and seven of those times was before I turned 16. I’d be shocked if it didn’t.

8.      What have you learnt while writing that you hope everyone knows?

That I can write whatever I want, and someone will like it, even if it’s not the someone I thought would like it.

9.      What’s your biggest strength in writing?

Description, for sure.

10.  What about your weakness?

Too much description.

Seriously, though, it’s plot structure. I suck at that, and I’m awful at outlines.

11.  How many questions do you answer on character profile sheets when creating new characters?

I try to shoot for all of the ones that apply! But I don’t do a lot of character sheets so…

12.  What do you love most about your writing?

I love my worlds and settings. I pour blood, sweat, and tears into them, and I think it really pays off.

13.  What’s your favorite type of character to write?

Smart dumbasses, people who Can’t Handle Feelings, and people who Have Too Much Feelings. I have no middle ground.

14.  What inspires you to write?

Life. That’s probably the most cliché answer on the planet, but I’m very informed by the things I believe and the experiences I have. Even my horror pieces (short as they are) come from places of feeling helpless in my own life, struggling with an undiagnosed anxiety and panic disorder for most of my life.

15.  If you could talk to your protagonist, what advice would you give them?

I would gently hold Park’s metal robot face in my hands and tell him to Stop Taking All Responsibility For Everything. Good God. It’s not all about you, all the time.

I would tell Xinya that it’s okay to feel emotions sometimes. Yes, even that one.

I would tell Teconia that trusting people isn’t always a good thing.

I would tell Hayden that he is capable, no matter what he tells himself.

16.  If you had to do an escape room with one of your characters, who would you choose and why?

Park is a robot and therefore would be very logical about all possible solutions. This could either be a great thing or a terrible thing, but I’ll take my chances with the guy with a computer for a brain.

17.  How did you come up with the plot for your current wip(s)?

The God-Dragon’s Wife is inspired by a (perhaps not astoundingly written) fanfiction I read and said “Psh. I can do that.” That, and my deep held desire to marry a dragon.

Firesoul came to me at an audition for a role in my dance company’s annual Christmas show. I heard this epic, haunting music, and had a vision, essentially, of a scene from the book. Teconia herself is literally a D&D character that I liked so much I gave her a book.

Out of the Park is inspired from way back when I used to regularly play Overwatch, and my main, Zenyatta, had a skin release that was a baseball team. The rest is history/

Dragon Raising actually started as a novel that I never did anything with, because something always felt off about the delivery. When I took a comic writing class in college, everything clicked at once.

18.  What’s one line/paragraph you’ve written recently that you’re proud of?

This is from a submission for a prompt month in a fandom I’m in:

Yugi didn’t believe in ghosts. It was fun to think about, sure, but he’d never seen any “real” evidence to support the idea. His friend Ryou claimed otherwise, but they’d long since learned to agree to disagree on the subject. Of course, they were both partial to a good scare – his second favorite genre for anything was horror – and they could talk about the coolest ghost stories they’d heard for hours. Still, he had never latched on to the idea of the “soul persisting after death.” It was ridiculous, for a lot of reasons. The idea of a ghost in his house – in anyone’s house – was almost laughable.

But he didn’t have a lot of other ideas to explain this.

19.  Do you ever draw concept art for your writing?

I can’t draw, but if someone made me art of my WIPs, I would die LITERALLY for them.

20.  What do you like most about one of your protagonists and what do you like least about them?

Xinya is a powerful woman. She’s capable and smart and will kick your ass in chess. But she’s so emotionally constipated it’s actually painful for me.

Teconia is kind, strong even if she doesn’t know it yet, and loyal to her friends and family. But she refuses to use her strength until it’s too late, which is frustrating for a lot of reasons.

Park is a dumbass. This is both the reason I love and hate him.

Hayden can do remarkable things, but he never gives himself credit for them.

21.  What’s the setting of your current wip(s) and why did you choose it?

TGDW takes place in a fantasy Imperial China, which I chose because I am so sick of Fantasy Medieval Europe #4564

Firesoul takes place in Fantasy Medieval Europe #a billion, but I’m not romanticizing it. Teconia is the poorest of the poor, a racial minority, and has to keep her mage identity a secret to avoid persecution. You see exactly what that’s like in Ethallia for the average citizen, and it’s not pretty, unlike most fantasy settings where Everyone Is Good Except Our Evil King, Who Is Evil For Vague Magic Reasons.

OOTP is my personal idealized Future America, which means there is So Much Socialism. Everywhere.

Dragon Raising takes place in modern day Chicago, which I chose because wouldn’t it be hilarious if someone had to raise dragons in the middle of Chicago?

22.  What are some of your strengths that make you a good writer?

I pride myself on my description and world building, as I’m sure people have picked up by now, but I’ve also been told I’m good at writing character interactions. I’ll take it!

23.  Do you listen to music/have playlists to get you writing?

I’m one of those people who can’t write without music to block out the sounds of the real world. I don’t have any specific playlists for writing – I usually just shuffle my whole library.

24.  Who is the character that is least like you and why?

Personality wise, it’s between Park and Yu-Qi who are the least like me.

Park thinks he has to be the one to change the world – him and him alone – which is just. Come on man. Dismount from your high horse.

Yu-Qi is closer to being the opposite of me because of our similarities, ironically enough. She’s obsessive, possessive, and in a true dragon fashion, she hoards and hoards and hoards. These are qualities I share, but desperately afraid of.

25.  What is the maximum word count you are hoping for your project(s)?

Oh, this is a good question. I’ve never sat down and thought it out specifically, but I think a good novel length is 80k-200k words, so I’ll shoot for that!

26.  Do you write better in the day time or at night?

Night owl. I blame it on being born at 1:30am

27.  What are your OC(s) zodiac signs?

Well, considering only two of them exist in our star system, I’ll just guess!

Xinya: Virgo

Teconia: Pisces

Park: Scorpio

Hayden: Libra

28.  Where do you fall on the beige to purple prose spectrum?

My prose is indigo, man. I am so close to purple it’s unreal.

29.  Are you well read in the genre you hope to go into?

Absolutely! I’ve been reading fantasy since I was in first grade.

30.  What are your goals for your writing career?

I want to open people’s minds and make them think about stuff that they might not have otherwise thought about. And entertain them, of course.

31.  How comfortable are you with critical feedback?

PLEASE give me critical feedback, I’m begging you. My life has been plagued by minimal to no feedback on my writing and it’s so frustrating.

32.  Do you enjoy reading or writing romance?

Reading it: depends. Writing it: yes, but I’ve only just gotten into it!  

33.  Do you annotate your books?

Depends on the book. If I’ve read it enough times to quote direct lines, then yes. I’ll never annotate a new book.

[q-sal-murr-joe]

Meeting the friends.

Here is my first IJ imagine for you all! It is Q x reader and it centers around the prompt “ “Be careful with her.  She’s more fragile than she seems.” 

I hope you all like it! I apologize if this is rough.  Being my first imagine, I am still getting used to writing them! Message me with more requests or comments! I am on winter break right now so I will be able to write a lot! 

_______________________________________________________________________

It was your first time introducing him to your best friends. You had been dating for almost a year, but it felt like a lifetime.  Your stomach had butterflies turning and you could tell his did too.

“You okay, Brian?” You asked looking over at him smiling.  

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” He replied as he smiled but kept his eyes on his road.  You both had been driving for about four hours.  Brian insisted that you all left Staten Island early that morning to make it down to Friendmas just in time for a late lunch.

Friendmas was the one event that your entire friend group looked forward to every Christmas.  Just a couple days before the 25th, everyone in your friend group would get together for drinks and dinner.  You would all catch up since you only saw each other a couple times a year.  Since college ended, you all moved across the country so it was hard to see each other as often as you all used to.

You decided to all have Friendmas in you all’s hometown.  Everyone needed to see their families anyway so this gave you all the perfect excuse to come home.  One of your best friends still had her apartment that overlooked the river that remained empty.  She made enough money to keep it so it didn’t matter that it didn’t have any occupants.  It was also the place she would escape to whenever she needed it.

You both had moved to New York together after you all were offered our dream jobs.  She was originally an intern at Seventeen Magazine.  She then was discovered in the modeling world and is now a big star. She models for perfume ads, television commercials, and even in actual shows during Fashion Week.

Your’s was as an executive production assistant at TruTV, specifically working with the Impractical Jokers.  That’s where you met your boyfriend, Brian “Q” Quinn.  Three years ago, you were offered an internship at TruTV working in the production department.  You would basically get coffee for everyone the entire summer, but it was the greatest summer of your life.  At the end of the summer, TruTV offered you a permanent job.  You met Brian on the first day you got there and completely hit it off.  He told you that he fought his feelings for you for weeks until the guys, Joe, Sal, and Murr, told him to just go for it.

“You’ll be fine? You’re the worst liar I know.” You said rolling your eyes. “Come on tell me what’s on your mind!” You exclaimed adjusting in your seat turning towards him.

“Well, I guess I’m just nervous.  I know how much your friends mean to you and I don’t want to screw this up.” He said.

“Babe, you’re not going to screw this up! They will love you and they have told me how excited they are to meet you.” You said as you grabbed his hand that was rested on the middle console.

All he could do was smile.  Brian was never one to talk about his true feelings.  It took months for him to fully open up to you, and when he did, it was just a little.  He trusted you enough to tell you about the fire academy, his former engagement, his family, the guys, his depression, and so much more.  Now, he tells you every little thing he is thinking, well most of the time at least.

You squeezed his hand in mine.  “Q, I promise.” You said and gave him a soft smile.  He smiled as he brought your hand to his mouth and gently kissed it.

•••

You both finally got there an hour later.  It was amazing pulling into the parking garage, knowing that you were only moments from being able to stretch your legs again.  When Q parked, you leapt out of the car and reached your arms over your head as far as they could go.

“I know how much you hate car rides, but it wasn’t that bad.” Brian said as he got out holding the presents you all bought for everyone.

“I don’t hate car rides.  I just really don’t like them.  Flying is so much easier” You replied.

Brian rolled his eyes as he met up with you on your side of the car. Walking into the apartment building was so familiar to you, it was just like riding a bike.  It felt like you had been doing it for years and you hadn’t been away.  

Rick, the door man, sat at his large desk observing the security cameras on his computer and only took a break to say hi to you.  You had missed him.  He was the one who would always come and meet your Uber outside and walk you both into the building after we had a night on the town.

You rode the elevator to the penthouse where the doors opened up to a beautiful wall of windows.  The skyline was in front of you all, more beautiful than ever.  

“This place is incredible.” Brian turned to me as he got closer to the windows. “You mean to tell me that she doesn’t rent this place out? She could make a fortune.  Has she always lived here?”

“Oh of course not.” You answered.  “Her original place was on the ground floor, but when she could afford it she decided to move up here.”

“Is that {Y/N} I hear?” You heard a scream from the kitchen.

“And she didn’t even have the decency to come and see us when she arrived?” Another voice added.

They all emerged from down the long hallway that emptied out into the kitchen. One jumped on you in a running hug that almost took you down completely. You hadn’t seen any of them since your birthday.

“And you must be Brian! {Y/N} has told us so much about you! We love your show and are so glad to finally meet you!” One of your friends exclaimed as she broke away from the circle and extended her hand to Brian who had been standing behind you all watching the reunion unfold.

“Oh my gosh, yes, everyone this is Brian.  Q this is everyone.” You said realizing you hadn’t introduced him yet.

After they had said their introductions to him, you all made your way to the kitchen to start dinner.  

As everyone walked in front, you leaned back and put your hard through Brian’s. “I’m sorry I zoned out for a second just then.  They seem to love you and are excited you’re here!  I told you there was nothing to worry about.” You added as you smiled up to him.  

“I know.” He said as he smiled back at me and kissed the top of my head.

“Okay listen up everyone!” Your friend said as she grabbed two glasses from the counter and poured champagne in one and then Jameson on the rocks in the other. This wasn’t the first time she had drank with you and Brian.  She had perfected your drink orders since the first time you all drank together.

As she handed you your drinks, you saw Brian mouth “God bless you” out of the corner of your eye.  She winked and carried on to everyone.

“I would like everyone to find their drink they had or just got and raise it up high.  This is to us.  This is to us having another successful Friendmas and to the many more to come. This is to all of the people we have welcomed in and the ones still dying to join.  I love you all.  Cheers.” She said as she raised her glass in the air making everyone follow.

“Cheers!” Everyone followed in unison.  

The dinner was amazing.  Well, after you and Brian stopped bickering about how you forgot to bring the cake you were told to buy for the event.  As you went over to take photos with a couple of your friends, you noticed that one of your best friends went to go talk to Brian alone.

 •••

Brian’s Perspective

It was insane, the amount of squealing in one setting.  Never having sisters of my own, I never had to learn what a true reunion consisted of. But for {Y/N}, I would do anything. I knew how important it was to meet her best friends from home.  She would always talk about them and meeting them showed how serious she was about me. When we first met, she told me that meeting the friends is way more important than meeting the parents.  I don’t think she remembers that now, but I can see that she still believes it.  Meeting her parents was way easier and less nerve raking than this.

I watched as {Y/N} became happier.  She smiled brighter, she laughed louder, and she was more relaxed than I had seen her in weeks.  She was truly at home here.

“I’m so glad I finally get to meet you!” one of {Y/N}’s friends said as she approached me.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt you!” She added.

“Oh no you’re perfectly okay!” I laughed.  “I was just – is she always like this?” I asked.

“Who? {Y/N}? What about her?” She questioned looking over at you.

“Yeah.  Is she always like this around you guys?” He asked.

“Well, yeah.” She replied.  “{Y/N} is our center.  It’s never been truly established, but a few of us have talked about it a couple of times.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Uh, well. You see, this friend group has been through a lot.  I don’t know if {Y/N} has told you about it.” She started to explain. As I shook my head no, she continued.

“Throughout our entire friendship, there have always been a couple of us that do not get along. But the thing is, that no matter how bad things get, we all still come together.  It is really rare that {Y/N} will ever have a conflict with someone. She’s the one who is the most liked. When it was pointed it out to me, I started to notice it whenever all of us were together.  {Y/N} is the glue that keeps our friend group together.  She is always the one to remind us to have fun, and enjoy time with each other since it is very limited.  The reason these gathers work is because of her.  She’s the strongest out of all of us.”

As she explained this to me, I just watched {Y/N}. The way her smile would grow, how excited she got when she told stories of the past, and how she was eager to make the most of the dinner tonight.

“But don’t be fooled, Brian.” she added. “Be careful with her.  She is more fragile than she seems.  There is no one more deserving of happiness.  I have noticed that she is truly happier ever since she started dating you.”

“Oh, believe me.  I have no intention of ever letting her go.” I said smiling.  Little did anyone know that in my pocket was a box that contained a beautiful diamond. As I felt the box in my pocket at my side, I added, “Believe me, she is my center too.”

[polymetis-23]

Diary Entry Sept. 12th, 2021

Day 1: Sunday - Computers Galore!

   Everything is starting to settle down after the hectic week that was orientation. There are still some events happening for fraternities and sororities, but I don't think I would have the time to commit to them this semester, maybe I'll try recruitment next year. Either way, now that I am not running around like a chicken with their head cut off I can focus on getting properly set up my station.

   Wait… I'm not sure I ever explained to y'all what my goal is. Looking back through old posts the answer is no, sorry to keep you in the dark but basically I want to become a hero. I've always loved reading the comics and watching the movies growing up and now I'm somewhere that I can develop the technology to become one myself. Cool right!?

   So basically I brought a couple monitors and a desktop tower with me so I could surveille the city for anyone in need of help. I do need to figure out how to hack into the cameras around the city though … I have gotten some books and am taking a class this semester on coding so hopefully the hacking thing won't be too bad. I mean, everyone in movies has somebody who can do it right?

Day 2: Monday - Coding == spaghetti + alphabet soup; result = TRUE

  Okay, so I promise I read some of the coding books prior to coming to campus and thought I understood what was going on, but uh, I don't? I mean there are all these letters floating around and subsets of letters that are supposed to be abbreviations for long words but then multiple words start with the same first few letters sooo… yea idk. And even if you can figure out what variable they are talking about (or even the ones you create, because I'll be honest, I term a variable and then work on some code and about 20 lines later have forgotten what it means), you are then jumping all over the place because of functions and then there are classes above functions and objects which can jump between classes and each have their own set of functions so you can't use the same function on different objects if they have different classes unless one is a subclass or the function exists in multiple places but then you could have the same named function that acts differently depending on the class of the object and yeah. Are you confused yet, because I'm not (that is a lie, I am totally lost in this mess of coding and hope the intro class can help untangle it).

Day 3: Tuesday - Going old fashioned

  Okay so maybe I was a little over ambitious trying to hack into the city camera network without having taken a single programming class cause yesterday was a complete fail. So I think I'll go a bit more old fashioned and get a radio to scan all the police channels. I'm not giving up, that's not what this is, I'm just putting the coding on a back burner until I actually understand what is happening, plus the police scanner will be enough for the majority of crimes right?

  I went dumpster diving (I know gross) around campus to see if I could find any old police radios, cause correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think store bought radios can usually hear those frequencies? Thankfully it was worth my time cause I found an old radio hidden in-between the cushions of a couch. (those things are literally black holes). Anyway I returned to my room to take a shower and set up the radio.

    Upon searching the best ways to connect the radio to my computer, I discovered that yes, you can buy radios that can listen to police channels so I guess all that the dumpster diving did was save me some money/time (you can apparently build these things too? Maybe I should research more often). Anyway I got the radio hooked up to my computer so I can keep things centralized before going to sleep. Oh yeah, classes also start tomorrow.

Day 4: Wednesday - Classes, Yay!?

    So I had my first day of classes today and isn't college supposed to be less time consuming than highschool even if the material is more advanced? Classes only meet 2-3 times a week and I don't even have all my classes everyday. Like seriously, in highschool I had 7 classes every day 5 days a week. How on earth did my 3 classes today feel like more work? Maybe I'm just not used to it after summer break? I'm going to bed early tonight cause I have my remaining 2 classes tomorrow and I feel like I'm gonna need more energy than a single human can possess.

Day 5: Thursday - Classes aren't that bad.

  I guess I was just a little overwhelmed yesterday cause today was much better. Maybe it was partly because I attended a small highschool so, seeing that many people in the same long hallway was a very new experience. Maybe I'm just starting to get into the swing of things, I don't know. Reflecting on classes so far, I don't have much actual work yet seeing as most classes have just been reviewing the syllabi, though I'm sure I will actually have to start learning stuff tomorrow and next week.

   I did have some free time today in which I was able to create a prototype of the lenses that I want to use for my goggles. They're a bit flatter than I would like but I don't know how to curve the technology without breaking it yet so I guess that will be an advancement for later. Thankfully I was able to find some code online that already takes the signal from the camera I ordered and puts it on a screen so I might actually be able to use these soon.

Day 6: Friday - The camera hath arrived!

  I got a notification this morning that the camera I ordered had finally arrived and I could pick it up. Thankfully Friday is a pretty light day for me in terms of classes, otherwise I might have skipped some to get the goggles working and that would not have been a good start to my college career. Of course nothing can go smoothly when building stuff (why do shows have everything just working, can't they actually show me how to make it work and the errors I might encounter? It is so much more entertaining watching them than some old white dude drone on about vectors and integration… maybe the fact that they montage through the failures is what allows the shows to be interesting. Hmm something to chew on there I guess.)

   I'm writing this at midnight and should probably get some sleep, but I will most definitely be testing these goggles tomorrow.

Day 7: Saturday - The test!

   The goggles turned on without blowing up! (That's a start right, something I should be excited about and not something that is a given with these sorts of things?) And I could actually see what the camera was seeing, although it was a little disorientating cause the camera is a good inch above my eyes and the screen is translucent so I'm getting an overlap between what I can see in front of me an a shrunken off set view of what the camera can see. The weirdest thing is the fact that the IR camera (the code maybe?) shows things tinted red, I guess that is how the programmer decided to depict the IR waves since we can't normally see them. The camera had a couple different modes built in, the most interesting being the thermal detection where everything was displayed in a gradient across the rainbow (I'm sure that will come in handy later). But I think the default is all I can use for now with the contrasting position of the camera and my eyes, I'll have to sort the rest out later.

   I went outside once it got dark to test the goggles in a setting more similar to where I would be using them. Thankfully I went out late and there weren't a lot of people around. Everything was covered in a haze of red, I had no idea there was this much ambient IR radiation. Some of the building windows were slightly more intense, I assumed there was some poor grad student staying late to finish their research. I continued to look around exploring the new layer of information I could see before turning around to head back to my dorm. As I was walking to my dorm I could see across the river and stopped in my tracks. There were bright red beams shooting across my vision, quickly I took off my goggles to get a better view, but the lights vanished. Confused, I put the goggles back on and there they were again. Every few seconds a bright beam would shoot up off the ground and across the sky. The angle looked too steep to be coming from a window so there was definitely something happening on the ground, but what? That was the question. *low battery* flashed across my eyes. Great, I forgot how long I had been testing the goggles, I'll need to add a power pack to the next version of these. I guess my exploring is done for the night so I'll see you guys next week.

- Polymetis

[nacchi-nacchi-nacchi]

Troubling of the Water: A Todd Howard Story

Wilt thou be made whole? By Nacchi.

On the Production of Compact Discs

Information is stored in CD format as a series of microscopic burns. The useless unblemished disc is covered with millions of tiny wounds until it is assigned order, given utility and thus meaning; its identity is nothing more than a shorthand for the arrangement of its injuries. Hundreds of thousands of identically-scorched discs are mass-produced in factories devoted to this purpose, and then they go out into the world—momentarily useful and then left until they are forgotten, soon obsolete and eventually unreadable. But the marks remain, scars gone illegible within environments alien to them.

CDs are fragile things, damaged in just the right way. Cracks and gouges, records of less useful traumas, form mnemonic ravines into which meaning and memory disappear. And then, the greatest tragedy for a compact disc: to be discarded before even the moment in which its constellation of injuries--that is, in which itself--might be recognized, and so fulfill its destiny. What is to be done with these CDs, and all the CDs waiting for an eternity in landfills and forests and everywhere else on earth? What is the fate of objects with no use?

Chapter I: You Can Climb That Mountain

"I want to change the world.”

Every child believes this; every child is a fool. I certainly did, and was. But then, if I have ever deserved sympathy, it is in that distant past. I was made a fool, as we all are; Even as they nursed their injuries, those around me encouraged me toward lethally high aspirations of my own with patronizing smiles—under the pretense of indulging me, they cultivated my naivety as material for fresh bandages. Surely, someday, for someone—perhaps me—a dream would come true, and the world would open up for everyone. From the very start of my life, I was merely a thing to be used until I was exhausted and then thrown away.

By the time I had grown to understand my position, I was already fatally misaligned with the reality of my circumstances. Stupidly, I had told myself over and over again that, not having any say in the circumstances of my arrival, I was at the very least owed entry into the warm world I had been weaned on stories of. But, I had been given a gift after all, though I didn’t know it at the time: the very things which had finally been destroyed within me, my favorite parts of myself, were the few sacred qualities which might which might have prevented me from becoming the sort of monster that survives in this world—This was the expression of love I had been searching for all along, one I failed to recognize until much too late.

All but forgetting even the ruins of those painful, incongruent parts, I became capable of accepting, even almost of desiring, a life of fighting as hard and as cruelly as necessary to secure my own lowly position. I had made it, whatever it was. I had became the shape and hardness required of me, and had limited the bounds of my imagination to the realities of my existence. Insofar as every part of me that might have been crushed within my confines was gone, I was perfectly accommodated. Insofar as every noncontiguous region of myself had been excised, I was a complete being.

And yet. Even knowing that I could never claim to deserve anything beyond this pathetic life, my mind still wanders from time to time. I remember all sorts of things, stupid fairytales about finding some small, radiant thing, and exclaiming—as the narrator gave a tranquilized smile, or a soundtrack swelled—”Ah, I’m so glad to be alive!”

No matter how I tried, I could not shake those irritating thoughts. This, I believe, is referred to as the death drive.

November 11, 2011. Veterans Day. Already tasting vodka on my lips, I follow the advertisements promising hundreds of hours of velvety unconsciousness to my local GameStop. As I enter I am immediately assaulted by three screens blasting three different advertisements for three different video games. It would seem that if I am to return to the grace of nothingness, I must willingly plunge myself into hell.

“J-just this, please,” I stammer, holding out an empty box and a scuffed plastic card as meager offerings to let me pass through the store unmolested.

In this, as in all things, I am disappointed.

“Oh, you’re a fan of Elder Scrolls, huh? You want that for PC? You know, PC is really the best, since you get all the mods…”

As my mind drifts off, I recall being limply hit on in college—beneath all the token effort, the worn promise of pleasure is nothing more than an excuse for accepting the comfort of a night��or a few months, or years—spoken for, populated with enough distractions to sustain yourself, for a while. After the longest forty-five seconds of my life I am finally permitted to leave the store with my game. Driving home, I wonder when I stopped liking video games (did I ever like them?), and why I keep buying them. Well, what else would I waste my money and time on? Best to devote myself to whatever keeps me staring at a wall; after all, to raise my eyes further would only invite deeper injuries. It’s a strange kind of responsibility I practice, but then responsibility is always painful.

The game disc feels light and cheap in my hand as I place it into my computer’s CD tray. And then it is drawn into the machine, and with a click and the whirr of a laser everything is set into place.

The game installs. The world is gray and filthy. I walk for some time, talk to some people, do what they want; it feels more or less like having a job. I had told myself that as a child, these games held some magic for me, something I could recapture; instead I am left with stinging eyes and an inventory full of meaningless words. There is nothing there to grasp on to, no substance to all the various weapons and armor and pre-appraised treasure. A sickness overtakes me, lying atop the one already provoked by the cheap alcohol I had been drinking. I just want to stop playing and... do... anything, maybe take a walk outside—when was the last time I had been to a park, or really, anywhere without a specific purpose? For one moment, I feel the resolve to go building within me—and then a corpse intersects with a door and begins to twist rapidly around, writhing about with an indescribable cascade of layered thuds.

I begin to cackle, a laugh I cannot even recognize as my own. A sword, battered by the flailing limbs, goes spinning upward with another sound—I double over. This, surely, is why I purchased this game. This is why I spent the money I earned with my long hours of work. At last all the years have led me somewhere, a path back to the sundrenched fields in which I passed some carefree childhood: this cloying, slapstick meme.

There is a kind of love so pure that it can only be understood as a species of gravest perversion. A love which tolerates no artifice and suffers no consideration of the demands of the outside world; a transcendent, fatal, repulsive sort of love. This is the love that I, miserable human being that I am, hold for this “meme” in its raw, unattenuated form. It is the only sort of love which a creature like me can muster.

Meme is the cold hamburger served up at a drive-thru with half the toppings forgotten, and it is the accompanying chuckle. It is the momentary warmth from a trash-heap of disappointments burning to nothing, the measly payment for the copper stripped from the last obsolete office a nameless architect ever built, a final betrayal of hope itself that some small scrap of emotion, whatever it is, might still be salvaged—return to a hometown you feel nothing for, find where the stain of hemolymph crushed into the pavement might remind you of sunlight—and that is meme.

If we are to live submerged in industrial waste, I choose to bend down at each iridescent pool and drink as deeply as I can—that I might at least get drunk on my own suffering, and perhaps even hallucinate some specter of amusement. If nothing else, at least I have that knowing smirk, unseen by anyone but myself; I’m really better than this, you know. It may be worthless, but there was never anything to extract worth from in the first place; I’ll take my silly little laughs. I have no idea what it means to love myself, or anyone else, but perhaps loving these stupid, malfunctioning pieces of debris is as close as I can get.

The following day I discover console commands, and my passion burns even hotter in my chest. So hot even that it melts the chains I had fashioned from the iron of my own blood, chains binding me to the hard edges of that putrid concept known as survival. I am not set free, of course. A malformed entity like myself is incapable of understanding freedom, even if I were to somehow earn it; given wings and set loose with an open sky, I would only bash my head to bits against the ground. No, I am more of a slave than I ever was—a slave to that neon, excruciating joy which in a single instant melted me down and shaped me anew.

Less than human, I have become a gamer.

Chapter IIa: Put What You Want in Your Hands

Having broken free of those chains which I chafed against for most of my life, I began to tumble painfully through my new, larger cage. The next two or three years progressed uneventfully despite the constant drip of new adventures and alterations in my beloved game—I had nothing to lose, and I lost it.

Taking advantage of a departmental reorganization, I left my job behind. Nothing could have mattered less to me at the time; I had only settled for the position in the first place to advance a career about which I cared nothing, chosen only on the basis of a few romantic fantasies. Still, the manner in which I made my exit left me with no hope for further employment in the field, and about as many friends. Loneliness changed, from something I experienced as I ran against the shallowness of my friendships to something I experienced in solitude; truth be told, I found that I vastly prefer the latter.

A far more dire consequence was the rapid depletion of my savings. I had perhaps overestimated how easy it would be to find some stop-gap job and how willing I would be to do that work, and the costs of living piled up frighteningly quickly. There were always new consoles to buy, new Skyrims to experience with their own unique flaws native to each platform, and the few income sources I drifted between came to hardly anything at all. Finally, too broke even to acquire new debt, I remembered why I had choked down the humiliation of employed life for so long.

I had only just purchased a PlayStation VR when Skyrim was released for the Nintendo Switch, and I desperately needed the funds to buy it. There was nothing left to sell, nothing but my piles of Skyrim games and the consoles to play them with. I had even given up alcohol, having found a more effective means of self-destruction. I was at wit’s end; I would wake up in a cold sweat at four in the morning, scour YouTube for any bug videos and scrub through those grating Let’s Plays, unable to get back to sleep unless I found some collision error or AI failure.

Finally, I contacted Todd Howard himself, hoping against hope that the man behind it all might take some mercy upon his most loyal fan. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for the consequences of this action. Whatever sort of creature I might have been, I held only a human understanding of this reality at best; I was incapable of comprehending the level at which a being like Todd operates.

And so it came to be, though even now I’m not really sure how, that I was in Maryland, face to face with Todd himself. He said nothing, his cold silence a marked contrast to the nervous energy he overflowed with in interviews. It gave me the impression that there were really no words to be said, no words but those listed on the contract before me.

I saw my whole life laid out there, neatly bound in threads of black ink. It was in tracing those threads across the page that I saw my life, for the first time, as truly my own. This was not the account of a character I was forced to suffer with; it was me, body and mind tied to a clearly-formed existence.

I earnestly believe that each of us desire, at our core, to be bound by something greater than ourselves. Floating freely through the horrible emptiness, crashing into others as we tumble about, we have no hard form, no justification for the parasitism of existence. And so we cage our dispersed conscious in a flimsy, prefabricated frame of lies, that that cage, those lies, may become our body and their borders our self. Having changed my cage was tantamount to rebirth. But was I entering a higher cycle of existence, or one of atonement?

Perhaps if I knew either way, I would have refused to sign the document. But the thrill of unknowing set down roots in that same part of my breast which had torn me from my dull life, putting forth a bloom of seductive crimson. At last, I remembered that I had a heart, and that it was filled with blood; I dripped that blood down the pen and across those neat threads, and my mind, body and life came together in a blaze of warmth.

Todd picked up the contract, wordlessly looked over my signature, nodded. I suppose the taste of my blood was to his liking.

Chapter IIb: Make Yourself Proud

A car soon arrived to pick me up. As it wound its way along the highway, I stared out into the sky—today it was brilliantly, crushingly blue, and, perhaps because I knew this would be my last sight of it, I couldn’t drink in enough. It was the kind of sky that had always set my thoughts wandering, and I sank softly into daydreams of the past. Not in regret, but as a way of basking in the satisfaction of having my affairs settled, really settled.

The feeling was itself nostalgic. How long had it been since I could complete everything I hoped to and enjoy a clear mind like this one? Even since I had given myself entirely over to Skyrim, I never found the time, or more accurately the mental discipline, to feel satisfied with my progress when it was time to sleep. There was always some other barrow, another Draugr to sneak attack, ten more frost trolls to spawn in. But, sometime before that, surely...

In truth, I’ve always found it better to avoid thinking too much about the past, but being that I was in a rare whimsical mood I chased the thoughts as they rolled around.

Where exactly had my life diverged from the tangle of paths collectively known as human society, and when had the gap between the two become too wide to cross? Though I no longer felt any pain when considering that sort of thing, the answer remained hazy, somewhere just out of reach. Maybe it never existed in the first place... Even as I tried to turn my memories over I found myself refashioning them, reshooting events and adjusting details until they supported convenient interpretations. By this point the original memory, if such a thing could be said to exist, had long since been lost.

In the back of that car, in that tiny world populated only by me, I invented a past self to bid farewell to.

What sense of obligation drove me? It must have been something like going to a distant relative’s funeral—unable to feel the emotion I had been expecting, unsure of even what that emotion was, I made a stiff attempt at propriety in its stead. Naturally it was an awkward affair, a lot like meeting an old friend one has long ago fallen out of touch with. Actually, it was exactly that—the sense of trying to reinvent an already-vanished identity, working backwards to justify a bundle of artificial feelings, all wrapped up far too neatly.

I, whose parts had never quite fit together properly, couldn’t be satisfied with an answer that tied a neat bow on my life. In other words, I refused to accept an explanation that “just works”—Surely I must myself be as full of meaningless switchbacks, unintended paths and misplaced objects as the game I had chosen to devote myself to.

A sharp turn pulled me out of my half-dreaming state, my mind still trailing somewhere behind me. We had arrived, and it was time to leave the beautiful sky behind.

Chapter III: You Can Play Forever

My thoughts hardened again as I approached the Bethesda offices, and my heart pounded in my ears. There I stood, at the edge of eternity, awaiting the consummation of my obsession. My driver came too, standing wordlessly behind me in a smart suit and dark sunglasses that, taken together, gave him a cartoonishly coherent image. I wondered if he wasn’t a beginner at this too, momentarily crossing paths with me as he strode out to the fringes of his own world with the same affected confidence.

All of my earlier contentment evaporated in the heat of that moment, a heat that seemed to exude from the manila walls of the office as surely as if they were the sands of a far-off desert. It was almost as if the golden sunlight which lapped against the outer offices of the building but went no farther had given them some extra warmth in compensation—It was strange to think that those walls would soon separate me forever from that light which had been shining down on me for all of my life. The glass door, when I pushed it, seemed impossibly heavy despite the smoothness with which it opened.

As the door came to a close behind me with a puff of air, I was determined not to feel even a single moment of anxiety or regret. What was I leaving behind? A life worth less than nothing. Having entered the (figurative) dungeon with no (figurative) means of healing and suffering deep (figurative) wounds, I had been tip-toeing around trying futilely to avoid further damage even as I knew deep in my heart that I would be broken the moment I tried to do anything.

I had been wrong my whole life; the thing at my core, the thing that had died, it had been a strand of that sunlight which would have pulled me out of that building. There is a place for the injured in society, in the same way that everyone sometimes indulges in a sad song. There is a place for those things which shatter and then go on bandaged in tape and patches, those things that glow with the rainbow promise of the resilience of the spirit, of that distant day when scars will have become old friends.

There is no place in this entire world for those who have broken irreparably. For those who cannot move on, for those who have no future, whose lives are forever sent spinning out of orbit from consensus human existence. There is no promise of the infinite and indefinite palliative care needed simply for that kind of person to survive each day. And, instinctively sensing that shortcoming, fearful that understanding the curse would be to invite it, those fortunate, blind souls for whom tomorrow will surely come are repulsed by the existence of those like me—Those left with no foundation on which to rebuild. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

But Todd was different. Ever since our meeting I believed, I had to believe, that he was one of the few members of this pathetic species with an unwounded heart in his chest. Or rather, I had to believe that that heart pulsed with such a vulgar, careless muscularity that injuries which would tear a more sensitive man to shreds could not stop its beating, but only wreathe it in a rosy mist of rich, hot blood as it pumped—Driving him, I presume, ever northward to the frozen mounts of Skyrim, like the engine of a locomotive rushing monomaniacally toward the next sales pitch.

I would be crushed carelessly by the weight of that existence, a bug upon a windshield. The thought excited me beyond comparison. If I met that sort of end, lower than a stray dog, I was certain that in my last moments I would blaze incandescent. A life so perfectly brought to nothing... That peculiar alchemy had become my last hope.

I was led deep within the bowels of the Bethesda facility, through winding halls and past unmarked doors. I was fairly confident that I had been descending underground from the first floor, but I soon lost all sense of how deep I might have gone. As I passed each silent chamber, I wondered if some other contractee was within, and for the first time in years I felt true jealousy claw at my heart. I was motioned through another door, shut inside, and then with the click of a lock I was left in darkness with only my strange emotions for company.

How much time did I spend drifting through that abyss? It was only when I realized that I couldn’t make out my hand in front of my face that I started to fret about my appearance. I had first come to Todd on my knees; now that I had incurred a debt of gratitude too heavy to ever repay, I could at least have kept myself presentable for his sake. But there was nothing to be done about it, and so, brushing my hair frantically with one hand, I set about groping around the limits of my chamber with the other.

It seemed I had been granted a bed with a cold steel frame of the sort hospitals have in period films, a large, rectangular dresser of some sort and an exposed toilet and sink shoved awkwardly in a corner. Beyond that, there could have been anything or nothing at all. Even my thoughts seemed to dissolve into the endless night, and soon I was almost unsure if I was asleep or awake.

It was in this state that he came to me, emerging from a thin slit of light and into the darkness of my dream like the negative image of an infant poking its head into the world. He clapped twice, waited. Clapped again.

The darkness erupted into light.

“You, uh, you could have… They were supposed to…”

So this was the real Todd after all. The weight of Nirn and beyond, all in the body of this strange, overgrown teenager. Even as my earlier fantasies evaporated, I drew a certain confidence from his awkward manner. Smiling slyly, I took my first steps toward him.

Todd continued stammering out an introduction. He seemed profoundly uncomfortable with the words people use, piling up phrases and cutting himself off in a spectacular tangle of conversation. The nervousness on his face grew as I approached, and I took a cruel delight in embracing him mid-sentence. His monologue, hardly a viable birth from the start, died in his throat as he hesitantly placed his hands around me.

No matter how quickly I tried to dispel the thought, his unsure touch reminded me of nothing so much as a child grasping out for its mother as he searched my body. As if to exact revenge for my shattered image of him, I took the lead with a perverse poise, patiently but firmly guiding his faltering touch.

Suddenly, Todd found what he sought, and began to move with a feverish brute force. The strength of an adult man erupted awkwardly from his lanky frame, a weird mixture of the figure I had imagined him to be and the one I saw clearly before my eyes. Carelessly, roughly, like the tugging of a newborn animal yet to even open its eyes, those hands pulled at me with such raw, artless desire that I thought I would surely be torn apart.

I gasped into the wrinkled collar of his shirt. For just a moment we were entwined in the stagnant, torrid air of the chamber; it was as though I was reliving a memory, one I had recalled many times before but in a concentrated form, crystallized until it had taken on a physical edge. Thought became plastic, molten, until I had forgotten where one of us ended and the other began, who was who and who held what and how desire flowed between us. Even before the moment had passed, I knew I didn’t want the tragedy of waiting for it, for something that would be like it but never quite the same, to take hold of me again—I wanted nothing more than to keep my eyes closed forever, burrowed within the same sensation for eternity.

And then, in an instant, it was over. We tumbled apart from other, spent and complete.

The copy of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for Xbox 360 Todd had shoved into my waistband sat cold against my stomach, stretching the fabric. Across from me, Todd clutched the sixty dollars he had extracted from my back pocket to his breast as he lay on his back staring blankly up into the concrete ceiling. It was the look of a man who had found all that he wanted and spent all of himself in consuming it, a vacant gaze turned upward at nothing at all.

We lay like corpses, like beings reverted to clay, in that chamber where time did not pass.

Once again I was filled with a terrible sadness even before the moment ended. It seemed impossibly cruel that the rotation of the earth and caprices of biology would soon reassert their tyranny over the world in which we two had found some fleeting shelter. Tears fell wet and hot down my cheeks, streaming soundlessly onto the hard floor. Todd, I realized in some periphery of my mind, was also crying.

Gently, apologetically, Todd slaughtered the moment before it could be taken by decay.

“I’ll be back tomorrow the same time,” he said with a sad smile. “I—I always operate in the same routine.”

And then he was gone, and I was all alone with myself. Myself, the disc and a cabinet stuffed with consoles and topped with a small television. All according to contract, all belonging to Todd—and yet I could hardly bear even this brief custodianship of everything I had dragged around for so long. Not any more. They had become so, so awfully heavy.

Long after he had disappeared, three more twenty dollar bills appeared from the crack beneath my door.

Returning uncertainly to life, as if awakening from a heartbreakingly beautiful dream, I breathed three words into the emptiness:

"I'll be waiting."

Originally posted November 2017, and revised for this blog. Todd Howard the meme figure in my meme hell world should not be conflated with Todd Howard the actual flesh-and-blood person in the actual hell world.

[lalka-laski]

The Day Before Thanksgiving = Slooooow Work Day

Have you ever been served breakfast in bed? On school days as a kid my mom would gently wake us up and ask us what we wanted for breakfast. Then she’d go downstairs to make it while we stole a few more minutes of sleep. She would then bring us up our bagel/pop tart/waffle/fill-in-the-blank and we’d eat it in bed. Wow, she was a saint. And if only I could still start my mornings that way...  What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? I’m slowly getting into cooking, so every meal poses more than a few “challenges” for me lately. But I’m having fun with it and learning a lot!  Are you one to approach others, or let them approach you first? I almost exclusively have others approach me. There are two reasons behind this: 1) I’m introverted  2) I just have a very approachable look/energy. Seriously, strangers come up to me or sit down next to me and tell me very intimate details about their lives, completely unprompted! I guess it’s nice that I look like a friendly and trustworthy person, but it can feel overwhelming at times. Just the other day at Dunkin Donuts it took me 5 minutes just to place my coffee order because the guy behind the counter was telling me how sad he was that his girlfriend broke up with him. I was like “Uh I’m sorry dude, but did I ask??”  When was the last time you took painkillers? When I had oral surgery years ago Have you ever picked flowers out of someone else’s garden without asking? I might have as a kid

What is your favorite thing to do as a little kid? I was- and still am- a huge bookworm, so reading was always a favorite activity. I also had a wildly active imagination, so I could entertain myself for hours living out fantasies in my head. I used to pretend I was a pioneer girl like the characters in my favorite books, and I’d make dirt and grass “soup” and pretend to churn butter in a bucket. Good times lol.  Are holidays as fun for you now as they were when you were younger? They’ve definitely lost some of the “magic” since I’ve grown up, but that’s true of most things. But I still really enjoy the holidays and I cherish the time spent with my family. Plus now I have a partner with whom to share all these traditions (and build new ones!) and that’s such a gift. I have a feeling this holiday season is gonna be one of my best yet.  Do you find non-fiction to be boring? What a silly question. That’s like asking “do you find movies to be boring?” Non-fiction is just an umbrella term encompassing an infinite number of sub-genres and topics. To find that “boring” would be saying that there’s not a single topic on earth you find interesting.  Are you a punctual person? Or are you always late? I’m very punctual, usually early. It’s the anxiety! :)  Do you own a thesaurus? Do you actually use it? I used to, but nowadays I just have Thesaurus.com bookmarked. And it’s almost always in an open tab. #WriterLife  Do you ever write your own short stories? Funny you should ask, ha! I wrote tons as a kid and I had a Creative Writing concentration, so I wrote plenty for assignments in college. I’d love to say that’s still something I actively do but sadly, it’s not. Time to change that... 

Have you ever won money by entering a contest/raffle? Not cash money but I’ve won prizes  Have you ever lost something very valuable? My dignity? Ha I’m just kidding. I still have a few shreds of that. Otherwise I can’t think of anything majorly valuable that I’ve lost.  Have you ever lost something with a lot of sentimental value? I’m an extreeeemely emotional person and I collect/keep everything of sentimental value. The only objects that I regret throwing away are some journals from my youth. I still have most of them, but there were a few I deemed too embarrassing or incriminating to save. I’d give anything to leaf through one of those now... Have you ever been close to drowning? That’s a horrifying thought. Thank God I never have.  Have you ever had a panic attack? Yes.... What stores do you go into when you go to mall? I have a problem where I insist on browsing in nearly every store, even knowing full well I’ll never buy anything. It ends up a huge waste of time. I’m trying to get better about just setting a plan for myself on a shopping trip and only hitting the stores I KNOW I’ll buy from.  Do you ever stop to eat in the food court? Yeah! Just the other day my sister and I ate some very disappointing pizza and fries.  Do you find it easy to relate to other people? I’m empathetic and I always seek to understand and relate.  Who is your favorite philosopher? I can’t say I have one What is your favorite song to sing? Whatever is stuck in my head at any given moment. I love to sing! (Doesn’t mean I’m *good* but...)  Do you consciously try to be unique, or do you just be you? Interesting question. I don’t like to feel the need to be mainstream just for the sake of it but at the same time, I don’t feel the need to deviate from the mainstream just for the sake of it.  Do you worry about being judged by other people? Only every moment of every day  If someone doesn’t like you, do you usually want to know the reason? Oh of course. And I’ll torture myself reliving every mistake I’ve ever made in my life until I find out why  When was the last time you told someone something really important? Yesterday maybe?  Have you ever lost a large amount of money? Nothing more than about $40. Which is still valuable, don’t get me wrong Have you ever tried to blame something you did on someone else? Well I grew up with two sisters so, of course.  Did that person get in trouble, or did the plan fail? We all had our failures and victories... 

What is the weirdest hairstyle you have ever had? Well I was a tween at the height of Lizzie McGuire’s popularity, so I was definitely a fan of crimped hair. But not totally crimped, no no. Just random stray pieces here and there with no rhyme or reason. And don’t forget the butterfly clips!  Describe the ugliest pair of shoes you own? I don’t own any shoes that I consider ugly. Why would I buy shoes I didn’t like?  How many times a day do you look in the mirror? For how long? I have a slight phobia of mirrors. Well, not a phobia, but I have obsessive tendencies about my appearance so it’s best for me to avoid my reflection as often as possible. For that reason, I don’t look in mirrors often.  Are you ashamed to leave the house when not looking your best? I give less and less of a shit lately. It’s freeing  If you are antisocial, WHY are you that way? I’m not. Would you describe yourself as modest? Modesty is a concept steeped in misogyny and it’s one I certainly don’t endorse. These days I probably *could* be described as modest just as far as my lifestyle and clothing choices BUT.... ya girl used to be a huge slut. And I don’t regret it. I support women making their own, informed decisions and doing whatever makes them comfortable!  What is your favorite singer? Bowie, of course! If you could relive one day from last year, what day would it be? Why? There’s one day, one small incident, that I’d kind of like to do-over. But that’s it.  What is something that you are afraid to fail at? Uhh... everything?  What would happen if you did fail at it? .....  Do you ever worry about your loved ones dying? It’s a constant worry. Thanks for reminding me :)))  What is the cutest thing a guy could do for a girl? Well I’m really partial to love letters, songs, poems and the like...  Stuffed animals–immature, or should everyone have one? I have several stuffed animals, some from childhood and some that were recent gifts, and I love them dearly. They make me happy! Surround yourself with things that make you feel good!!  What do you like in your breakfast burritos? Egg and cheese, and veggie sausage or bacon if it’s available.  What restaurant would you choose to go to for breakfast? There are a few trendy brunch spots around here that I like, one of my favorites being a Mexican place. But I love some good old-fashioned diner food, too!  How much money do you think you cost your parents? Um? A lot?? What an odd question though.  Do you have good hand/eye coordination? Laughably bad.  Can you do a flip on a trampoline? I’d 100% kill myself if I tried.  Do you remember the last time you climbed a tree? Sadly, no. But this tree in my front yard was one of my favorite reading spots as a kid. There was this one thick branch that was the perfect size for me to stretch my legs on while I leaned against the trunk and read my books.  Did you ever lie on your back and pick shapes out of clouds as a kid? I still do that Do you watch any Japanese anime? My boyfriend’s really into it so I’ve *seen* some but I can’t say I’ve actually WATCHED it lol  Is there a foreign culture you are interested in learning more about? So many! The world’s a big place, ya know...  Do you let your emotions get the best of you in a fight? HA HA HA HA HA. Do you know me? I am nothing BUT emotions.  Logic? Reason? Rationale? I don’t know her.  Do you know anyone whose reputation has recently been ruined? All the recently outed sexual predators in Hollywood come to mind.  When did you first get a cellphone? For Christmas my freshman year of high school.  And fun fact: a month prior, I gave my parents a presentation as to why I should have one. I had notecards and everything. And clearly it worked! I wish I could put that on a resume...  Do you have your own laptop computer? A chromebook, but I barely use it.  Do you drive your own car, or your parents? I don’t drive Say something inappropriate? No thanks!

What were you doing before you started taking this survey? I just had my lunch “break.” I use the term loosely because not a whole lot of work is getting done today. So it was a break from a break.  Describe the best summer you ever had? I could more easily describe the WORST summer I’ve ever had. I guess my favorite summer was the one right before I left for college. I had the tightest group of friends and we partied every night. It was just your typical care-free teenage dream.  Do you eat any meat other than turkey on Thanksgiving? I don’t eat meat any day of the year! Did you attend a pre-school? I did, and I went a year earlier than usual because my mom was the teacher. So, free childcare. Go mom!  Do you remember what it was like to learn to count to 100? Not even slightly  What is something you lost in the process of growing up? My ability to drink liquor straight  Do you wear any wristbands? If so, what’s on them? Nope  What was the last picture you were in? I took several selfies with me and the girl I nanny the other day Did you have required reading material in high-school? Of course. Most of it I really enjoyed and would’ve read for leisure anyways.  Do you keep your room organized? Yep. I’m a pretty neat person.  Do you vacuum daily? No, but weekly. 

How many board games do you own? I have one card game in my apartment now but no board games, sadly!  Own any books? No. Not a single one. I don’t know how to read. I don’t even know what a book IS???  Recently checked any books out from the library? I just borrowed an e-book from a virtual library so does that count?  Does your cat give you kitty kisses? I don’t have a cat but I wish I did! What’s in your make-up bag? I have several. And I have no idea why they’re separated the way they are. All my makeup is just tossed together 

[christinemonty]

Career Bootcamp Takeaways

Christine Montalbano Career Bootcamp Top Ten Takeaways 12 November 2018

The Stamps Career Bootcamp was interesting to me and stood out compared so some of the other networking events I have been to this semester. What I loved about the Stamps Career Bootcamp was the instant connection my colleagues and I had with every single person there by sharing the same education at The University of Michigan. No matter what the alumna’s focus currently is or was at Stamps, we all worked our butt off for four years at Stamps. I found both days very informative, and enjoyed how much each alumna had to say about their life since Stamps to now. Each person that spoke cared not only about their work, but our work as well. Each alumna was invested in making sure my colleagues and I are prepared to accomplish what ever we want in our future endeavors.

The first person I spoke to on Friday night was Emma Bumstead. Emma’s focus at Stamps was in primarily graphic design and photography. Emma’s history was unique because although she left The University of Michigan for a short amount of time, she came back. Emma talked about the importance of internships and how her internship experience was crucial to her future. One of her internships in college consisted of placing logos into templates. She explained how this internship was not that desirable for her because it was pretty generic, basic, and she was required to follow the same type of template all day every day. She talked about how sometimes she got bored at this job, but it “paid the bills.” Another internship she had was at

Porter One and a musical society. At this time she was still figuring out exactly where she wanted to end up, so she was experimenting with other mediums. Emma talked about her experience with designing the Michigan Yearbook as well.

The second person I spoke to was Ron Watters. Ron is an artist, designer and entrepreneur who works and lives in Detroit. Ron talked to me about his focus in product design, printmaking, and his co-founded company called Talking Dolls. Ron also opened up his studio to me and told me that he would welcome any opportunity to have me come in and learn some of his work with him there. I spoke to Wesley Taylor who is good friends with Ron and he talked about his creative path as well as his relationship and appreciation for Ron. Wesley and I talked for about 40 minutes and he provided me with a lot of creative advice as well as life advice. Wesley and I talked about software we are using, how you should write your work out as a narrative, and to always look to the future in terms of design. Ron and I also talked about the importance of constantly practicing and growing in your work, although it is healthy to move away from the computer and become inspired by life.

My main takeaways are as follows...

1. Always remain interested in human interaction and human behavior. This was spoken from Sara Radin who started in the fashion industry at converse and is now a writer. As an aspiring UX designer, it is important I stay up to date on this takeaway and always be knowledgeable about what the people want, what the future will want and design for

2.

that. This was engraved in me because I realized you can always learn more about humans and what they want to experience and how they want to experience it. Another important takeaway is to stay up to date with technology. This is interesting because as I go through college I always hear about a new software or program I should download and before I have the chance to download it, there is a new software my colleagues are badgering me to download. Technology is constantly changing and constantly evolving and although we get comfortable in our ways, it is important to stay up to date on new technological advancements. With this conversation also came the advice to join Michigan Hackers and Mhack, which are clubs here on campus.

3. Another reassuring lesson I learned was that although Stamps is multidisciplinary, we graduate with an advantage because we have a knowledge with a diverse skillset. When I initially came to Stamps, I was concerned I would not stand out relative to students from other schools because Stamps does not have majors. It was reassuring to hear this panel talk about how diverse and useful the multidisciplinary skillset is. They said that although there is no direct majors, we get exposure to everything. The fourth takeaway that I discovered is that every breakdown is a breakthrough. I think this was a very important point made by Sara Radin because sometimes we do often feel like we hit rock bottom and are in a creative rut. Often times, I feel overwhelmed by my thoughts and ideas that I don’t know how to execute a specific project. This point was crucial to my process as a designer because it helped me to learn that it is up to me to allow things to make more and more sense over time.

4. The fifth important takeaway I discovered was that we all have fear and it is okay to have fear. Every member on the panel claimed that they were very fearful after graduation, and that looking back, they are all very excited and proud of themselves. Sean talked about how he focused on not worrying or putting too much emphasis on what people thought of him. I also learned that it is important to find people you connect with, and utilize that connection.

5. Another important take away was that intimidation happens and it is important how we rise above this feeling. Rich Liverance, an animator at DreamWorks said that you must take baby steps in order to get over this intimidation. He also said that the baby steps are what will eventually push out of our comfort zone. In one of my breakout sessions with Rose Jaffe and Sara Radin they too spoke about getting over this intimidation, and rising above it.

6. A super important and helpful takeaway that I will definitely utilize in the future was Rose Jaffe’s comment about, if there are people, or projects that you are interested in, reach out to them. This comment is important because if you reach out to someone about a project, you can make this connection with them and potentially collaborate with them one day. Rose also mentioned that this is important because you can pinpoint and target where they worked and what they have done in the past. This also piggy-backs on to Wesley Taylor and Ron Watter invitation to work with them in their studio after telling me about specific projects I was interested in.

7. An important question that was asked in one of the breakout sessions that I feel the answer was an important takeaway was: How do you design well while pertaining and staying true to your style? To me the answer really stuck with me because Sam Oliver said to stick to worrying about humanity and your style will flow through your passion for other people. This is important to me because in my work, I strive to take a more humanistic approach. This was helpful because I now know to make humanity “my style.”

8. The eighth takeaway from this weekend from my breakout session. The takeaway was don’t create work you don’t want to do. Do what you want to do, you will feel better about it. Creating work I don’t want to create or am not interested in has always been a struggle for me. Rose Jaffe said unless its necessary for financial reasons, do not feel obligated to stand behind work of things you don’t believe in. Doing work you are engaged with and work that you enjoy will be more pleasurable and will ultimately produce a better outcome and make you happier.

9. My ninth important takeaway from this weekend was to “do stuff,” outside of school and work. This takeaway was really eye opening to me, because often times, I feel I become entirely immersed and lost in my school work and work, that I forget to be inspired by life. It is important to experience things outside of these environments in order to influence and inspire your work. Learning about the world and the people in it, will help me to become  a better designer as well as prevent me from falling into a creative rut.

10. My last significant takeaway from this weekend of networking and information was how to properly go about any type of freelance Letters of Agreement and how to deal with any type of this kind of work. I learned the importance of setting a calendar and set dates for myself. I also learned that a large part of freelance is to be inspired and learn from other creatives. Another huge part of freelance that I learned was, that you need to have a network and strong social media presence. The whole essence of freelance is about what people think of your work and your personality. All the jobs and work you receive freelancing is all by word of mouth and how strong of a web presence you have.

Throughout Friday and Saturday, I was continually reminded of how lucky I am to be a part of the Stamps community and how big of a networking resource The University of Michigan is. I will always try to remain grateful.