#and without memories she's not amanda so idk what would be the point of a new light character with her model (but reworked)

[thefirstknife]

Spoiler question but do you think you know who from this week's quest will become a you know what?

Will Amanda become a Guardian, I assume!

I don't think so. I don't think it would serve any purpose. Her story came to an end; we learned all we needed to learn about her and she went out the way she lived and for what she believed in. There's also nothing really pointing to her being that relevant to bring back. Like, purely from a technical standpoint; they removed her as a vendor and gave her a send-off, complete with her entire backstory. Making her a Guardian would just be making a new character with her model, but new. I can't see them doing that.

One thing that I also feel like people are forgetting, somehow, is that if she becomes a Guardian, she will not be Amanda. Like, that will be a new character. Nothing she's done before will matter. Crow and Savathun were exceptions central to the story to go forward so they had exceptional stories where they got their memories back. Amanda simply is not. She died and even if she becomes a Guardian, there's no more Amanda. It would be a blank slate. No matter what, all of her conflicts and relationships are over.

I just don't think we need a blank slate New Light Guardian right now or that Bungie would keep her in the game like this currently. I think this season was centered on wrapping up stuff about her, giving her a full scope of the backstory and basically letting us say goodbye. It does not read like a setup for a new Guardian.

Obviously, Bungie could have something extraordinary planned out that we can't possibly guess and that would make Amanda returning as a Guardian really compelling. Who knows! Maybe this is something that will happen down the line. As in, after this saga ends and some new story in the setting begins!

But right now? Until the saga ends? I just do not think Amanda as a Guardian is a storyline that needs to be told while we're scrambling to wrap up loose ends before The Final Shape. She was a human face to the war and a victim of it, something to remind us about our mortality and the fact that we're not invincible. Despite Guardians and all our powers, we are fighting for people who are mortal and fragile and those people also have the right to defend their home. Amanda took that very seriously and helped a lot of people, but ultimately at the cost of her own life.

Bringing her back could offer some potential stories, absolutely, depending on how you want to take things in the future. But overall, I just think it's not likely for her to be planned to return as a Guardian, at least not within the scope of the current story. Of course we can't really know what's in store, but from what we do know (lore-wise and meta-wise), the likelihood of this happening is very low.

[filthyslashertoad]

Hellooo! I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if I could get an artist, survivor reader who strangely finds themself drawing Amanda all the time because she just looks so cool/pretty. And one day they drop their sketchbook in a match with her and she finds it?

I’ve been going in an Amanda spiral recently(no pun intended), idk why but I’ve just been thinking about her a lot more and about how interesting of a character she is, anyways thanks for the request 10/10.

Amanda Young x Artist!Reader That’s Infatuated With Her

For the past few weeks you had been in a creative slump until one day you were in a match with The Pig. Something about her trench coat, mask, and trap design fueled your creativity.

In a fit of creativity you developed rough sketches of what she looked like from memory but when you realized you could barely remember some of her features you decided that attempting to sketch her mid-trial would be best.

With your pencil and sketchbook, you hid in a nearby bush hoping for her to sneak past. Just to your luck she did and you began to draw, erasing some of the parts of the other sketches you had incorrectly drawn. Then, suddenly a loud movement in the bushes behind you makes you jump to your feet. "AH-" trying to run away and into the nearby shack, Amanda tackles you to the floor and just as she's about to place a bear trap on your head, she sees your sketchbook beside her. Clutters of sketches of only her decorated the pages, each one in alternating poses.

"Did you do this?" She points at the sketch book before looking back at you.

"Yes-, I swear it's not what you think, I'm not stalking you or anything-"

"Relax, I don't mind, maybe next time you could do some without the mask?" With that she climbs off of you, lifting up her mask slightly to smile at you before returning to hunting the other survivors.

Safe to say you left that trial entirely unscathed and with a date for the next time you decide to draw.

[batfamcraze]

A list of plot-holes in DC vs Vampires and stuff I wasn’t a fan of, a slight rant...

This is everything I could think of after reading #6. If there’s something on the list that gets explained after #6, I obviously didn’t know lol.

Dick was the Vampire King the whole time, apparently? This plot point doesn’t make sense because Cass would’ve been able to realize that there’s something different about Dick.

Dick (and maybe other vampires) killed Starfire because her blood can disguise Vampires as humans... what??? It’s a cheap plot device added in at the last moment. I didn’t like that at all.

Dick was able to turn Clark into a Vampire but not Kori? Superman and Starfire both get their powers from the sun (They use her blood to be able to pass as human, so Clark’s blood should act the same way by logic). Feels sexist to me 🤷‍♀️

I would’ve preferred Kori as a vampire (yes this is a problem because she’s hot), they didn’t need to kill her off (I’m assuming because it’s not clear rn after issue #6)

Dick said that Kori and Tim were close. Kori is friends with Dick, Jason and Damian, not Tim (I’m pretty sure that was a mistake, unless there’s a comic I’m supposed to read that has them as friends? Lmk)

Or it could be interpreted that Kori and Tim dated, because Dick addresses Kori to Tim as “Your dear Starfire” which absolutely did not happen, if that’s what the writers were implying than I’m super grossed out. And yes, this is an Elseworlds comic but I’m pretty sure their canon ages are what they are here—Tim is 17 at best, and Kori is in her twenties like Dick. Ew!!! 🤢

The Vampires have weird standards and throw the word “loyalty” around when it doesn’t have any weight to it. They kill almost everyone instead of turning them to get a bigger army... What’s the point of having a Vampire army if you’re not turning people? Why are they written like this lol.

Amanda Waller had no idea if there were vampires on the Suicide Squad... huh? Of course she would. Waller would know 100% because of the implants in their heads so she would definitely notice a change in the team. Very big plot hole.

They were hinting that the Joker would be a potential suspect for being the Vampire King, but there was only ONE clue that pushed that idea (The bloodied Joker card that Cass and Jason found). This clue imo wasn’t strong enough, and having Joker confirmed dead in issue #6 was something I really didn’t care about. While reading the comic I forgot Joker existed up until that point. DC loves to overuse Joker and I mistakenly assumed that he would be left out of this comic entirely. Idk if that’s on me but oh well, idc and I’m glad he’s dead ig. Stop adding Joker in random storylines DC!!!

Barbara is the one to tell Bruce that she thinks that someone in the family might be the Vampire King after they discover Joker’s body. Which is a very big leap (...Yes this turns out to be true but you get my point). It feels very weird that they didn’t get an actual clue that it could potentially be a Batfam member. The writers make Barbara go: “Hmm the Vampire King has outsmarted us... Surely it must be a member of the Batfam!” As if they’re the only smart people in the DCU??? Arrogant much? 😒 The writers should’ve put an actual clue to lead that conclusion like they did with Joker. You’re not a detective if you’re just going on hunches without leads smh.

Dick’s reveal as the Vampire King was just poorly done overall. It was more of a dramatic plot twist, than a satisfying reveal.

The Vampires personalities are all over the place. When Ollie kills Hal, Hal admitted that he had all of his memories in tact but he’s still evil. This is a very big plot hole, it’s implied that if you turn into a vampire you’re automatically evil, but it’s not executed well. Imo if you automatically turn evil and you have your previous memories, there should be some sort of change as to HOW they view their memories. The writers are telling me that the heroes with the greatest hearts like Diana, Clark, Dick, etc., have their og memories and they still want to kill people? (Maybe we’re not supposed to think about this too much since that’s the plot of the comic, but I have to add this to the list because they didn’t even want to clarify it properly).

I’m not a fan of the pacing, issue #6 is a little too much compared to the first 5.

The Vampires want to kill all humans but... THAT’S YOUR FOOD??? At the end of issue #6, there's a montage of Vampire Firestorm burning forests so humans can't get oxygen? Do the vampires even want to survive? What is the point of killing humans? What is the REASON?! This comic is way too doom and gloom with no logic to back it up. BIG plot hole.

They brought back Hal Jordan’s “yellow is his weakness” because it’s convenient (Honestly this weakness fluctuates from time to time in canon so I’ll give it a pass ig, it’s up to preference)

Dick says at the end of the issue “I just wanted one of my brothers to join me. Is that too much to ask?” Dick planned to turn Jason, but he didn’t care about Tim, Damian or Duke. He crushes Tim’s head without a second-thought AND with no explanation given, unlike he did with Bruce, (he said to Bruce that he didn’t trust him) Dick says to Damian “You could have been the best of use if it weren’t for that little temper.” Which is fair-ish? And Duke is nowhere to be seen. So what Dick actually meant is, he wanted to turn just Jason. You could’ve at least been honest Dick lol.

Jason never had any resentment towards Dick in canon. It was ooc. It’s a fanon interpretation that somehow made its way in this comic. Dick and Jason are both on respectful terms with eachother.

Jason saying that he “held back” doesn’t mean that he thinks he’s better than Dick. It means that he doesn’t want to fight against his family members, he’s not holding back on this fight against Dick because he killed their entire family and that he might be next! (I put this here because people need to understand this, and not be overly sensitive!)

Dick didn’t even want to turn Cass. Plot hole.

STEPHANIE AND DUKE AREN’T THERE!!! STOP FORGETTING ABOUT THOSE TWO DC! 😡

In conclusion, this comic is a mess, please do not take it seriously because the writers aren’t either lol

Let me know if there’s something that I’ve missed!

[sloppy-butcher]

Mechanical Memories

Amanda Young (The Pig) X Survivor! Reader

Notes: Just a lil fanfic idea I’ve been dying to try write. Amanda is a complex character and I’ve been chomping at the bit to try to write for her! maybe it goes well?? idk? I tried keeping the reader gender-neutral but if I’ve messed up I’ll change it!

You have many enemies lurking in the Fog of the Entity. Yet one of them sticks out the most for being the most savage and brutal. A woman who runs around with a Pig mask on her head. But what lies under that rotten flesh is something, or someone, that seems all too familiar. 

word count: 3148

TW: mentions of death and self-harm

She’s hated you from the first moment she saw you. Whenever you were unfortunate enough to be dragged into a trail with her it would always end in either of two ways. Sometimes she would single you out among your friends, driving you like cattle away from your safety in numbers until you were all alone with only her and that knife of hers. An easy target. This was her offer for a quick death. 

Other times, you were not so lucky. She would kill everyone else and then kill you. It would be a long, drawn-out trial, one which would be filled with the anguished screams of the others as you failed to help them followed by your equally long and drawn-out death. If you were cunning enough and not in an altruistic mood, you would escape having used your friends as bait and diversions. But, of course, the trade of 3 dead for 1 escape is not a good business model and in the end, you’d always buckle and succumb to your stupid human desire to help others. Those eyes of black, sunken beneath the rotten pig’s head glared at you with undeniable, unquestionable hatred. 

You could never understand why or from where such loathing had stemmed and for a long time you had bitterly accepted that you would never know. It was their job to kill you after all. Why expect them or her to show anything other than pure, unadulterated malice. But something was off about her kind of hatred. There was something in how she would chase you, feverishly and unrelenting, and in how she seemed to take immense pride in your downfall. Watching you suffer seemed like a drug to her but you assumed it was like that for all the other bastards in this hell-hole. Until you realized that with her it was different.

It was never like this with the others. With them you could feel why they hunted you; some for sport, others a meal and a few simply because they were told too. Obedient dogs, all of them. Except her. She never played by the rules and she never liked it when you didn’t either. 

She would have hated you even more if she knew what you were doing. It was so quiet, the night was cold and the woods around you was seeped with fog and darkness. Right now you weren’t in a trail, rather you were in the in-between time. The moments where you would be allowed safety and rest while you waited for other victims to join you around that eternal campfire. But you weren’t by that fire of warmth and solace. Instead, you were walking deeper and deeper into that ever-expanding, ever-darkening forest. 

You don’t know what exactly compelled you to all of a sudden get up and just start walking. You had no destination in mind, no motive and no reason to leave the circle of fire-light. You knew it was a fruitless effort wandering this wood, every time one dares to venture in they are always turned right back. Be it either the cold, the lack of true direction, fear for what may lurk in that darkness or some other-worldly forces that drove those back to the campfire, none had ever escaped the forest. But you kept walking.

You looked down at your hand and saw the jigsaw piece. A disgusting memento cut from, presumably, the skin of a person. The piece burned in your palm and seemed to almost glow under the cast of pale moonlight. From where you had acquired this distasteful piece was unknown but you had a suspicion. It was from her. But you couldn’t seem to remember when she had given it to you. It confused you. Made your brain rot with its presence and possible implications. Why did you have this? Why would she, of all things, give this to you? The jigsaw piece made you think. And it made you walk.

Your twisted desire to understand the purpose of such a grotesque keepsake pushed you forward into the forest. It put fire under your feet and seemed alive as it led you through the quiet trees. Something about the jigsaw piece... was odd. Still moist with blood it looked almost familiar. But you pushed that thought aside and kept walking on. Step after step, foot before foot. Weaving through trees and pushing through small bushes. You had been walking for so long that your mind had begun to wander away from you. You were barely paying attention to your surroundings, everything just looked the same under that half-fill moon, until your foot hit concrete.

Your eyes focused and you saw the forest floor give way to cracked cement beneath your feet. Raising your head you were surprised to see the Gideon Meat Factory stand before you in all its glory. You didn’t actually believe you’d make it here. With all the stories you had heard about how the woods never let anyone leave the camp-fire, you just assumed that eventually, you would end up back where you started. Yet here you were, bathed in the flickering lights of the warehouse. But you didn’t give yourself time to ponder the small details nor gawk at the building's outward might. You were here now and she was waiting for you inside.

It was easy enough to squeeze through the large metal door and it was even easier to find your way around the interior. Its layout was exactly the same as it was in trails and you had had enough of them to know this place like the back of your hand. However, it wasn’t easy finding her. You had nothing to alert you to her presence, no heartbeat, no ominous aura, nothing. You had been searching for her for several minutes, trekking through the place as quiet and nimble as you could. Looking in corners and in all those little hiding spots you could remember that were downstairs. You were almost ready to give up when you stumbled upon her.

It was the room above the shit-covered bathroom. The walls were lined with pig-masks and designs for other torturous machines. In the center was a work table, on it were those signature devices, reverse bear traps the others called them. And working at the table, with their back towards you, was her. Wiry black hair cascaded down the shoulders of a red-coated woman. 

She didn’t seem to notice that you were there, your ability to remain silent impressing you. You were better than you thought. But now the problem was how to announce your appearance to her without triggering her attack mode. You considered clearing your throat. Or taking a more dramatic approach and just outright speaking. In the end, however, you didn’t have to decide anything. For she had already turned around to face you.

You froze. There was quite a distance between you two but even from where you were you could have sworn you saw her jump at the sight of you. Maybe you surprised her. The only reason she turned around was not to greet you but simply to retrieve a part for her project. Now she was stuck under your stare, shocked to see you in this place. 

There was a long silence between the two of you, in that time no one dared move. ‘So what now?’, you thought. ‘What do I say to her? Or do I just leave? Would she even let me leave?’ Again that decision was taken from you as you felt your own right hand move as if on its own accord. It reached out in front of you and dropped the jigsaw piece to the floor. Suddenly you knew what to say. You knew what to do.

“Who is that from?” Your voice carried around the metal walls of the warehouse. You were surprised, and if not a little grateful, that it sounded so normal and loud. She, however, didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes fixed solely on you. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have been terrified beneath that glare of hers. But now wasn’t the time to be scared. You had to fake it, fake your confidence and conviction until she did something. 

She didn’t. She never moved and never broke your stare. But as the tension built up, so did your understanding. She didn’t need to speak to give you an answer. You already knew who the jigsaw piece was from. You just didn’t want to admit it.

“No!” You cried. Your outburst echoed impressively around the whole building. “No. It can’t be from me!” You began patting your arms and legs as if to check yourself for something. “I’m not... missing anything! I...” your breathing hitched and you began to feel yourself becoming unhinged. Desperate you look up at her. “I haven’t died. I-I’d remember if I had! I’d remember if you had cut that”, you pointed the flesh on the ground, “from me.” 

You took a moment to bring your racing mind back under your control and as you did you were hit with the realization that you were wrong. Many times you had watched your friends get butchered by the killers yet somehow they’d always end up back at the camp-fire safe and healthy. No one ever seemed to remember that just hours before they were hacked into by a knife or someone’s claws. You assumed they just didn’t want to think about it but... it makes so much more sense if they just forgot. No one ever remembered their death, not even you.

You felt your hands begin to sweat. “How many times?” Your voice now was barely above a breathless whisper. Again she gave no verbal response, only watched as you came to your own conclusion. A lot. You felt your hands begin to shake. “All this time. All this death. And...” Your eyes began to swell. “I’m still not happy.’’ You had to stop yourself from crying. You could feel the wave start to  crescendo and you knew it wasn’t long before you’d break and drown. But you couldn’t do that here. Not in front of her. A flame burst inside you and gave you the strength to keep the thoughts at bay therefore not offering her the front row seat to the show of your fall into despair. You wanted to spite her. 

So you bit down of your sadness and, with newfound fire, scowled at her. She blinked in amused surprised. Although rage burned in your heart, you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of watching you go up in flames. You were under control now, total control. You let your anger give you strength but you did not let it consume you. 

“Why do you hate me so much Pig?” You asked, your tone holding no emotion save for tired indifference. You were done playing games, tip-toeing around the fact that this whole situation is one big fuck up. You were tired and you just wanted answers. You couldn’t help but pass a small chuckle at her expected silence. “Of course, I know the answer to that as well.” Her interested peaked, she cocked her head ever so slightly to the side as an indication for you to elaborate. She was going to allow this, for the time being, you provided entertainment for her, a well-needed distraction from her otherwise mundane work. 

“I’m not stupid despite what you might believe.” You were picking up steam now, the words seeming to pour out of you like an unchecked facet. “I know it’s your job to kill us. The other killers like you do it because they like it, watching us all suffer. But you, are different.” You pause and cast your eye over to her, ensuring that she gave you her whole attention. “You hate me specifically. I’ve seen how you look at me. Forgive me if I sound egotistical but I cannot deny the way you seem to dislike me so much more than the others. You only ever want to see me suffer. You couldn’t care less about the others.”

The room hummed with the ever-flickering electrical lights and you watched her intently, waiting for a sign. She remained still but you could hear her breathing. Heavy and filled with anticipation. She was eager to hear your answer. “Those eyes, that look of utter angry and loathing, I’ve seen it all before. Its the look I give myself when I look in the mirror.” Pig raised her head and narrowed her eyes, where were you going with this?

“You hate me,” you swallowed, suddenly nervous at the prospect of revealing your ideas. “You hate me because I’m just like you.” This seemed to have stirred something within her as she inhaled slowly, puffing out her chest and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t like that accusation at all. It was a bold statement and her mannerisms indicated that you needed to provide proof for such a claim. You quickly obliged. “We’re the same, you and I. We both hate ourselves. We sit alone in self-made isolation and we drown ourselves in our own hatred. But, I suppose, the reason you stand there,” you point to her as if there was an imaginary line separating you and her, “and I stand here is that you took that hatred and dispelled it onto other people. And I...” You trailed off. Taking a deep breath you continued, you voice light with airy resentment.

“But I see that even after killing and hurting other people, after indulging yourself in what you thought would help you, you still have enough self-hatred left to...” your eyes trailed down her arm. She quickly shoved her hand behind her back and growled.

“Leave.’‘ Her voice boomed. It caught you so off guard that she even spoke to you that for a moment it didn’t even register what she said. Regardless you had come too far to just walk out now. So you remained put. She growled again. “Leave. Now!” Her voice was scratchy and deep, riddled with what sounded like neglect, like she hadn’t spoken in years. 

“Or what?’‘ You were getting cocky now, “You’ll kill me? I think if you really wanted me dead you would have done so the moment I-”. Suddenly you felt something hard strike your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. She had lunged at you, closing the space between you two in one swift step. With incredible strength she tackled you to the ground, your head hitting the floor with a dull thud and making your vision blurry and leaving everything smelling like copper. She loomed over your chest, blade no longer hidden beneath her sleeve.

“You know nothing of me!’‘ Her voice oozed with an animalistic need for violence and blood. “How dare you come here and make such statements! You know nothing.’‘ She was breathing heavily now, unhinged and letting her emotions run away with her. You looked up at her and saw yourself looking back. You saw a person with the ability to hurt and the ability to do horrible things. She was in a dark place but if your theory was correct and she was truly like you, then she could come back. Or at least, try. You sighed.

“So I was right. We really are alike.” You expected her to end you, to drag that knife across your throat and end you but she didn’t. The Pig’s eyes widened as she realized she was playing right into your trap. She was in the same state of hysterics that you were in just moments before. She looked down at you on the floor between her legs and wanted nothing more to kill you. But she didn’t. For some reason, she could no longer find the will to hate you anymore. 

Slowly the Pig’s breathing regulated and her body lost its stiff tension. ‘This is all so stupid’, she thought, ‘This kid, this stupid little brat... has come all this way just to see me?’ She looked down at you and saw no fear in your eyes. There was nothing, no contempt or resilience. Only exhaustion and something she knew all too well, the look of someone who didn’t care if they died. You weren’t scared, you were just here and you were just waiting. How she envied that, how you didn’t appear to care about dying. About losing your legacy and being a disappointment. She didn’t want to fade, she was given new life and wanted nothing more than to preserve it. But she went too far and let it consume her until she was left with nothing but the hatred for herself because she knew that she will never be good enough for him. Or for you.

She didn’t want to think about all those horrible things she had done to you. She couldn’t bear the thought of it all. She didn’t deserve this. She was immoral, unjust and a failure. Her head began to swell with all the self-directed detest and you watched as she began to slip away back into that dark place. You needed to pull her back somehow. You needed to keep her here long enough so that she could find herself again. You reached and gently touched the hand clenched around the neck of your shirt. She filched at your fingers and snapped her head towards you. For a moment you thought she was going to attack you but instead all you saw was...

“Brown.” You whispered. She blinked, confused.

“What did you say?”

“Brown.” You repeated just as vague as the first time. “I always thought your eyes were empty and black but they’re brown.” The Pig gawked at you, disbelieving and utterly shocked. Eventually, she let out a breathless laugh.

“You’re fucking crazy.” She sighed and stood up. Surprisingly she offered you a hand. After a moment's hesitation, you took it. “Just like me.”

  ~

The next time you encountered The Pig was in a trail. You had been preparing yourself for the worst but nothing too brutal or devastating happened. It was ordinary, well as ordinary as things could be in a place like this. When she eventually downed you and stuck her head into the jaws of that metal contraption, she seemed to linger above you. You inhaled sharply when you felt a hand slip into your back jean pocket. It was her. You didn’t need to see what she had given you in order to know what it was. Another jigsaw piece. She wanted you to come back.

The thought of returning to her alone and without the judgment of the cosmic ‘thing’ that drove her to madness ignited something inside you. And you couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at the corners of your lips.

[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Regarding Vulcans and autism

Since why the hell not make it a series with recognizable titles that will make it easy to look up and create links for if I ever make enough of them for it to be worth it. Disclaimer: it might be hard to understand what I’m getting at without reading the other posts since this isn’t supposed to be, like, a comprehensive analysis on how one is like the other.

Thing is, as an Aspie woman, I can see perfectly well how Vulcans expressing nothing but neutrality gets twisted in reception and interpreted as smugness/disdain, and autism (or at least Asperger’s, I am sorta more knowledgeable about one than the other) does tend to include self-awareness issues that leads to feelings of superiority and/or inferiority, and with the most recognizably “autistic” (either explicitly or through coding) being the Sheldon Coopers and the BBC Sherlock types, the assumption that anyone like them in some ways will follow in others (heck, might be why pop culture has accepted Holmes as an asshole at all, since he wasn’t that bad in the stories but he WAS smart and eccentric and every once in a while disdaindful of the people whose jobs he did better than them) is not unexpected.

The problem’s not really there because I actually have faith that we could have talked about it and raised awareness of not only this case, but also made people question why seeing a smart(er), seemingly cold but all-around just neutral characters or races made everyone raise their hackles to such a degree, assume that they’re actually mostaken about their skills (literally have seen people go “but what if Vulcans only think they’re some of the best scientists around bc they’re supercilious assholes and it’s just not true”)and wrong about life in general. Don’t get me wrong, I do get the impulse ever since Star Trek (2009), but, well, that’s just the thing, that’s where the problem is. Because we could have talked about it in fandom and be friends about it, but now there are TWO official canon sources that depict the Vulcans as intolerant, xenophobic, racist, ableist hypocrites, and not only is it harder to argue with actual canon telling you that you were right about your worst assumptions, but now you’ve seen them be actually WORSE than you first thougt, and to your faves, and in such a way that none of their positive/redeeming qualities (say, being all of that stuff sorta kinda messes up the whole IDIC thing, but it wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t doing it out out of malice, but out of ignorance and genuine misunderstanding, and if the only members who were shown to be sorta kinda decent weren’t at least partly from a different species (u.s., uh, I mean, us) and/or implied to have been influenced by a different culture) were shown. In fact, those good qualities, such as their pacifism, reverence for life, belief and respect for diversity, their curiosity and constant push for knowledge that probably wouldn’t let them just let a kid fall by the wayside becuase he was dyslexic (“there is no other wisdom, and no hope for us, but that we grow wise”), their deep attachment to their morality that’s even more important to them than to be liked by the other members of the Federation COUGH COUGH AUTISM MUCH COUGH COUGH were the first to be dropped in favour of what’s anathema to all of this, the last one in particular was turned on its head so it wasn’t that they used their logic to arrive to the most compassionate and fair choice, and it had to be logic since emotion would resist a sacrifice in a way logic won’t, making logic the compassionate choice (as they saw it, I don’t think it’s universally true, but also not universaly false), but that they were mich more willing to let people suffer and to look the other way and not be affected at all because, I don’t know, they mistook logic, which is a tool, with efficiency, which is a goal, I’d guess.

They lost the best things about them because freaking J J Abrams decided to make movies about a franchise he didn’t even like and then, even though all of it could have stayed in a parallel universe were, as many have proposed, Vulcans were worse because the Kelvin accident led people to know what Romulans looked like earlier so THEY were worse and everyone was just an asshole to each other, but then Discovery took a leaf out of his book and used his version of Vulcans and even changed old characters to fit this new version better (Sarek doesn’t disagree with Starfleet because of its bellicosity [you can’t even argue that he still disaproves of violence because he spent the worst part of the war following General Cornwell around and idk commiting mind crimes] or because he sees it as a rejection from Spock [since he says he’ll keep his distance because it’s what Spock would want and what the fuck even was that?] and he’s a cold bastard who’d take a child to a completely different culture than the one she’s used to purely for superficial beliefs and even then he’ll still prioritize his more Vulcan son, Amanda doesn’t think Vulcan’s is a hard but better way [and honestly she wouldn’t be justified to] so since she can’t be staying because of her children since they’re being mistreated, she must be doing it because of Sarek which is just so feminist, you guys, and ok, I better change topics before this becomes an “everything that’s wrong about Disco with a sidenote of everything that’s not objectively wrong but I still didn’t like”, but also, Vulcan brains can literally lobotomize themselves while dealing with trauma, don’t you think they’d take mental health seriously?) so now it’s canon in the original universe, too. Even with Enterprise (which, to be honest, I haven’t watched, I’ve only learned what was going on with Vulcans from Memory Alpha and the recounting might hace left events and/or the essence and implications of the plotline out), the tomfoolery was supposed to be Romulans infiltrating the government and twisting Surak’s teachings, all of this is supposed to be how things vecame after they got his katra back and went through the Reform.

And this got long, but the thing is: it’s not just about the Vulcans. It’s about the fact that some of the worst assumptions made about them were recognizable at least by this one Aspie as, among other things, a neurotypical’s response to an autistic trait and a long history of negative autistic coding, and now they’ve been confirmed by canon, so instead of having a nice discussion and maybe a bit of disk horse about this, we’ve gotta deal with the fact that now some people feel legitimally repelled by and resentful of Vulcans (insofar as any emotion applies to fiction) because they are now the bigots and oppressors - now it’s not a one episode race of black&white and white&black people ridiculously pointing at the obvious differences between each other, but Vulcans who have said and done bigoted things many people have been exposed to during their lives, and if they were ever willing to give them, and by extension us, a chance, now it’s ruined. I am not, of course, saying that if you hate Vulcans, especially now, you’re ableist, or that making them the Asshole^tm will turn people ableist. Just that it would have been nice to see people like me who didn’t end up justifiably despised.*

*Especially through character assassination, couldn’t you have at least made them unlikeable from the start?

[youngster-monster]

Thing is, Robert may treat him like garbage, but it’s not like he deserves better. Cassidy knows what he’s worth, and it’s not a nice dinner date on the beach. Robert settling for him is the best he’ll ever do.

(The only man who ever thought he was worth anything more than a quick fuck died, and not a day passes without him thinking Amanda would better off if it had been the other way around.)

So he follows him home once, twice, thrice and doesn’t think about the way the air feels colder at five a.m when you’re still trying to put your shirt on and definitely not running away. He sneaks home with bites on his collarbones and scratch marks down his back like a teenager who’s been mauled by a rabid wolf and went back for more, and tells himself this too shall pass like his therapist told him to, back when he was still seeing one.

He keeps the window open to remind himself it’s colder outside than it is inside.

His daughter is happy and going to a great college and the man who fucked him against a wall last night won’t even look him in the eyes when he calls their stupid thing off because Cassidy got too attached again.

Saying that he has conflicting feelings about this party would be an understatement.

But Cassidy is a father and he might not be all that great at it but he always does his best, so he smiles and smiles and plays with the lighter in his pocket with restless fingers.

They’re lively and loud: it helps, somewhat, to see Craig’s familiar grin and Mat’s flower crown, to hear Joseph’s calm voice in the chaos of his mind. They’re all terribly nice and it hurts ever so slightly each time he catches a glimpse of Robert in the corner of his eye, but he’s fine. He’s having fun, to a point.

It feels like he’s been holding his breath forever but it’s not what makes his chest burns and his eyes water. He feels sluggish, trapped, like he’s underwater and he can’t breach the surface.

The only way is down, now.

Craig is the last to leave, and he does so with a worried glance in his direction that he waves away, cheerful and terrified. Craid knew him in college, during the darkest period of his life, and that’s the look he always got whenever Cassidy did something so stupid even Kegstand Craig disapproved of it.

 After his departure, there’s nothing and no one left but Cassidy and Amanda and the setting sun bleeding gold all over the city.

“Ugh, cleaning.”

Old habits die hard and come back to life quicker than he expected. He says, “That’s a problem for tomorrow us,” and drags himself inside.

“That’s irresponsible,” Amanda grins. “I like it. Tomorrow me won’t, though.”

“Who cares.” Not a question. Cassidy ‘Rhetoric’ McGregor: that’s him. Then, “Ice cream?”

“Hell yes.”

No one can say no to ice cream

It’s quiet now that they’re alone: there’s the distant sound of the city, away from their suburban center, and birds chirping out of sight. Amanda is chattering about the party and the Emmas and college, all at once and too fast for him to hope to catch anything more than every other word so he just nods and hums at appropriate moments.

He doesn’t remember a single moment of that damn party.

--

Amanda gets up at 3 a.m for a glass of water. She almost missed him in the darkness, but the light of the streetlamps outside catches on his piercings for a second and she notices the mess that calls itself her father sprawled on their couch, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

“You alright, pops?”

He sounds a little choked up when he says, “I‘m fine, Manda. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t look away from the ceiling. A notification pops up on his phone with a ding, quickly followed by three more, and he flinches, but that’s the only movement he makes. He doesn’t move to check what it’s about, or to turn his phone off. He just— stares.

Amanda walks back to her room without another word.

--

[Robert - 3:12 a.m]

hey

hey cassidy

hey

wanna hang out

in my bed

naked

?

--

Cassidy holds it together until Amanda is off to college. It’s a good score. He’s a little proud of himself for that.

The first thing he does when he comes back from the 14-hours long trip is to grab the bottle of wine he bought for pasta night and forgot in the cupboard and drink straight from it. It’s pretty mild but he’s tired and sad and it’s the only alcohol in the house so it’ll do.

--

[Craig - 5:25 p.m]

Hey bro! Join me @ the gym tomorrow?

[Cassidy - 6 p.m]

No can do bro

I’m exhausted

Sorry

[Craig - 6:02 p.m]

Oh yeah I forgot

Amanda’s all settled?

[Cassidy - 6:02 p.m]

Yup

[Craig - 6:03 p.m]

K, rest well bro

--

[Mat - 4 p.m]

A small punk band I know is playing in town tonight

Wanna come?

[Cassidy - 4:02 p.m]

Idk

Might just stay home tonight

Thanks

--

After that, it only gets darker, and blurrier.

It’s easy to go back to old bad habits if you’ve never gave them up so much as you put them on hold. God, he’s always been a mess, kept together by sheer spite and the knowledge that he won’t ever forgive himself if he fucks up his daughter. She’s the only good thing he’s ever brought into this world.

He alternates between cigarettes and alcohol to keep things interesting. The former he burns himself on, sometimes accidentally and sometimes not. The later he knocks back like he’s running from something and it burns not quite so differently when it goes down.

He loses track at some point and wakes up on his floor or his couch or in a back alley somewhere he doesn’t know with a pounding headache and a few blurry memories of the night before. He gets blackouts more often than not: it’s better that way. He avoids Jim and Kim’s: it feels like running away but there’s no one to tell him that.

The nights he doesn’t feel like forgetting everything, he picks up fights.

One of those nights finds him in a back alley that feels vaguely familiar, like somewhere he passed out before, getting punched in the face by a guy a foot taller that might be an ex-con — but not for much longer if he keeps hitting like that.

Cassidy looks up and he’s grinning with blood in his hair from a nasty cut above his eyebrow, blood everywhere from his bleeding nose. He can only taste copper and cheap beer and smiling hurts from where the guy’s ring opened his lips but he feels more alive than ever.

His highest is always half an hour away from his lowest. By the end of the night he’ll probably look and feel like roadkill, but  right now he’s alright. He already can’t feel his fingers anymore and his ribs have taken it upon themselves to be felt twice as much as usual to compensate. One or two of them might be bruised, but if it’s the case he’s a little (a lot) too drunk to notice.

Then he must pass out for a second, because he blinks and suddenly he’s against a wall and someone’s talking instead of hitting.

“What the hell, Cassidy?”

“Oh, hey Robert.” He’s still grinning and it hurts like hell. His vision is swimming. He grins harder. “I can’t feel my face.”

“Yeah, getting beaten up in an alley tends to do that to you. What did you do?”

“Dunno. Asked for it.” He chuckles, then winces when that pulls on his bruises. Shit, he’s felt better back when he was going through withdrawal.

A hand cradles his jaw, tilts his head. He squints when a street light shines right into his eyes, watches everything go blurry and soft through his eyelashes. Well, the blurry part was already there before, but the softness is new. Like the fingers on his skin, prodding new bruises with an odd sort of not-quite-gentleness, leaving a trail of warmth in their path.

“You look like shit.”

“Y’should see the other guy.” That reminds him- “Where… where did he go, an’way?”

Robert jerks his head to the side. Cassidy can just make out someone lying prone on the ground, in a puddle of something indescribable. “He sure did a number on you before that though. Must have pissed him off something fierce.”

“Haha, yeah.” He sighs, lets his eyes close all the way. Robert’s hand lingers on his face, thumb pressed lightly against his cheekbone. Maybe it’ll stay right there if he doesn’t bring attention to it.

But Robert’s smart about those things. About getting too close, literally or not. He draws back and Cassidy holds on to his smile like a lifeline, because there’s being pathetic and there’s being desperate and he’s not about to remind Robert that right now he’s very much both of these.

“Come on. I have a first aid kit in my car.”

“Weren’t you g’na do- y’know. Alcohol?”

“Do alcohol. Right. But somehow I found a human wreck on my way, so-”

“Don’t be like that.” He opens his eyes, even though it feels like the most effort he’s ever done in his life, and waves his hand in a vague shooing manner. “Go on. Get. ‘m fine.”

An aggravated sigh, before Robert grabs his arm and throws it around his shoulders. He hoists Cassidy up and starts walking, dragging him more than he’s carrying him. Cassidy feels hot from the tips of his fingers to his left hip, every point of contact radiating warmth. It’s a nice change from the cold.

God, he’s so cold.

A door opens and then he’s all but dropped on a car seat, only avoiding hitting his head on the top of the door by going completely lax as soon as no one’s holding him up. He slumps against the side of the seat while Robert goes to rummage around the front seat.

“I’m g’nna get blood all over your shit,” he whines.

“Don’t remind me. I’ll fax you the cleaning bill.”

He giggles. “You don’t have a fax.”

Robert comes back with a box in his hands, opens it to reveal the promised first aid kit. “You don’t know that.”

True. But- “I don’t have a fax.”

“That I can believe. Hold still.”

He smiles and stays very still, doesn’t even wince at the sting of disinfectant on his cuts. He’s had worse, but it never feels pleasant, doesn’t it? Only gets easier to bear.

For some definition of it, anyway.

He watches Robert through heavy lidded eyes as he works silently, cleaning every new wound and slapping a band-aid on any that needs it. He prods one of them for a moment longer, a deep gash from a broken bottle he didn’t see coming quickly enough.

“You’re lucky this doesn’t need stitches, because I draw the line at driving you to the ER at two a.m.”

“I could’ve stit- stich- stitched it up m’self.” God, words are hard. The alcohol’s hitting harder now, like it was just waiting for the right moment to remind him of the shots he was doing before the itch got worse and he had to find something else to keep his hands busy.

Robert makes a dubious sound in the back of his throat. “Sure you could.”

“I swear!” He jerks back and rolls up his sleeve with clumsy fingers to reveal another wound. It’s a week old, still held closed with his own shitty stitches, running through old track marks his arm is a connect-the-dots game. “Look!”

Robert recoils, frowning down at him as he pushes his arm down. “That looks like it was done by a drunk rat on crack.”

He gives it a serious second of thought before nodding. “Kinda was,” he says, because Robert isn’t the first person to call him a rat and at this point the moniker is almost starting to sound affectionate. Even though thinking ‘Robert’ and ‘affectionate’ in the same sentence hurts him, a bit, in that ‘old bruise you can’t stop touching’ kind of way. “‘xcept for the crack thing, ‘cus I’m clean, baby. Did ya know I’m clean? Did I- I… did I tell ya? Clean as a fucking…. Baby out of the bath, man.”

There’s something in Robert’s eyes he doesn’t know what to make of, something weird and not really soft, but not like the hard edge when he told him they were done, either. Then it’s gone and he gets up, closes the first aid kit with a snap and throws it on the front seat.

“You smell like a distillery. That’s not what I’d call clean.”

Cassidy leans back until he’s lying down across the backseat, staring through the window at the street light that blurs through his eyelashes. “‘s not the same though.”

Robert makes a soft sound. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

A moment passes. Then he’s being dragged up again, his legs pushes all the way inside as Robert wrestles a seatbelt around him. He tries to help for a bit but his hands always seem to get in the way, as they always do, and in the end he just tries to remain still in his confusion while Robert does his thing.

“What’re y’doing?”

“Getting you home.” Robert gets behind the wheel and turns the car on. “I’m not letting you walk all the way back to your house in that state.”

Cassidy thinks about objecting. Then, he thinks about nicer things, like the feeling of Robert’s hand on his cheek, his hot breath on the back of his neck, his nails clawing down his spine, stumbling out of this car together and through the door, into the bedroom and on the bed. Then, when the emptiness in his chest threatens to swallow him, he chokes out a, “That’s v’ry nice of you.”

“Please don’t throw up in my car.”

He doesn’t. He stays very quiet and very still for the drive back, slumped against the window, struggling to stay awake. He doesn’t manage it though because he wakes up with a start when the door opens, almost falls out if not for the seatbelt.

Robert has to carry him inside — really carry him this time, because his legs gave up somewhere between the bar and his house. He almost leaves Cassidy on his front step and then decides against it, goes through his pockets for his keys before unlocking the door one handed.

He drops him on his couch, kind of rearranging his limbs so he’s lying on his side before he draws back. Cassidy’s too tired to protest, and the better part of him knows it wouldn’t go well, anyway. But he wants to all the same. Wants Robert to stay close and maybe brush his hair out of his face and tells him he’s gonna be okay, like Alex used to do when things got really bad.

Instead he tucks his face in his arms until he can’t see the empty space in his living room and mumbles, “Thanks.”

He’s asleep before he can feel the weight of the blanket dropping on him, or hear the sound of the door closing after Robert — softly, quietly, so as to not wake him.

[galadrieljones]

Writing Questionnaire

tagged by @thevikingwoman​ and @pikapeppa​. Thank you!! <3 

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Short stories, both to write and to read. I am shit at poetry lol, and while I love novels, my heart lies with the careful brevity and condensed beauty of the short story.

What genre do you prefer reading?

My favorite genre to read is probably a strange little genre called Domestic Fabulism. It’s mostly short story writers in the 60s-80s who weren’t quite writing Magical Realism, but not quite Realism either, and their stories were often confined to the home, family, and domestic sphere. As a genre, it lives somewhere in the Slipstream. My favorite Domestic Fabulists are Joy Williams and John Cheever.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Magical Realism, for sure. It’s distinct from fantasy, because the setting tends to be more mundane. I like settings that are like our world, but the rules are just slightly different. I’m not much of a high fantasy writer or reader. I always need things to be grounded somehow in a reality that I know and understand.

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

I used to be very very “write as I go,” but after writing The Dead Season, I have learned that some planning is necessary. I don’t tend to outline extensively or write down my plans, as that always derails my projects. I like to invent as I go, but I now like to have stable plot points or scenes in place ahead of time. How they play out is up for interpretation, but some landmarks are, I think, very helpful.

What music do you listen to while writing?

No music. I like silence when I work. I tend to listen to a lot of music though, when I’m not writing. I like to make playlists for my stories, and listening to those playlists when I’m not writing helps me live inside the story all the time.

Fave books/movies?

Favorite books are probably...Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan, and The Road by Cormac McCarthy. There are a million books I love to death, these are just the first three that come to mind.

Favorite movies are all over the place idk lol. I like old movies like Bringing Up Baby and Casablanca. But I also really love the Coen Brothers--No Country for Old Men and Fargo are my favorites.

Any current WIPs?

Yes. Too many lol. My most active WiP right now is probably my RDR2 fic A Funeral. I’ve also got my HZD WiP, Zero, that I wrote like 30k words in before sort of losing my footing on at the end of the summer :-/ I also have a bunch of DA WiPs, like Unsigned and The Chronicles of Revasan Lavellan like who knows what will happen with those. All my wips can be found at AO3.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Leggings, a massive baggy sweater, a scarf, Ugg boots.

Create a character description for yourself:

Uh, okay, here: She was feeling tired with her hood up. She had not yet acclimated to the morning properly. The neighbors had been texting each other about getting together for breakfast and she does not understand how some people can just socialize constantly, all the time, and not get sick of each other. Her child and her husband just used scissors to cut open one of his squishy toys. They spilled these squishy green orb things all over the shower and became very excited. She still has her hood up. 

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

No. I have taken lots of inspiration from people in my life but it’s always so heavily mixed in with invention that any noticeable resemblance usually disappears entirely.

Are you kill-happy with characters?

No. I hate killing characters. I am trying to become better at allowing stories to unfold into dark places, though, because some of my favorite stories are those in which the hero dies at the end. 

Coffee or tea while writing?

Depends on when I write. If I write at night, nothing. If I write in the day, I like coffee more than tea.

Slow or fast writer?

I’m usually quite fast. When I’m working, I’m very fast. Like I can write a lot of words very quickly. Lately, my overall productivity has waned, but I blame that on a.) being pregnant, b.) the school year, and c.) needing a bit of a break after writing all 400k words of TDS (plus thousands of words in supplementary one shots and also Teen Wolf) in less than two years.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Anything? A song lyric, a passage from a story, a random scene, a real person, a word, a fuckin color, idk. 

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

A near-sighted banker’s daughter who grows up to be a schoolmarm, idk lol. But what would I like to be? A magical scholar, for sure. Just research all day, wearing a big robe with big glasses. 

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?

I don’t know about books but I was just talking to viking yesterday about my favorite movie cliche, or trope, which is when the soldier goes off to war. At this point, it is quite a Nicholas Sparks staple trope, and I find these movies to be terrible but I always cry. I love it so much. I loved Call of Duty: WWII so much because it was all these soldiers off to war, and the main soldier, Red Daniels, would write letters home to his pregnant wife. I can’t handle shit like this. Or that one Nicholas Sparks movie with Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried, and he goes to war and then comes home and it’s all a struggle and all stressful and she’s been taking care of his sick father and I CANNOT DEAL WITH IT I CRY SO MUCH.

In terms of cliches, or tropes, I hate: I really don’t like quirky families in which everyone is magically special. I don’t like young heroines who always seem to know what to do, and who seem to exist seamlessly without average teenage faults and internal conflicts. I don’t like “hip” male characters who are only self-effacing. I hate romanticized male jealousy in writing as well.

Fave scenes to write?

Long conversations in which underlying themes and characterizing factors are revealed. I like writing scenes in which characters tell each other stories or memories, which later open doors into bouts of expositional storytelling or backstory. I like writing exposition that foils the main outer story in some unexpected way, too. 

Most productive time of day for writing?

Whenever I have time lol.

Reason for writing?

I don’t know, I always have. It’s just sort of my instinctual way of processing what happens to me and how I understand the world.

tags for @bearlytolerablethethird @ladylike-foxes @ellstersmash @ithun @a-shakespearean-in-paris @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @nilesdaughter @dragynfox @lyrium-lovesong @buttsonthebeach and any writer who hasn’t been tagged in this yet <3

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

reactions/comments on the official summary of the A:I novel we’re getting sometime in July.

The summary of the A:I novel makes it sound like Amanda and Zula were dating on Luna but...I don’t really like that? I write Amanda as bi, but Zula wasn’t in a place mentally or emotionally stable for a relationship at that point and she was never very...nice to Amanda either in those little snippets we got of them from the Defiance arc. Great way to treat a girlfriend. 

It’d do a real disservice to Zula for just fucking vanishing on her girlfriend, make her look really in the wrong for having her relationship with Davis (which, even if it was only one-sided, she canonically said she loved him, risked her life to rescue his memory chip) without Amanda even knowing if she was alive or not.

Plus...look at me and tell me that either of those women were at a a point in their character development that they’d give a fuck about a relationship at all outside of some companionship when they met at Luna. There’s a reason that even those in my boat don’t stick Amanda with the botfriend at that point in time because...We get nearly no canon on her at the opening of the game, but she’s not an approachable character (”but he was from WeYu!” yeah, so was she). 

I’m absolutely fine with the idea of a bi Amanda and Zula, or even if that’s the route they eventually go with in Resistance (idk what they’re even doing with Davis there, I guess the publishers didn’t it?) but we have scenes of them from the era that the upcoming novel takes place and that wasn’t what was going on between them there. 

My denial isn’t so strong that I’ve lost track of reality and think that the ship this tiny little circle of fanfic makers write about has even the vaguest shadow of hope at being anything close to canon, so this isn’t out of a “well it would make more sense for her to be with him instead!” thing this just...doesn’t work for who either of them were at that point.

[bxnzxmb]

Answer them all :)

1:        When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?   More Cereal

2:        do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?    No

3:        what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?    Napkins or pencils

4:        how do you take your coffee/tea?    With soy milk

5:        are you self-conscious of your smile?    self conscious about everything tbh

6:        do you keep plants?  only a cactus i’ve had in my back year for about 10 years

7:        do you name your plants?    no

8:        what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?    nothing really I try to write but its usually really bad lol

9:        do you like singing/humming to yourself?  singing, but I usually forget the words but that doesn’t stop me

10:        do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?    back and side but never my stomach that hurts my neck

11:        what's an inner joke you have with your friends?    can’t tell you its an inner joke

12:        what's your favorite planet?   Earth. But also Mars and Jupiter: more so for the mythology.

13:        what's something that made you smile today?   seeing my dog

14:        if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?  a mattress and computer table only surrounded by empty beer bottles 

15:        go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!    99% of our solar system's mass is the sun

16:        what's your favorite pasta dish?    Ravioli

17:        what color do you really want to dye your hair?    I want to bleach my hair but i think my skin is too dark

18:        tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. My best friend had answers for all the tests and she knew I was struggling but didn’t tell me and watched me struggle. Never letting that go

19:        do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?    No

20:        what's your favorite eye color?    It used to be green then blue but now Im in love with brown eyes

21:        talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.    No tengo

22:        are you a morning person?    Only if im still up from last night

23:        what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?    Sleep

24:        is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?    No

25:        what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?    Some weird place downtown that was filled with Japanese people that didn’t speak any English at all

26:        what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?    dont have em

27:        what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?    Green- spearmint

28:        sunrise or sunset?  Both are beautiful in their own way 

29:        what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?  Checks my blog daily LOL 

30:        think of it: have you ever been  truly scared?   Yes

31:        what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.    I like black socks and I only throw away my socks when they start to get holes in them. I can’t sleep in socks I feel restricted, kinda like wearing pants when I sleep.

32:        tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.   Nothing good happens after 2AM

33:        what's your fave pastry? Cheese danish   

34:        tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?     I was a pink bunny I used to wrestle with because I used to think wrestling was real

35:        do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?    I like smooth writing black ink pens

36:        which band's sound would fit your mood right now?    Listening to Radiohead rn but more in the mood for some slow classical music rn tbh

37:        do you like keeping your room messy or clean?    Clean but it tends to stay messy

38:        tell us about your pet peeves!    Hippocrates- more so people who tell me they HATE something and then love it soon after, like come on have some values!

39:        what color do you wear the most?  Black/grey 

40:        think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?    I dont wear jewelry

41:        what's the last book you remember really, really loving?    Killing the Rising Sun

42:        do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!   Coffee shops are too glorified on this website, I like making my own coffee to be completely honest

43:        who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?  Someone no longer in my life

44:        when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?  Only recently, first time in years

45:        do you trust your instincts a lot?    I try not to because I tend to be wrong about people alot

46:        tell us the worst pun you can think of.    Amanda LOL

47:        what food do you think should be banned from the universe? forget that we need to ban fireball   

48:        what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?   As a kid it was death, today its life. Quite the opposite.

49:        do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?    Never bought physical music. ( or digital)

50:        what's an odd thing you collect?  I keep my old chapsticks( the ones I dont lose) because those smells can take me back to moments in my life.

51:        think of a person. what song do you associate with them?    Ophelia

52:        what are your favorite memes of the year so far?    hm, probably the darth kermit that one took my by surprise

53:        have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show?  heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?   Dont understand this, so im guessing no

54:        who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?   My dog when I left this morning ahah

55:        what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?    Broken up/ blocked someone

56:        what are some things you find endearing in people?    seeing them genuinely care without wanting something in return

57:        go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?    Took me a while to like this song

58:        who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?    Kylie old grandma, vodka is nikki because of her gluten allergy lol

59:        what's your favorite myth?  Can’t pick one

60:        do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?    Very much so, can’t recall on the top of my head

61:        what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?    Hm pretty content with both tbh.

62:        do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?    only coffee

63:        are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?    not really, Ill organize them when im bored

64:        what color is the sky where you are right now?    Dark blue?

65:        is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?    ya

66:        what would your ideal flower crown look like?    idk

67:        how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?    sleepy and horny and lazy

68:        what's winter like where you live?   50 degrees F with chance of rain

69:        what are your favorite board games?    Monopoly

70:        have you ever used a ouija board?    No

71:        what's your favorite kind of tea?    Thai or earl grey

72:        are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?    Usually I have a pretty good memory

73:        what are some of your worst habits? Thinking of impossible scenarios in my mind   

74:        describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.    caring, loving, protective

75:        tell us about your pets!    I have a 9 month old rottweiler who keeps me very happy and I want to get another dog soon, between a golden retriever, German shepherd or cane corso.

76:        is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?    Not really, I’ve been very responsible today

77:        pink or yellow lemonade?    yelllow

78:        are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?    Honorary member of the fan club

79:        what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? brought me food when I told them I never want to see them again :D   

80:        what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?    Light green, because I want something to keep me happy and a soothing color. Something that will mellow me out. Yes I chose it.

81:        describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.    Beautiful, like another world

82:        are/were you good in school?  Depends really

83:        what's some of your favorite album art?  Usually Jay-z has artsy stuff. 

84:        are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?    Im torn on this

85:        do you read comics? what are your faves?    I barely started reading books lol

86:        do you like concept albums? which ones?    Prefer them.

87:        what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?   Star Wars (1-3) 

88:        are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?   Love abstract and street art

89:        are you close to your parents?    Yes

90:        talk about your one of you favorite cities.    Apart from my own city, I think I love vegas, It’s filled with all types of people. Everyone is doing whatever they want to try to make themselves happy. Kinda like a heaven and hell mixed together.

91:        where do you plan on traveling this year?    Nothing in mind, maybe to canada or UK

92:        are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?    Drown

93:        what's the hairstyle you wear the most?    The i just woke up one

94:        who was the last person you know to have a birthday?    My cousins birthday is today

95:        what are your plans for this weekend?  hm, nothing really, just get through it.

96:        do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?    Remind me later

97:        myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?    Taurus

98:        when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?    Very much so I went with my friends and we all brought our doggies

99:        list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.    It depends really

100:        if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?    I really want to say forward which is something i’ve never thought I’d even consider. With that being sad, going back is always “easier” due to the fact that you’ve done it before and are familiar with upcoming events.