#but i want to move forward and not bog myself down

[zhongrin]

I FINALLY MOVED OUT TO A NEW PLACE!!!

i'm absolutely exhausted and i still need to unpack so many things and i still need to buy a proper desk and restock my groceries & supplies and a do a whole lot of other things BUT i'm hoping to get settled in soon so i can get back to the creative endeavors™️✨

love yall, stay safe, take care, and good vibes 🫶🏻

[toddlertimess]

Hi Friends,

I finally was able to log into Tumblr on the computer. Typing up updates, thoughts, etc is so daunting on mobile. I'm adding a keep reading because I don't know how long this post is going to be. Updates, present mindset, and future plans ahead.

My life feels so uncertain right now. It low-key fell apart about a month ago and I've been slowly trying to pick up the pieces. I'm trying to build the life I've always wanted, dreamt of, and knew was possible.

In picking up the pieces, I've been doing a lot of self-work, self-discovery and healing. It hasn't always been beautiful. There have been so many tears, so many truths uncovered, so many realizations to face head on. But it was a necessary transformation, one I will be on for a lifetime.

My mindset has completely shifted though. I've become more in touch with my intuition, my femininity, and the universe as a whole. In turn, the universe has been talking back, blessing me with gifts and transforming my mindset and ultimately, my life into something spectacular.

Something that has constantly been on my mind, though, is my career path moving forward. I feel like in the past I have so easily conformed to societal ideals of what a career should be. Work in an office, in corporate, work that 9-5, give everything you have to the man, climb the ladder, and in time, you will be running the company. L. OH. FUCKING. L. Guess what I've realized? It's not true. They fed us a lie. And while that might be the case for some people, the opposite is true for most of us. We get bogged down by this rat race, working dead-ends jobs, listening to a tyrannical boss, and ultimately leading to unhappiness. That is not my journey. I am destined for something greater.

Which brings me to my next point. While I'm sitting still, while I'm sitting in the uncomfortable about not quite knowing what I want to do career-wise, or to make an income, it has always been in the back of my mind. What is my passion? What makes me happy? How can I make money doing this? How can I capitalize on this? And I don't think I've found my calling yet. I can't say for certain what my direction is as far as career and that's ok, it can be ever-changing. You don't have to commit to one career for your whole life.

But holy fuck. How cool would it be to learn, and research, and grow, and get certifications, and HELP PEOPLE who are experiencing what I am, and what I have, experienced. I'm talking narcissistic abuse and coercive coparenting. As I am trying to learn about myself and do some growing and healing, I've learned that there isn't a whole lot of information out there about these two topics. Narcissism? Absolutely. You can google and find 10 million articles about narcissism. But how many of them talk about getting out of the narcissistic cycle? The kind of recovery and healing you need to do following the narcissistic abusive cycle? What that even is? And how you can still be in that abuse cycle even after you've left the relationship? That's the key. That's the part. If you do not have complete cut-off from the narcissist, and maybe you're in a place where you cannot completely cut them off, then you may still be in that cycle of abuse. Talk about a mind fuck.

Which leads me to coercive coparenting. I think I've read maybe 3 articles regarding this because there is not a lot of information and research out there. Essentially coercive coparenting is when your coparent uses coercive and manipulative measures to maintain control on your life, your child's life, and ultimately how you parent. To me, it is such a disgusting, low level form of abuse and I've been in the cycle for 10 years. I have allowed myself and my life to be controlled and manipulated by a narcissist even when I thought I was out of the narcissist's trap. But the catch is!?!?!?! When I use this term with other people - lawyers, therapists, etc. - they don't understand it and they don't categorize it as abuse. EVEN THOUGH IT FUCKING IS!

So I don't know where I'm going to land. I don't know what career I'm going to have. I don't know what my purpose is in life. But maybe I'm onto something here with the narcissistic abuse and coercive coparenting. What can I do to help other people in my situation? What can I do to help free them from the trap that I was lodged in before they spend 10+ years of their life in this cycle like I did? Maybe that's my calling.

If you made it this far, thank you. Thank you for caring to read the words I've written. Thank you for spending some of your time on my little life. And thank you for the connection this community has provided me over the years. The universe is magical, isn't it?

[msmc-796-official]

+ Good morning, Heaven's Fury!!

+ Pardon the brief radio silence, I was bogged down trying to pack, prepare, and decipher the tedious legal jargon around my 'transfer'; That, and I was not prepared for my Milkrun. Not sure what I was expecting, but I haven't been this tired in years. + Fantastic news, however! As of tonight, I am shipping out to join MSMC's 148th detachment, "Aftermarket Brokers"; I saddled up with a more R&D-centric detachment in an effort to make the most of my specializations. It should be a nice balance of ground deployment, prototype development, and study. Of course, there's still the brief training window before I can actually meet, let alone deploy with, my squadron- but my application was picked up by 148th almost immediately.

+ No more putting it off, I guess. Now's the time for that last, big step; Moving in. + Thank you all for your inspiration, and for the motivation to make this jump- I hope to make you proud.

+ (PS; I have a bottle of Kahlua to send to Slipshod, I think I owe them one, don't ask. Had to try and guess what they might like; I'll send that over once I'm settled.)

+ Thank you, again, -- "GRAY"

// Congratulations, Gray! The 148th are a very talented squadron when it comes to engineering, they're very lucky to have snagged you so quickly. I'll have your welcome gifts sent over to their hangar, so you can access them right away after you get moved in.

+ aw shit, you got me kahlua? man, I haven't had that since HORUS - I'll look forward to drinking that. (one of my old hacker buddies liked white russians a whole lot; we used to experiment with my vodka collection and see what we could come up with that didn't taste entirely awful.) oh, and you're very welcome for the help ;)

> Congratulations on joining MSMC officially, Gray. While I myself have not personally interacted with the members of MSMC-148, I have it on good authority that they're a very well put together team. I think you'll be a good fit with them - they wouldn't have picked up your application so quickly if they didn't think so, too.

+ yeah, congrats on getting in with the R&D squad - they're good pals of mine. rumor has it some of their older members were privy to our side of the zheng license back in the day - might wanna ask around and see if they still have any of the original blueprints. also, if you see him around, tell Tinkerbell (his actual callsign is Tinker, but I'm not gonna let him off that easy for beating me at poker) that it's his turn to host game night; drinks are on me since I lost last week

// You've really come into your own since we first met you, Gray; it's an honor to get to welcome both you and GRAE to the team. We're all incredibly proud of you, and look forward to piloting alongside you someday very soon. And hey, if you ever need guidance on where to go next, or just want to chat - our hangar doors (and our inbox) are always open. You know where to find us.

+ ditto that. you did good, kid - welcome aboard!

> Congratulations again, Gray. From all of us.

Yours among the stars, forever and always!

-- Angel, Slipshod, & Lockbreaker

[celinamarniss]

First Line Meme

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Both @notabuddhist and @virusq tagged me in this game, which was very sweet of them! I love thinking about first sentences, and it always thrills me when I read a first sentence that really pops.

Unfortunately, I only found myself discouraged after reading through my first sentences. They're not ALL duds, but they're not great, either. Sometimes I just have to write something that gets me into the story and then keep moving forward. Spending too much time writing and rewriting that first sentence holds me back and bogs down the fic.

From the roof of the Imperial Palace, Mara watched the steel-blue sky fade to a murky purple as the sun slipped below the Coruscant skyline. Cascade

The target was armed and extremely dangerous, the bounty puck warned. We Can't Keep Meeting Like This

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived in a palace. The Girl Who Traveled the Ways Between the Walls

“You lied about your age to get this job, didn’t you?” Echo, Revenant, Targeter, Phoenix

“Chewie!” Han called as he stomped down the Falcon’s corridors. The Things You Find on Tatooine

The white veils of the aurora alba shimmered overhead, against the thousands of stars that pricked the blue-black bowl of the sky. Memoria

The case was heavy. something electric in your blood

The girl was a tiny thing, her weight an insignificant burden as Chewie carried her back to his bunkroom. Souvenirs

Chief Intelligence Officer Draven looked up from his datapad as Luke entered his office, his face never shifting from its habitual expression of sour impatience. Unnatural Objects

The thin silver ribbon of the Solleu River wound through the deep green of the Boshi Plains for miles until it tumbled down the Virdugo plunge, the wide waterfalls a bright blur through the shuttle’s window. Homecoming

There's actually a wider variety here than I expected, to be honest. If you asked me about how I tend to start my stories, I would tell you that I like to throw out a lot of scene-setting first, so that we can get past it as quickly as possible and get to the story. There's a little bit of that here, as well as some other bad habits. I love to start with a line of dialogue, for the way that it throws you into the middle of a scene, but I also think it's lazy for me to rely on that gimmick too much. I've been trying to curb that habit. It still shows up in Things on Tatooine, because I do whatever I want in those stories.

[eliaskahtri]

Machamps, Hypnotoads, and Pikachu || Elias & Felix

Location: The boggy woods

Timing: October 12, midday

Parties: Elias (@eliaskahtri) & Felix (@recoveringdreamer)

Summary: Felix goes off the beaten path to catch a Machamp . Elias, who got bored with the regular path, runs into him. The problem is, so does a ballybog.

Content Warnings: Brief mention of Elias taking prescription medication

Did anyone actually play Pokemon Go anymore? Felix was pretty sure the answer was a resounding no, but they were out here, anyway, staring at the app on their phone and trudging through the forest. “Who puts a Machamp in the middle of the woods?” Felix muttered to themself, staring at the phone screen. Getting close now, at least. Just a little bit farther and…

Their foot found something wet, and the balam made a face. Gross, gross, gross. Lifting a shoe, he shook it. Somehow, they’d wandered into a bog of some kind or another, which felt like the last place they wanted to be. But they were so close now, they couldn’t just give up. They’d fought too hard for this. They were getting their fucking machamp. 

“Okay,” Felix breathed. “We can do this. You and me, buddy. Let’s go.” They weren’t entirely sure if they were talking to the phone in their hand or the jaguar sharing their body. The latter probably didn’t care about Pokemon, and the former wasn’t sentient. There was no good answer. They moved forward anyway.

—

Elias didn’t often go off the beaten trail when it came to hiking. But after going through the same trail so many times before, he found himself growing bored. So despite his better judgement, he walked off the marked path and into the woods. He was careful to avoid tripping over any fallen trees or branches, investigating the woods around him.

The more he walked, the more the earth beneath his feet turned from solid to moist, the mud sticking to his shoes and make squelching noises. He thought about turning around, not wanting to have to deal with all the mud, but he perked up when he saw someone hunched over their phone.

“Didn’t expect to see anyone else out here.” He admitted, taking a step closer to the other, hoping he didn’t scare them by suddenly interrupting his deep concentration into whatever it was he was doing. Now that he realized how off the beaten path he was, he started to seriously hope it wasn’t something nefarious. Elias also hope the person heard his footsteps and didn’t jump out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

__

The voice was startling, especially when Felix was so intently focused on the phone in their hand. Even with their senses, which were better than most, a good distraction could make all of that a moot point. They jumped a little at the newcomer’s voice, spinning around quickly to face them.

“Oh,” Felix chuckled nervously, glancing down at their phone. Oddly, it felt as if they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing, as if the man was going to yell at them for playing a phone game in the bog. Maybe it was because of the way Leo had always treated habits like this, the way he’d berated them endlessly for enjoying anything that he didn’t think was worthwhile.

Shifting their weight, they glanced down at their feet with a shrug. “Sorry,” they said, without really knowing why. “I, um… It’s stupid. I was playing a game. Are you — Do you live nearby? I hope I’m not, uh, trespassing or anything.”

—

Elias perked up at the mention of him playing a game. “Oh yeah?” He asked, trying to think of a reason someone would be outside on their phone to play a game. Then, the pieces started to fall into place. “Are you playing Pokemon Go?” He asked, pulling out his phone to reveal that he’d had the app running in his pocket the whole time. “Gotta hatch these eggs somehow.” He spoke with a nod of his head, clearly excited that there was someone else in town that still played the game.

“Sorry to freak you out, I just found myself bored with the marked path and found myself wandering into the woods.” Elias admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed expression. He should have known better than to venture out, but sometimes he wanted to see what other people decided he couldn’t. “I don’t live anywhere nearby, I just like to go for walks and runs around here.”

He looked down to his phone, seeing that there weren’t any good Pokemon in the area. “Nothing good,” he muttered before sticking his phone back into his pocket. “I’m Elias,” he introduced. “Cool to meet someone that still plays the game.” 

__

As the stranger seemed to guess what they were up to, Felix prepared himself for judgment. Pokemon Go was, like, years past relevant. No one played it anymore, and he knew it. But the man pulled a phone from his own pocket, and Felix’s face lit up. “Oh, hey, no way!” They leaned in to look at the screen, looking pleased. “I kind of thought I was the only one still messing with it.” Mobile games were like that — all the rage one day, completely obsolete the next. Felix was just the kind of guy who had trouble letting go. Angry Birds lived on, if only in his heart.

“Hey, uh, no worries. Right? It’s public property… I think.” They really had no idea, if they were being honest. Was the bog public property? There was no one else around, but that was probably because it was a bog. People didn’t tend to hang out there. “Oh, it might not be… The best place to walk or run? There’s a lot of animal attacks out here.” A large portion of which from things that weren’t actually animals. Felix might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but they knew wildlife. Ten years of living off the grid would give you that much.

Nodding, he tucked his phone away. They’d get it back out later, but it seemed rude to have it in hand while having a conversation. And Felix hadn’t been raised to be impolite… at least, not for the first fourteen years of their life. What happened after that was more of a free for all. “Felix,” he replied, holding a hand out for Elias to shake. “Definitely cool.”

—

Elias chuckled at the other’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s definitely harder to do raids these days when there’s really no one left to play the game.” He responded with a shrug of his shoulder. “It was so fun when it first came out, the people remembered they didn’t like going outside and stopped.” He spoke after pulling his phone back out, looking at what pokemon were around, only to see a Pidgey and a Machamp. “I guess there’s nothing too good out here.”

He took a step forward, looking down on his phone to see that his egg was hatching. Darn, a Turtwig. He already had that. “Damn,” he muttered to himself before putting another egg into the incubator and finally looking up from his phone. “I mean, it’s the middle fo the woods.” He answered, looking around. “Public-ish.” He decided on, nodding his head as if it made it more final (it didn’t, he had no idea where he was.)

“I know, but I’ve hiked in some strange places.” He admitted as he finally put his phone back into his pocket. “I guess I just haven’t been warned enough times to finally learn my lesson.” He looked back up at who he now knew as Felix. “Pleasure to meet you, Felix.” Elias spoke with a bright smile, something he always did when meeting someone new. “Did you catch your Pokemon you were after?” He then asked, raising a brow in slight amusement. After all, they’d walked all the way out here for whatever it was pinged on his phone’s radar. 

__

“I still like it, even without the other people. It’s kind of calming. Plus, it makes walks a little more exciting, right?” Though said walks did sometimes bring you out to the middle of nowhere. But, hey, at least the company was decent, right? Felix might have just met the only other person on Earth who still played Pokemon Go. That had to count for something. “I was after the Machamp,” they admitted. “I really like those.”

Whatever hatched from the egg on the man’s phone didn’t seem entirely exciting, though Felix found themself shooting him a curious look anyway. “Public enough,” they confirmed with a nod. “Private property kind of seems like a joke to me, anyway.” Ironic, coming from someone whose father had killed anyone who stumbled across the family homestead in the woods. But that had never been about property, had it?

“Hopefully you never have to learn it the hard way.” Their father was gone now, no longer in that cabin in the woods. Felix still didn’t know where he’d gone, was afraid of the answer, but at least it meant that portion of the woods was safe for people like Elias. Or… as safe as any woods could be in Wicked’s Rest. “Pleasure to meet you, too. I haven’t caught it yet, but I’m close. Probably just a little further into the bog.”

—

Elias caught their curious gaze. “Turtwig.” He explained. “I already have a bunch of those.” He then smiled at the idea of coming all the way out here for a Machamp. It took dedication, that was for certain. “Personally I’ll do anything for a shiny Torchic.” He confessed, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket to alert him of a new Pokemon in the area. Taking it out, all he saw was a Bellsprout. He shrugged, knowing he didn’t have a Victreebell yet and clicked on it, making quick work of throwing his Pokeball by swirling his finger around on his phone screen and catching it. Then, he ground it into candies. No justice for Bellsprout on this day. 

“I can understand someone’s backyard being private, but if you own part of a bog, I don’t see why you would care if someone came back here.” He shrugged a shoulder. “No houses nearby anyway. So even if it was owned, there’s clearly no one here to chase us away.” He paused for a moment, visualizing an old man waving a can over his head shouting at them to get off their lawn. “At least, there’s no one here yet.” He amended, looking around. Nope, not a soul. 

“Well if you’d like a Pokemon Go parter to accompany you, I’d be happy to follow.” He spoke, now thoroughly glued to his phone now that there was someone else that played the game that he’d come across. “Shall we?” He questioned, smiling brightly at the other with an excitable glint in his eyes.

“Ah.” Felix was pretty sure they didn’t play the game the way they were necessarily supposed to. They’d never really been into the idea of trading the things they caught for something else, or using them to gain in-game currency. Felix, to the surprise of perhaps no one who knew them well, got overly attached to the little digital beasties they caught. Every single one of them was meticulously named based on things like what they were, where they were caught, and what vibes they gave off. “Everybody’s got their favorites, right? And Torchics are cute.” Really, most of them were cute. That was why they liked Pokemon.

They nodded as Elias spoke of backyards and houses, glancing around. “No houses that we can see,” they mumbled. The cabin they’d grown up in had been fairly well hidden, to the point that you couldn’t see it until you were practically on the porch. But that wasn’t really the standard, was it? Neither was traumatized people who killed anyone who stepped foot on their land. Felix’s father, they figured, was a one of a kind sort of guy. “But I think you’re probably right. We’re safe.” For now.

But… it felt better doing this trek with someone instead of alone, anyway. So Felix nodded, glancing down at his own phone. “Let’s go,” he agreed, walking further into the bog. Something moved on their phone camera, and they looked down at it. “Oh! I found a… Wait.” They dropped the phone. Oh. That wasn’t a Pokemon. That was an actual frog. A bog frog. Ha. It looked a little funny, didn’t it? Almost like… “Oh, shit!” Felix quickly jumped in front of Elias, trying to bring their shirt up to cover their skin… a beat too slow. The toxin landed on their neck and hand, and the balam let out an uncharacteristic string of curses.

—

Content to follow after the other, Elias carefully followed along, picking his feet up awkwardly when they’d get stuck in the mud, finding himself drawn down to his phone as Felix was. There was a rather realistic looking thing on his screen, froglike. He blinked, but noticed too late that it wasn’t, in fact, on his phone. As soon as Felix dropped their phone, His eyes widened as they jumped in front of him, why would he be so quick to protect him in such a way? Elias quickly picked up Felix’s phone and dragged them backward away from the creature, brows knit together in worry as he did so. 

“What the fuck was that thing?” Elias exclaimed as he continued to drag them backward. “What did it hit you with?” As soon as he had put a significant distance between the two of them and whatever that animal was, he quickly turned Felix around to look them over, eyes wide with worry. He knew better than to touch whatever the hell it was that the animal had spat out at them, but knew that he had to get it off of them before it did more harm. Whatever it was couldn’t be good. 

He didn’t have anything on him to help, and began looking around as if he’d find something. “We’ve got to get that gunk off of you, who knows what it does.” He began to explain, half wondering if he should rip his own shirt and use it as a towel. “Are you alright?” He then asked, knowing he should have asked them that question a lot sooner.

__

Hey, Pokemon Go guy saved their phone! It was a half-delirious thought, driven by adrenaline and — wow. That was some fast-working frog spit, wasn’t it? Or was it a placebo effect in play? Felix knew what the ballybogs did, so maybe their mind was already working overtime in preparation for it, adding… bunny ears… to Elias’s head all on its own. They were nice ears, at least. Felix reached out a hand, swatting absently at them in a way that was incredibly catlike. It might have been telling to someone who was in the know about this sort of thing, but to a human with no idea that a certain number of the population had jaguar spirits sharing their bodies? It probably looked like nothing. 

“Whaaaaaat,” Felix drew out the word, watching Elias panic with a lopsided smile. He looked like he was freaking out a little bit, which was… kind of nice, actually. Felix hadn’t had anyone freak out with worry over them in a long time. A looong time. Words were funny, weren’t they? Something moved in the bog behind Elias, capturing Felix’s attention. The giant pterodactyl coming towards them was — okay. That was probably not real. Right? Right. But if it was real, its talons were headed, like, right for Elias, which wasn’t ideal.

Thinking on their feet, Felix shoved Elias into the swampy water of the bog and fell on top of him, arms covering his head. “It’s all right,” they slurred, looking up. “I scared it off. I’m good with animals. I’m —” They cut off, realizing belatedly that, hey, Elias had asked if they were okay. “I’m good! I’m great! Did you always have the whiskers? Mine only come out sometimes, y’know, but if you wanted to — to match, I could… oh my god, a Pikachu?”

They were off Elias in a heartbeat, leaping to their feet at a speed that probably shouldn’t have been possible and scampering farther into the bog in search of a Pikachu that… well, considering the fact that they weren’t holding their phone, couldn’t be on the app. It must have been a real Pikachu. Yeah. They were totally taking that little guy home and feeding it some tuna.

—

One minute, Elias was standing, and then next he was being pushed into the bog. Great, now he was all muddy and wet. A simple chickadee flew past them, tweeting away. Was… was that what he was being pushed out of the way for? Whatever the hell the stranger got hit with, it was definitely messing up their inhibitions. Great, so now they were high. Then, the complete stranger was on top of him. Letting out a grunt as the other landed on top of him, Elias made a face. One thing was for sure, and that was that he couldn’t leave this person alone. He was way too out of it. 

Thankful as Felix lept off of him (Elias was having a hard time processing the speed of which they were able to do so), Elias slowly rose to his feet, not bothering to try and wipe anything off, his clothes were now, for all purposes, ruined. He made a face down at his clothes, realizing how ruined they were. Surely Naya would be asking question when she saw him.

As Felix began to talk to him again, Elias blinked. Good, he was fine but… Pikachu? Elias bent his head forward, as if he had misheard what he said. “Are you… sure?” Elias then asked, holding out Felix’s phone for them to take back. “I’m… I’m not Pikachu.” He then tried to explain, knowing that it would most likely fall on deaf ears. Still, he had to try. “We should probably get out of here.” He then tacked on, motioning the way that he came, back to the path.

Elias was not excited enough about the Pikachu scampering around just behind him. Didn’t he get it? This was an actual, honest to god Pokemon! Right here in their bog! Maybe he thought it was in the app. Felix looked down at their phone, still in the man’s hand. Was Elias looking at that instead of looking at the bog in front of him? Felix thought back to being fourteen, just before their world shifted into something completely unknowable. Brand new cell phone in hand, the kind that flipped open and shut, texting away in that silly, early 2000s style. LOL. OMG. WTF. They remembered their father shaking his head, saying, you’re going to end up with your hand attached to that thing if you’re not careful. We’ll have to have it surgically removed. A few months later, it had been crushed under the wheel of the family truck when they’d been whisked away to live in the woods, so they guessed they’d been spared the technology addiction. Maybe Elias hadn’t been quite so lucky. 

Felix slapped their phone out of Elias’s hand, letting it land in the bog with a satisfying squealch. “We don’t need that, dude! The Pikachu isn’t in there.” They put both hands on either side of Elias’s face, gently turning his head towards the Pikachu so he could take it in. “Right there. Do you see it? I hope it gets along with cats. I’m going to take it home.” 

Without another word, they dropped their hands from Elias’s face and quickly moved towards the ‘Pikachu,’ crouched down and careful in spite of their speed. They looked very much like a jaguar on the prowl, slowly approaching their ‘prey.’ But Felix had no intention of hurting this little guy. They’d give the Pikachu a good home. The Pikachu would be very happy with them, safe and protected. They wouldn’t make it stay in a pokeball all the time like some kind of asshole. Looking back as Elias spoke again, Felix squinted. “We’ll go home as soon as I catch it,” he promised in a whisper.

—

Elias threw his head back and groaned as he realized this stranger was going to go off and get himself hurt by God knew what. The bog was already infested with toxic toads, and now they were off chasing something they thought was a Pikachu? No, he couldn’t just leave, even if he badly wanted to. He was soaking wet and muddy. He felt gross. But the last thing he wanted to do was leave someone completely helpless in such a delusional state. “Pikachu isn’t real, we really need to go.” He insisted, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. 

He looked out to what exactly they thought was a Pikachu, only to see a small rodent-like creature. Its fur was white, but that wasn’t the part that stood out to Elias. No, the part that stood out the most was the red gem in the middle of its forehead. “What the…” his brows knitted together at the sight, leaning forward as he inspected it further. That did look like a Pokemon. Tilting his head to the side, he stood there with his mouth hanging open, the other hand still firmly planted on Felix’s shoulder. “We really shouldn’t disturb it. It lives here, after all.” He tried to reason, voice in a low whisper.

The creature turned its head toward them, ears twitching with an empty gaze. Why wasn’t it running anymore? Then, it turned its full body towards them, and let off a bright flash of light that left Elias unable to see. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes, and when he finally could see again, it was gone. “The hell just happened?” He found himself asking, looking around for the mysterious creature.

“Everything’s real!” Felix’s voice was a gleeful singsong, excitement clear in their tone. Most people thought that turning into a jaguar wasn’t possible, too, but Felix did that all the time. Most people also assumed that being literally bound to your word and forced into an underground fighting ring against your will was the kind of story that existed only in very messed up fairy tales but, hey, that was also real! That one, of course, made Felix feel a lot less happy than the Pikachu scrambling around the bog, so. You know. Forget it.

Finally, Elias seemed to see the Pikachu. Thank god. Felix didn’t have time to sit here and explain the Pikachu to him when it was right there in front of them. They had to get going. They had to catch ‘em all, right? To be the very best. Elias got it. He had to. “It could live with me,” Felix insisted. “I’d walk ‘im every day and feed him, too. You think he likes tuna? God, I know he does. Everybody likes tuna. Tuna’s the best.” The jaguar hummed in agreement. Even he was quieter now, the dull roar of anger that usually vibrated from that part of Felix’s mind more akin to the quiet contentment that could usually only be achieved with a whole lot of catnip. Thank you, hypnotoad, for your service.

But the Pikachu didn’t seem particularly interested in being captured. It turned and looked at Felix, and then let out a flash of light so bright that it sent the balam stumbling backwards. “Whoa,” they breathed, blinking the stars out of their eyes. “Thundershock. Hey, where’d he go? Do you have —” They cut themself off, brow furrowing. “I don’t even have a pokeball.” 

—

“I think you need medical attention!” Elias called out as Felix chased whatever the hell that thing was. It was like dealing with a toddler that needed to be put on a leash, and man was Elias terrible with children. “I’ve only been in town for, like, a week at most and I’m already doing this.” He whined to himself, taking a stop to catch his breath. It wasn’t that he was winded persay, but the excitable nature of the clearly very high Felix was really wearing him out.

“I mean, yeah it could live with you the way a live piranha could swim with you while you take a bath, that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea!” Elias’s eyes were wide and wild. As much as he loved the idea of Pokemon in real life, a wild animal was a wild animal. “Felix, please. I know I don’t know you very well but please listen to me. That frog thing back there, it clearly did something to you and you’re not in your right mind.” 

His mouth fell open when the creature emitted a flash of light that seemed to hit the other, and he quickly ran over to Felix, hesitantly putting a hand down onto his shoulder. No shock, that was good. “Yeah, it used thunderbolt, does that mean we don’t continue chasing it?” He asked, clearly at his wit’s end. “Fresh out of pokeballs, my friend.” Elias announced, making a show of patting down all his pockets. “So please, can we get back to the trail?” He was exasperated, and he was almost positive he took his meds this morning, so there was no way that he was hallucinating again, right? Felix seemed to be seeing it, so maybe… maybe this wasn’t all in his head. Nope, he was going to store that away for later. That was a later Elias problem to unpack. 

There was a hand on their shoulders, and that was kind of nice, wasn’t it? Felix continued blinking the light out of their eyes, slow and cautious. Their nose wrinkled a bit, making them resemble either a confused kitten or a person about to sneeze. Funny how those two expressions looked kind of similar on a human face, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t need medical attention,” they replied, and despite the ballybog’s toxin making everything feel floaty and far away, they bristled a little at the suggestion. For a lot of pretty obvious reasons, Felix tended to avoid doctors and hospitals. The whole ‘shapeshifting jaguar’ thing left them with physical quirks that were hard to explain, and the scars and injuries in various states of healing that came along with their ‘profession’ were similarly difficult to slide by a medical professional. But that was all right! There were no medical professionals here. Just two Pokemon trainers and a Pikachu!

A Pikachu that was proving a little harder than usual to catch, but that was okay. It would change its mind when it came home with Felix and saw how cool their apartment was. Milo would totally pitch in to help, and the cats would love it. Felix just needed to find it… and find a way to catch it sans pokeball. Luckily, they had a couple of tricks up their sleeve. “No problems,” they said, ducking out from under Elias’s hand and taking off again. “I can sniff it out. And he’ll help me catch it. He thinks it’s cool, too.” He being the jaguar, who might not necessarily think the Pikachu was cool, but did seem interested in helping Felix catch it. Teamwork made the dream work, or whatever. 

Sniffing the air, Felix paused and made a face. “Oh. Right.” They stopped, humming for a moment as they began to shift. Not all the way — they didn’t want the jaguar to eat Elias or the Pikachu, which was totally something he’d do even if he was all chilled out on hypnotoad juice — but enough to fill the air with the crack of breaking bones that tended to accompany bigger shifts. Nose. Eyes. Ears. Tail. Back legs, just enough to give them that little boost of extra running strength. No claws on their hands — they didn’t want to hurt the Pikachu — but soft pawpads to make grabbing it easier. Fur covered the shifted parts, and their hair softened and lightened a little. The shift, while partial, was enough to bring the jaguar out just a little. Not enough that Felix was forfeiting full control, but certainly enough to make their movements more animalistic as they took off again, catching the scent that could only belong to the Pikachu.

—

Elias stared at the semi-shifted Felix is abject horror. There was no way this was happening. And his medication had been working so well, too! But then again, it looked so real. “Do you have… ears? A tail?” His voice came out high-pitched and terrified, something that caused him to curse under his breath at. He had heard the cracking of bones, but surely this had to have an explanation. “Are you okay?” His steps faltered, no longer unable to keep up with the other. He was terrified that what he was seeing wasn’t real. Even more terrified if what he was seeing turned out to be real. He staggered back, shoes making a slorping sound as he trudged backward through the mud, and the suction it was giving was enough to cause Elias to fall backwards. 

There he sat in the mud, eyes wide in terror at the idea that all was not as it seemed. Elias wanted to leave, to pretend that whatever was happening wasn’t happening, but he felt stuck. Clearly this person wasn’t in their right mind, chasing after a wild animal that was clearly in distress. “You’re scaring it and you’re scaring me!” He called out, hoping to appeal to their senses. “It’s a wild animal and you’re scaring it! Surely you don’t want to have a pikachu that lives in constant fear of you, do you?” He felt silly trying to appeal to their better nature, but it was the only thing he had left to reel them in with.

He blinked, hoping the tail and ears would go away when he opened them again. No such luck, they were still there. Why did his medicine choose now to not work? Maybe Elias had been affected by whatever got on Felix? Perhaps he touched it and now he was seeing things too? He looked skyward, hoping for some kind of answer, but found none. “Please let this be a bad dream,” he pleaded to no one in particular.

Felix blinked, the question clearly taking them off guard a little. “Doesn’t everyone have ears?” The tail was another matter entirely; it swished lazily from side to side, though having it pointed out filled the balam with a dread that seemed farther away than usual. Their eyes darted around, scanning the area for the warden who’d once cornered them in an alley, demanding the appendage for himself. Of course there was no sign of him here. Pikachu would have chased Parker away, anyway. Pokemon hated assholes like that. “Am I okay? I’m good! Everything’s aces.” They turned back to Elias, momentary panic forgotten in favor of flashing a thumbs up.

Except… maybe everything wasn’t aces, because Elias was sitting in the bog now. “Aw, buddy,” Felix furrowed their brow, looking concerned. “Your pants.” They were all muddy now. And probably wet. Definitely not comfortable. “Do you want mine? I can give them to you. If I finish shifting, the jaguar can walk home, and jaguars don’t need pants so he wouldn’t even care. You’d have to carry the Pikachu, though. He’d probably try to eat it. Actually, he, uh, he might try to eat you, so you might have to leave before I finish. With the pants. And the Pikachu. But I can give you my address! And you can drop it all off with my roommate. He’ll know what to do with it. The Pikachu, not the pants. But he’ll probably know what to do with the pants, too. Laundry.” 

They were rambling, words coming at a mile a minute as they babbled on and on. Felix was a chatty drunk and it seemed like that chattiness came into play with hypnotoad juice, too. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, in any case… though they did falter a bit when Elias mentioned that they were scaring him. Him and the Pikachu, who they could still smell even if they could no longer see it. Immediately, Felix’s face fell. “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean to.” Their voice was small, uncertain. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to take my pants.”

—

Continuing to stare like a deer caught in headlights, Elias shook his head. “I don’t want your pants.” He said meekly. “I just want to understand.” He added, having half a mind to reach out and touch the other’s very real cat ears. “You’re a… a cat?” Elias’s brows knitted together in confusion, staring into his eyes now that he had a good look at them. They were a cat’s eyes. “I…” he trailed off, at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to think, it was all too much. But at the same time, this damn town was too much. If he wanted to understand, he had to get a grip. So shapeshifting cat people could be real. Maybe… would that explain the body of the victim? Her goat legs? Was she a shapeshifting goat people? He blinked. Puzzle pieces were beginning to slot into place.

“I know you’re, like, high or whatever.” He paused as he hoisted himself out of the mud, not thinking about how dirty and ridiculous he was. “But could you… could you explain this to me? Like, what you are? If you’re comfortable?” It was a rare burst of courage that Elias was experiencing, allowing himself to push away the very real panic that was bubbling its way up to the surface to instead try and understand something that made no sense to him. 

Then there was Felix. Someone who defied normal explanation, a person with cat ears and a tail, cat eyes and a nose. No, Elias needed to understand this. Besides, he wasn’t about to toss away a potential Pokemon trainer friend in the making. “Maybe we could… go somewhere not a bog and we could… talk?” He then suggested, looking down to his clothes. Maybe another time. Maybe one with a change of clothes.

Understand? What was there to understand? Felix stared at Elias as Elias stared back at them, confusion evident in their expression. He’d seen the Pikachu, hadn’t he? And, as an avid Pokemon fan, he must understand why Felix wanted to befriend it. What more was there to explain? Why get hung up on Felix’s ears when there were so many more important things to consider here? The balam wrinkled their nose at the question, shaking their head. “Obviously, I’m not a cat. I’m Felix. Remember?” Their ears twitched on top of their head, their tail still swishing about lazily. 

But — oh. Yeah. Maybe Elias didn’t know what a balam was. For a moment, Felix hesitated. They tried not to flash back to Parker in the alley, the hungry look in his eyes as he’d demanded to know what they were. Elias was entirely different. No entitled note to his tone, no desire coloring his features. He didn’t seem like he’d hurt Felix — something Felix was only just realizing he probably should have confirmed before shifting. But the ballybog’s toxin made it seem like small potatoes, relatively speaking. Felix was so hyperfocused on the Pikachu that it was hard to hold on to anything else for long. “I’m a balam,” they said. “I have a jaguar spirit living inside of me. My mom used to say he was a god, but I think he’s kind of an asshole. Not that gods can’t be assholes. I guess gods usually are assholes, actually. So maybe he is a god. I don’t know. I guess it’s, like, a cultural question. Whether he’s a god or not. The jaguar. Not me, I definitely don’t think I’m a god. But the jaguar might be, and he lives in my body. So maybe my body is a god?” More rambling, more getting caught up in the small details and forgetting the big questions. Felix was bad about that, especially when their inhibitions were down like this.

Elias didn’t seem to mind it, though. He was still hoping to talk. Felix cast a mournful look back into the bog, yearning for the Pikachu that had gotten away. But maybe Elias was right. Maybe they were too scary to make a decent home for a Pokemon. The thought ached a little, acidic guilt crawling up their throat and resting on their tongue to leave a sour taste in their mouth. Did Elias think they’d make a poor Pokemon trainer? Was he right to? “I…” Felix trailed off, looking down at their feet and shrinking into themself just a little. “Sure. We can go somewhere else.”

—

To say that Elias was shaken would be the understatement of the century. A balam? He had never heard of such a thing. But as the other explained it, his brows knit together in confusion and nodded his head slowly. “A jaguar god.” He summarized, staring down at the ground as he struggled to absorb this new information. “Riiiiight.” He frowned, quickly pulling out a prescription bottle from his back pocket, taking out a pill, and swallowing it dry. Hands shaking, he capped the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket. Bile rose in his throat as he felt the panic begin to swell up inside him. His vision began to tunnel as he realized that maybe he wasn’t crazy after all. No, no maybe… maybe this was all a bad trip and this person… Felix was definitely a furry. Yeah, that had to be it. He didn’t judge, that was just their hobby, right? 

Elias had been to enough conventions in his life to know a furry when he saw it. Clearly, he had to have accidentally gotten whatever had affected Felix was affecting him to think that it had popped up when the guy must have put it on. This balam, it had to be a fursona, right? Nothing else would make logical sense, so this had to be the answer. Panic subsiding, he let out a laugh. Man, he really was losing it. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath as he tried to bring himself back to a normal heartrate, his vision slowly returning as the panic went down. 

He nodded in appreciation as Felix finally agreed to leave the bog with him. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking one last breath to bring himself back to normal, the shakiness of the residual anxiety keeping him on his toes. “Sorry about your Pikachu, I’ll make it up to you.” Elias spoke with a half-hearted smile, tossing his head over his shoulder to look at Felix. He turned his attention back forward as they trudged through the bog together, Elias grimacing as the mud began to dry on his clothes. He felt disgusting, and these clothes were going to be hell to clean. He groaned internally, shaking his head. As they reached the trail again, Elias looked back to Felix, shooting them a concerned glance. “Are you going to be alright?”

Elias was doing… something. It was difficult to concentrate. A mixture of the ballybog’s toxin and the sensory overload of the enhanced senses that this partial shift had granted them left Felix a little ways away from the ‘conversation,’ distracted by every little thing. A butterfly flying by overhead that they were pretty sure was actually a very small dragon, a breeze that was probably coming from the spaceship they saw up in the sky. Elias popped his pill, and Felix was none the wiser.

They didn’t particularly want to leave the bog, not with everything going on, but Elias had asked them to go and they didn’t want to upset him. So, Felix followed the man, trying their hardest not to get distracted and wander off each time they passed something that looked far too interesting to walk right by. When Elias turned to look at them, they blinked. He hadn’t been talking this whole time, had he?

“I’ll find another one someday,” they said, sounding a little sad. “And I’ll feed it so much tuna.” But, hey, they’d made a friend, hadn’t they? The day was hardly a waste when they were walking out of the bog with someone else instead of venturing out on their own. They offered Elias a smile, and it was genuine. “Oh, totally. I’m still gonna be the very best… just, you know, maybe not today.”

—

While his hands were still shaking, the rest of Elias had calmed down, minus the heart rate. “I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson about going off the beaten path,” he muttered as he identified the mile marker. They weren’t too far out from the parking lot, but far enough that Elias knew the mud would be dry on his clothes by the time they made it back to their respective cars. “Still seeing things that aren’t there, buddy?” He asked, brow quirked and the corner of his mouth curling upwards in amusement. It was far funnier now that he didn’t have to worry about Felix chasing after a wild fucking animal.

Felix’s smile was infectious to the point that Elias smiled back despite his looming anxieties. “Yeah, and I’ll totally help you out. Just, maybe keep it virtual for now.” He tapped his phone, giving a gentle reminder that they should stick to Pokemon games over hunting wild animals. Then again, he couldn’t deny that his curiosity was peaked at the idea of looking for the strange creatures that called Wicked’s Rest home. He thought on that for a moment, then shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to entertain Felix while they were high. 

“Tell you what,” Elias began as they walked along the trail towards the parking lot. “I’ll get you a Pikachu.” He was planning to go to a convention nearby, and there was always a vendor with Pokemon plushies. “It won’t, you know, move, but it’ll be a good first step.” He laughed to himself, realizing how silly the whole situation that had just occurred was. He was just glad that Felix nor himself got injured in the process. Elias peeled off his muddy sweater and held it in his arms, deciding it felt better to get as much of the wet clothing off of him that he could without being indecent.

Felix continued to find themself lost in distraction as they followed Elias, barely remembering to keep with their new friend rather than wandering away from him. They came close to forgetting that they were meant to be sticking with someone, taking a few steps off the path, when Elias’s voice cut through. They glanced back to him, looking almost guilty as they stepped back in line. “There are minnows swimming through the air,” they said seriously. “The jaguar wants to eat them.” He didn’t. The jaguar didn’t want to eat them. Felix wanted to eat them, but that seemed much stranger to say.

They wondered if maybe Elias didn’t think they were ready for the responsibility of owning a real Pikachu. That was why they hadn’t been allowed to get a cat as a kid, after all. Of course, given the fact that their family had disappeared into the woods at fourteen, that was probably for the best. Felix doubted that their father would have allowed them to bring a cat with them. But things were different now. They had Penelope, who was fat and happy. They could do the same for a Pikachu. Maybe they just needed to prove as much to Elias, and then he’d help them. Their face lit up when Elias promised to get them what, in Felix’s mind, seemed to be a ‘practice’ Pikachu. One that was easier to take care of to help prepare them to come back for the one they’d seen today. A more docile one, apparently, if it didn’t move. “Hey, thanks, man! You’re the best.” Felix grinned, looking excited. A new friend and the promise of their very own Pikachu? Not bad for a single Pokemon Go trip into the bog.

[chiarrara]

hi chia, i hope ur having a great day!! i remember how good the inuokko fic u recommended to me and the college au were, so i wanted to ask if u have anymore fic reccs 👀

(ALSO i read ur cursed kids club fic and i loved it, it was so deeply silly and in character!!! i'm looking forward to it if u decide to write more chaps 🥰)

hiiiii willow! I haven't been reading that much lately, so I don't have any more inuokko for you unfortunately. If you want itafushi or satosugu I have a couple absolute masterpieces for those pairings, but no inuokko. sorry!

I'm really glad you liked my silly chat fic!!! It's fun to write but it's kind of a challenge since I tend to get bogged down in the weeds of world building. I have to force myself just to write dumb shit for the sake of writing dumb shit lol. Hopefully I'll add more to it sometime soon! We'll see how the spirit moves me.

thanks for the ask buddy <3

[ratcandy]

Do you have any tips for new fanfic writers? Anything from basic writing tips to characterization tips. Thanks!

Oh man oh man Asks like this always throw me for a loop dghKJH. I warn that I am completely self-taught, so I can't give any professional advice, I can just tell you what works For Me!

Sooo...... Let's see,

(lots under the keep reading, big long post, and mostly just me rambling)

Biggest piece of advice I can give is to JUST WRITE. GET those words down!! Do not sit there and stare at a blank page agonizing over the perfect first sentence. JUST WRITE. Put something down, you can come back and edit it later! And TRY not to edit as you go, or you will just rewrite the same paragraph 1 million times instead of progressing forward. Just keep writing. Keep going. You can come back later!!!

That may sound silly on paper but seriously one of the biggest problems I've faced while writing is Starting, or having a tendency to go back and rewrite entire paragraphs in the middle of the fic because I didn't like how it sounded. And then I get trapped in a loop of rewriting over and over again, never moving the fic forward, and demotivating myself because it will never be "perfect enough" to me.

Perfectionism is a HELL of a BEAST and I will probably never truly defeat it, but the easiest way to ensure you'll at least finish something, whether it's good or bad, is to actually write it down.

Which honestly is another thing. Write bad!! Allow yourself to write badly! It is okay to write badly! Everyone will start Writing Badly, because that is how starting Goes!! Even if you've been writing for years, you will Write Badly at one point or another, and that is okay! Writing badly is better than never writing at all, if it's something you really want to do.

Anyways ..... Those are my more broad writing tips, to get you actually write the damn thing. But once you've started writing,,, well what other tips do I have. Let's see......

Well, specifically regarding fanfic writing:

DO NOT WORRY about what Other People want. Fanfic writing is a FUN endeavor. You are having FUN. Obviously wanting validation and interaction is what every writer strives for, I'm not saying not to wish for people to comment/kudo/what have you, but do not bog yourself down in someone else's standard if it's not what you want to write.

Look man I strive on grabbing random characters nobody cares about and getting too attached and writing giant things about them. That's what I do, and it's fun to me! And at the beginning, most people do not care to look at those things! Does it suck ass when I don't get as much response as I'd like? Fuck yeah it does! And it can be demotivating as all hell! But for me, I'm writing what I want because it's fun, it appeals to me specifically. And eventually you will reach an audience, even if you don't think you will. And even if that audience ends up being you, three other people, and a shoelace, that's still four people who are in love with your work and want to see what happens!!

INCLUDING yourself!

Mostly my point here is not to change your writing to make what you think other people will pay more attention to. I find this more upsetting than writing what I want and getting little to no response, because now I'm not enjoying what I'm writing, either. And at that point...... what IS the point?

Anyway when it comes to characterization, honestly I've found that is an extremely broad ballpark and everyone truly can do what they want forever. Listen, no matter what you write, someone is going to look at your interpretation of a character and think "he would NOT fucking say that," even if your characterization is as close to canon as you can possibly make it. Because everyone's got their own interpretation going on, even if it's become completely detached from the source material.

So don't try and appeal to everyone; write YOUR characterization. How do YOU interpret that character?

If you do want to stick as close to canon as you can though, aka you're Me, really that just boils down to drenching yourself in the source material and chugging that shit like your life depends on it. Studying the hell out of dialogue, speaking mannerisms, facial expressions/movements if it's a visible medium, how they interact with other characters, how they act when alone, etc etc.

Great character building exercise is to just ask yourself "If I put [x] character in [y] situation, how would they react?" and then just jump from there, honestly hdgKH

Better yet, if you're the worldbuilding type, go extra batshit and just make shit up about how the world works. Hey man if it's not directly contradicted by canon (assuming you're wanting to stay within the realm of canon), then no one can tell you you're wrong! And having the characters interact with that piece of the world in a consistent and believable way will help solidify it!

It's a lot like walking into a place you're probably not supposed to be in. If you look and sound confident enough, people will have no issue believing you are supposed to be there and you know exactly what you're talking about hgKSJDH

Or you're awesome (not me) and want to totally ignore canon, and in that case, go off!!! Go out there and do whatever you want with those characters. The world is your oyster, and if those characters are story-telling devices made perfect for your idea, then do whatever you want forever. Who's going to stop you ?

Umm. Well! that's about all I can think of off the top of my head. Read your work aloud/run it through a text to speech after writing to see if everything sounds normal. Do not trust Word's or Google Doc's grammar detection, they tend to fuck it up. Wordhippo.com is my best friend and I'm introducing them to you now. Look up examples of how to write a certain action scene if you're feeling uncertain of yourself (aka i've read so many examples of dancing recently it's doing something to my brain).

And go get 'em tiger ,knock em dead

[calliethetrekkie]

Star Trek TOS S01E04: The Enemy Within

Original Thoughts

"So The Enemy Within was a legit tense episode of Star Trek. I’m a sucker for the whole good/evil sides of a person being split into separate beings kind of scenario, and the contrast of the Kirk's is interesting and freighting. The Good Kirk struggling as he slowly loses his ability to be decisive without his more assertive half was also compelling and helped give more insight to his character, which again I’m a sucker for. The final breakdown of Evil Kirk was also intense and helped give some personification as well. A well-played scenario all in all. However, the episode is bogged down by one big factor: the outright tasteless treatment of the attempted assault on Yeoman Rand, or at least the aftermath. It’s unfortunate, but the story and conflict with Kirk was still a worthwhile watch."

(Original Post, edited from original)

Rewatch Thoughts

You ever had an episode that you like about 95% of, but there's a moment or two that really bogs it down? Yeah, as my original thoughts alluded to, this is one of those cases.

I'm going to avoid going into that scene. I did it before, and I was able to at least tolerate it this time (though fast-forward also helped). I also don't want to risk triggering anyone on a topic that I myself don't feel qualified or comfortable talking about from a show that took place in a different time. That being said, the scene still made me uncomfortable, and even moreso how the aftermath was handled. That is all I'm going to say about it, let's move on.

Thankfully, I have nothing but good things to say from this point. Even despite what I said above, this was one of the episodes I had really enjoyed the first go around, and I'm happy to say I still felt that way. This one has so much that I can go into concerning the plot, the philosophy, and Kirk himself and how his relationships with Spock and McCoy are showcased here. I don't know where to start... but I guess we're gonna try.

I love the concept of having Kirk split. His good half and his bad side as separate entities. The good Kirk seems like how Kirk would normally be, but as time goes on he deteriorates into being indecisive, lacks any ability to assert himself, and just seems to be becoming more meek and insecure. The Bad Kirk is, as Kirk so elegantly puts it, more like a wild animal. Aggressive, violent, easily-provoked, and while by no means unintelligent, he's prone to being driven by fear and instinct. He does, however, have the strength, assertion, and ability to act that Kirk needs to be an effective captain and leader.

We tend to look at our worst traits and try to lock them away. It's terrifying, the thought of having this potential ugliness inside you. An ugliness that could drive you to doing unthinkable things. The Bad Kirk, with the lack of morality, threatens McCoy, is willing to harm other crew members, and what happened with Rand can speak for itself. Kirk would sure as Hell never do anything like that unless he had a good reason under any circumstance. But without the good half to balance it out, the bad half is in its most raw form. Unable to be tamed or controlled, and without that self-control, who knows what a person could be driven to do.

But in the end, without any darkness, what are left with? We lack a certain will-power. A certain assertion. A certain strength that can only come from feelings such as fury and desperation, for example. Anger can be a powerful motivating power, as we've seen in real life for both good and bad reasons. It's as McCoy told Kirk, we need the darkness. It doesn't make you automatically bad, it's a part of what makes one human. Makes one whole. Without that darkness, the good Kirk cannot be the captain that he needs to be and he can't afford that. He still has the traits he needs, such as his logic and morality, but without the balance he is giving into passiveness and uncertainty. Neither the good nor the bad can exist and function apart. They need to exist together, no matter how unwanted one may be.

The episode handles it incredibly well. Honestly, I think that this was the episode that really sold me on Kirk as a character. Up to that point I had only the pop-culture depiction of Kirk to go on. Which came off as a reckless, womanizing, arrogant hot-shot. I could not have been more wrong. This shows Kirk in one of his most vulnerable states. He can't perform the duty that defines his identity. Yet, as Spock points out to him, he can't let it show because otherwise it will cause unrest among the rest of the ship. He sees himself at his worst, and the fact that he has to merge back with it is terrifying. Why would he want that? How can he accept that such a feral being is a part of himself? Is himself? And what is he himself left as without it? Seriously, I just wanted to hug the poor guy through most of the episode. And despite it, he still shows his dark side so much empathy and care.

I think what most helps represent this struggle is his interactions with Spock and McCoy. I detailed a lot of it here, but here's the brief version.

We have Spock with Kirk as his second-in-command and trusted friend, having been asked by Kirk himself to speak up if he feels that he is slipping. He has to remind Kirk of what happens if he tells the ship the full scope of the situation. He's the one that Kirk trusts to help him face the Bad Kirk in the lower decks, unwilling to let anyone else see it. He's the one who has to inform Kirk of what he is losing and what the end result will be. He's not doing it to be cruel, but it is the reality, and it can't be ignored. That's Spock's job as First Officer, to be able to keep the captain on track and step in when needed. He's also ultimately willing to take the risk of merging Kirk back when it could kill him, certain that such a thing will not happen and even if so, it must be done so that they can rescue the landing team. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.

Then we have McCoy with Kirk. We don't get it as much as with Kirk and Spock, but it's very much still present. He tries to assure Jim that he can still act as captain, seeming almost offended that Spock would seem to question him. But he does ultimately admit that Spock is right, comforting Jim and talking with him to help him find the self-assurance he needs to go through with it. Then he refuses to allow Jim to go through the transported, utterly against risking his life despite the lives of the landing party in the balance. McCoy is worried about what is of concern at that moment, as we already saw in The Corbomite Manuever, and in this case it's Jim.

Kirk is left in the middle. He sees both sides, but in his current safe that's as far as it can go. He can't make a decision on what to do. He can't make any command decision, even needing Spock to take over talking to Sulu at one point. Thus, Kirk's left with the two and can neither choose nor compromise, ultimately just having Spock keep working on the transporters and McCoy conduct an autopsy. It shows how important both perspectives are, but as his role is to normally mediate it, we also see how it is when he can't. The two sides are left unresolved. It ends well enough with Kirk ultimately going through with the transporters, but it still shows how much Kirk both needs Spock and McCoy and how much they need him.

So with all that said, my final thoughts? This is a great episode. Great plot and concept, great pacing, great character moments with Kirk especially, it's all very well done. I guess Shatner's acting isn't going to be for everyone, but I think it worked alright, and I think he did pretty well with Bad Kirk's breakdown at the end. The only thing holding it back is that one part that unfortunately bogs it down enough that I can't give a perfect rating still. But all that said, this is one I'd very much revisit if I felt like it. I had a lot of fun coming back to this one, and I'm glad I did.

Original Ranking: 4.5/5.

Rewatch Ranking: 8/10

[My TOS Reviews]

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[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 3: The Crown

Chapter 20

****note from Wrey- this one's pretty heavy****

We don’t talk about the drawing contest. It was a little too soul baring. But we do start spending more time together, acting like real neighbors who don’t actively avoid each other. The closer my Victory Tour gets, the more time we spend together. There are speeches to write—a general, use-it-in-every-district speech, and then short, personalized additions for the districts whose tributes I was allies with—and emotions to deal with. And I finally understand what Finnick was really talking about with the shark that stops swimming forward. I get bogged down in the speeches, distracted in fragmented memories, Stitch’s laugh, Elsie’s unflappable demeanor, Mako’s face lighting up when we opened a parachute basket to find cinnamon rolls. I fade out all the time, so much so that there are whole days I can’t account for. I can’t fall asleep. I can’t concentrate. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Finnick, who started this endeavor with a very teacher-y attitude, soon gives up. When I fall asleep on the couch in the middle of writing a speech, he drapes a blanket over me and lets me sleep. On the days when I don’t want to think about any of it, he doesn’t make me. Instead we read or play marbles. Sometimes I don’t write, I just talk. And then, a week before we are due to leave on the Victory Tour, he hands me a stack of notecards, labeled by district.

“I just listened to what you said when you were in a talking mood, and eventually I got them cobbled together.” He smiles a little. “You do still have to read them out loud though, so… we should probably practice that.”

I nod, but can’t bring myself to do it that day. Instead, I sit on Finnick’s couch, wrapped in a blanket, playing a very slow and half-hearted game of solitaire. I sit there all afternoon. I don’t move when Finnick gets up and makes supper. He brings me a plate, and I push the shrimp and noodles around for an hour. Then we go back to sitting in silence.

At midnight, Finnick stands up. “Come on.”

I look up.

“If we achieve nothing else today, I’m making you get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” I mumble.

“Yes you are.”

I shake my head.

“Annie, I am still your mentor. You have to trust that in this instance, I know what’s best for you, and I am still trying to keep you alive, and I am helping.” And then he picks me up over one shoulder and walks upstairs.

I don’t bother resisting. It takes too much energy, too much concentration.

I notice vaguely that he has nicer pillows in his spare bedroom than we do. Except after he tucks me in, Finnick crawls into bed next to me and I have the oddly emotionless realization that this is his room. There might not even be pillows in the spare bedrooms here. What company would he have to ever be prepared for?

“Once when I was little, my mom was teaching me how to fillet fish. She had me up on a stool next to the kitchen counter, and she usually cut them up so fast, but that day she was being really methodical and slow and talking me through what she was doing. And then I blinked, and she’d cut her finger off at the knuckle.”

Laying on my back, I turn my head to look at him. “Please tell me you didn’t eat the fish.”

He smiles. “Better, she’d been planning it for days and had only very convincingly pretended to cut her finger off. She laughed and laughed, and I was traumatized. I had nightmares about it for a week. She felt so bad. But looking back… that’s just a good joke right there. And so well executed.”

I roll onto my side. I suspect these stories will require more reaction than the usual fare.

“Another time, she was trying to teach me how to tie my shoes—believe it or not, there was once a time when I couldn’t even tie a square knot—but I was so convinced I couldn’t do it, that finally one day she showed me how to do it, and helped me tie them, then untied them and made me do it myself. I got so frustrated when I couldn’t, so she agreed to keep tying them for me. But then she tied a knot and tugged on it to tighten it, and it just fell apart. She did it again, and the same thing happened, and the fourth time she just dissolved into tears and said she was sorry but she’d forgotten how to tie shoes and now I’d never have my shoelaces tied again. And I felt so bad that I’d done this to my mom that pretty soon I was comforting her and telling her it would be okay and that I thought I could remember how to do it, and then I tied my shoes. And that was when my fascination with knots started. Of course I found out years later when I realized that she’d been tying her own shoes just fine all that time that my mom had lied to me, but again, in hindsight, it’s a good joke and apparently a great way to teach your kid how to tie his shoes.”

I pull the blanket up to my chin and nod.

“And when I was eight, my dad gave me my first trident, which ended up being the trident I used to kill all those seagulls for Beck a few years later…”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming in through the window, curled up next to Finnick, who is snoring. I have to leave.

I don’t get far.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I come around in a closet full of coats that aren’t mine. Somewhere, a door slams.

“Annie?” The shout echoes through the house. “Annie?”

I wonder how long it has been. A while.

“Annie?” The shouts are closer. I wish I knew where I was. Then I would know how to leave, how to escape without encountering anyone. I shrink back into a corner of the closet, wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes.

The door opens.

“Annie!”

There is a hand on my shoulder. I try to escape, to scramble backwards, to run, but stupidly, I have already backed myself into a corner. I should know better than this.

Finnick’s hand is still on my shoulder. “Annie, it’s alright.”

“No!” I lurch for the door, pushing past him. “I can’t! It’s not-! Stop!” I yank my arm away from the fingers around my wrist. There. I am free to leave, to run, to… to what?

We stare at each other.

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re going to say, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I used to be happy! Do you understand? Happy!”

I get no reaction, so I keep going. “I had a normal life! Friends, neighbors, family! I had Mako! I’d never killed anyone and I didn’t want to and all I did was go to school and go to work and live my life! And now everyone treats me differently! They look at me differently, and they think I don’t notice but I do! And every day I wake up and the first thing I feel is guilty! Because I came back and no one else did! Not Zalea, not Merritt, not Elsie or Stitch, and not Mako! And every day I have to live with that! And sometimes I don’t completely hate myself and I think I’m getting better, but then there’s this-” I gesture wildly, “-I don’t even know what this is, but it makes me feel even more guilty, and what am I supposed to do? Just live with it? I-”

Something snaps. “You think I haven’t gone through all that too? That I’m not right there with you, drowning in guilt and what-ifs? This is life now! There’s nothing else we can do with it! I would love nothing more than to curl up and die and be done with it, but that’s not an option! I will not be the shark that drowns!”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

My house is quiet. I sit in the downstairs study and read the speeches on the notecards and whatever happens happens. It takes me a whole day to get through them. And then I spend another whole day getting through them again. Part of me thinks it is good that the personal speeches will be at the beginning, in Eleven, Ten, and Eight. But then I remember that the last speech will be in Four. And I remember that I will then spend Districts Seven through One knowing what the families of my allies look like, how they react to what I say about their children, how they look at me when they see me with a crown on my head, when it could have been their child instead. And I have lost Finnick. Dad does his best, but he’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t know what I’m going through, so he can only do so much. I don’t hold it against him. I can’t. None of this is his fault.

The week passes in a haze. And then my prep team arrives.

They are all joyful screams and laughter, hugging me and telling me how much they’ve missed me. I can’t even work up the energy to respond. Even Marius looks happy to see me, but rearranging my face into any semblance of a smile is too much effort. They dress me and curl my hair and paint my nails and talk and sometimes I nod, but mostly I sit, staring into the space in front of me. I am drowning.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We get on the train the next morning. Mags is not there, and for the first time, I come to terms with the knowledge that Finnick was my mentor, and it is Finnick I am stuck with. I haven’t even seen him since our shouting match. And now we are on the train together. At least Casca, Marius, and the Preps are there. They create a sort of buffer between the two of us.

Finnick is back to his old self. He talks and laughs with everyone. This makes it easier to ignore him. I can spend the day in my room and come out only when I am so hungry I can’t stand it.

The train goes on all day, stopping only to refuel. I read the District Twelve speech over and over until I have it memorized. I wonder if I will be able to muster up any emotion at all when I read it. I probably should, but I doubt I will. I barely sleep that night, much to the horror of the prep team. It turns out I have looked terrible and sleep-deprived for a while now, and one more sleepless night has made it that much worse. They combat the circles under my eyes with lots of makeup.

All Marius has to say is, “At least we know you don’t have any food stuck between your teeth.” He’s not wrong.

The speech in Twelve goes about as well as I expected it to. I am flat, barely there, and I fade out for a good thirty seconds somewhere in the middle. The only good thing about this is that I have successfully matched the mood of Twelve. They have a reputation for the most lackluster parties because they are the poorest district and they never have anyone to celebrate. The bigger, richer districts have actual parties, but it is because they know that if they didn’t win this year, they probably will next year. Twelve doesn’t have that kind of hope, or that kind of budget. Add to that the fact that the boy from Twelve would have won if I had just drowned ten minutes earlier, and they are downright sullen. But so am I, so I doubt it matters.

We get back on the train and depart for Eleven. The mood is much more subdued than it was yesterday, even than this morning when there was perhaps still a faint ray of hope that I would be able to pull myself out of whatever this is. But I haven’t. I can’t. I am drowning.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I don’t even remember what happens in Eleven. One of the Preps tells me my little speech about Zalea was beautiful. I make a mental note to thank Finnick for writing it, then I remember Finnick and I aren’t talking to each other.

At some point it occurs to me that Mako would not be happy about what I’ve become. But what does it matter? He’s dead. He has no say over my life, if I can even call this existence a life.

In Ten, I read my regular speech, then I look at the families. Elsie’s mom looks just like her. Merritt… with Merritt’s family stands another man, who looks as worn down, depressed, and terrible as I feel. It is Alvan. Alvan, who is too young to be Merritt’s father, but could quite feasibly be his uncle. Who must be his uncle, from the resemblance between him and the older man who can only be Merritt’s father. I read two sentences from the speech, and then I crack.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are back on the train. I am in my bed, covered by a pile of blankets. I can hear the voices, the screaming, the sounds of death. I am the one screaming.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are still on the train. There is a doctor standing next to my bed, looking at a notepad. He is talking to someone I can’t see without moving my head. Moving my head is too much work.

“She’s fine, physically. Maybe a little underfed, but there’s nothing we can do if she’s decided she won’t eat. Mentally, though…”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are back in Four. I am in my room in my house. I am still piled with blankets. I force myself to look around. This can’t be right. I’m supposed to be in… Nine? I wonder what day it is. I wonder if the Victory Tour is over, if we finished it and I just don’t remember, if I lived through it the way I’ve lived through so much, just drifting through in a haze. I roll onto my side and see him, asleep in a chair.

Finnick.

After a very long time, he wakes with a start, reaching for anything to use as a weapon. Then he takes a deep breath, visibly calming down. He looks at me and his face floods with relief. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

“What?” I rasp. It must have been quite a while since we were in Ten. I sound like I haven’t talked in weeks.

“The doctor said you just shut down. Gave up. Something like that. They said they couldn’t help you, because you didn’t want to be helped. So all we could do was bring you back here and hope for the best.” He stands up. “Your dad told me to call him when you woke up and he’d come home and trade me.”

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Please stay.”

I am amazed when he obeys, sitting back down.

“What happened?”

“They cancelled the rest of the tour.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It was live. Everyone in Ten, and everyone who happened to be watching at home… they all saw it.”

“How’d they spin it?”

“Said you were sick. Had been for a while, but you were trying to soldier through for the districts because you knew how much they loved seeing their victors. You know, the usual pack of lies. Anyway, they said it finally just caught up to you and you were hallucinating because of the fever and then you passed out, and they sent you back to Four so the doctors could treat you at home.”

“What really happened?”

He takes a deep breath. “I think you noticed Alvan. And then I don’t know what went through that mind of yours because historically I’ve been bad at figuring that out, but you just… screamed. Like somebody was ripping it out of you. One of the Peacekeepers tried to help you, get you off the stage and inside, and you put up a good fight. So I stepped in and… helped. And we were walking you into the Justice Building when you just dropped. That was when they got a doctor and sent us on our way to the Capitol. We were there for…” he pauses, thinking about it, “…four days. You woke up once and went crazy on them. Attacked one of the doctors,” Finnick smiles a little. “You almost broke out of the med center. They had to send me after you.”

“Bet you enjoyed that.”

“Maybe a little. It’s been a while since I had a good fight.”

I smile.

“After that they kept you under while they ran every test they could think of and pumped you full of fluids and all that fun stuff. And when they decided there wasn’t anything wrong with you they could fix, they just announced that your illness was much more serious than anyone thought and that you were being sent back to Four for treatment and that the Tour was cancelled.”

“Oh.”

“The doctors wanted to make sure you weren’t faking, so they… they called everyone they could think of. Guess they all gave satisfactory answers because when they finally asked me about it, they believed me.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth.”

“That I was getting better and then the very idea of having to do the tour set me off?”

“I told them it happens all the time. Not usually this bad, but sometimes pretty bad.”

“But it doesn’t happen all the time. Or, it didn’t, I guess.”

He gives me a strange look. “It happens all the time. You don’t always go as far as hiding in a closet for four hours and not remembering any of it—most of the time we’re eating, or talking, or playing a game, or reading, and you look up and your eyes slide out of focus and you’re not there anymore. And it’s not for long, only a second or two. Sometimes you’re even still talking, but some part of you just steps out for a bit, then comes right back in.”

“Oh.”

He chews his lip and takes a long breath. “Annie… I’m sorry. About a lot of things.”

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. Just hear me out. Please.”

I nod.

“I don’t know how to help you. It is all I want to do, but I can’t. I barely got myself through being a victor, and I have no idea how to do it for you. I am trying my best, but it’s not enough and I’m so frustrated and sad and… sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you got reaped, I’m sorry Mako got reaped with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more while you were in the arena. I’m sorry you had to come out alone. I’m sorry you had to sit on stage alone and watch your Games. I’m sorry you had to come home and try to fit back into your old life even though it was impossible. I’m sorry I… about that night at my house.”

I should say something, but I don’t.

“When I woke up I knew… that was the best I’d slept in years, and I knew it was a mistake. And I was going to apologize, but you weren’t there. So I went to find you to apologize. To make it right, right away, because I knew what you were thinking. I knew how complicated it had to feel. I went to your house, and you weren’t there. I asked Mags and she hadn’t seen you, and neither had Beck, and neither had the old guys fishing at the pier. I went to your old house. You weren’t there. I went to your dad’s office on the docks and he hadn’t heard from you since the morning before. By the time I got back to my house I was… Annie, I was scared out of my mind. Four hours, that’s how long I’d been looking for you, and when I finally did find you, I was so relieved that you were there and alive and hadn’t, I don’t know, walked yourself off the pier or something because you couldn’t take it anymore, and I was so scared that you had snapped and you would just be a shell walking around going through the motions… I forgot why it was so important that I find you.”

He trails off. I don’t know how to respond to all that, but it does come with some concerning new information. “I was gone for four hours?”

He nods. “Honestly it might’ve been longer. It was a little over four hours from the time I woke up to when I found you hiding in the closet in my third spare bedroom.”

And I don’t remember any of it. “I had no idea. I thought it was, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes, half an hour.” Wow. “I’m sorry I… lost it on you.”

“No need to apologize. We maybe should have had that discussion sooner. You had a lot of stuff to get out.”

I nod. “I just… I never felt like I could tell anyone how I was feeling or what I was going through because they’d try to help, and I didn’t want anyone to help, I just wanted them to listen and not look at me like I was going crazy. And I didn’t realize until after that it was always you. But being around you makes me feel guilty. Like I shouldn’t feel the way I feel when you’re around.” I stop. I just said that out loud. Now I really do want to walk off the pier.

But Finnick is smiling. A very small smile, but also a very genuine one. “I won’t tell anyone your little secret. And don’t worry, you snuck up on me too.” And with that, he stands and leaves the room. I hear him go downstairs and begin rattling around in the kitchen.

What does that mean? I snuck up on him? I’m good at a lot of things, but sneaking my six-foot, red-headed self around has never been one of them.

Finnick comes back in a few minutes later with an entire pot of coffee in one hand and two mugs in the other. He hands me the one that is already full.

“I know you’re crazy and don’t like coffee, so I made you hot chocolate. And I am going to drink this whole pot by myself.” He pours himself a cup. “Called your dad. He’ll be here as soon as he can. Said he was going to pick up chocolate rolls on the way.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Finnick does indeed drink the whole pot of coffee. He is on the last cup when Dad gets home, dripping with winter rain but triumphantly carrying a box of chocolate rolls. These he drops unceremoniously on Finnick’s lap when he enters the room and wraps me in a hug.

“I was so worried. So worried. Please don’t do that again.”

I nod into his shoulder.

“I know you can’t help it, but… Annie, we want to help you, if only you’ll let us.”

I nod again. “I know. But it’s hard.”

My father puts his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “I know. I know I can’t ever fathom what you went through and what it did to you and how you feel at any given time. But I can be here for you. Okay?”

I smile a little. “Okay.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I am supposed to be on bedrest, so we all stay in my room eating all the chocolate rolls until suppertime. Then Dad goes down and makes a quick meal of rice and clams and a new pot of coffee, which I sense is a point of contention between him and Finnick, and then brings it all upstairs so we can eat together. After supper, he asks if I want him to stay home from work the next day.

I shake my head. “Just because my life is completely upside-down doesn’t mean yours needs to be. Besides, somebody has to tell the crew I’m still alive and on the mend.”

Dad nods. “They’ve been worried about you. Wanted to come visit, but I told them to wait until you were ready for that much company.”

I nod. My crew is a lot to handle. “Thanks. Tell them to give me a few days and then we’ll see what we can do.”

He smiles. “That I can do. Now, I’m going to go to bed. One of the crews is short-handed, so yours truly gets to do some real work tomorrow.”

I wait until I hear his bedroom door close to turn to Finnick. “Will you stay?”

Finnick nods, pouring another cup of coffee. “As long as you want.”

****

****

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@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[friendball-irl]

*sips coffee*

Hey, y'all. I'm back with the milk.

(OOC blog "patch notes" under the cut)

Hey! Been a while, huh? Though I'd get back into pokeblogging; I've been missing interacting with y'all!

Couple things I'd like to acknowledge moving forward, however.

First, I'm not gonna be participating in any "high stakes pokereality" content. I have nothing against it, especially considering my involvement helping with the guidelines and such, it's just a matter of me wanting to keep the blog a bit more casual/humor-focused.

Second, I'm thinking about dropping Gray's involvement in RAD. I'm not saying that RAD is no more for everyone, I'm just leaving it in your hands. Have fun with it if you want!

That's pretty much it; I just don't want to bog myself down with too much stress about interacting with too many things all at once. Apart from that, the blog's gonna stay pretty much the same!

Hope to see you guys around!

[royallyprincesslilly]

Hi ! Sorry to pop out of nowhere like that but I wanted to ask what keeps you motivated to write ? Because I've been writing for a few months but the more time goes by, the less motivated I feel.

People rarely interact with me, they just like and scroll. I'm trying to engage interactions but it doesn't work like that. I feel like I'm pouring my entire soul and energy in my writing but I don't have get much in return. I really don't know how I should feel. Sometimes, I'm wondering if my writing is the problem. I don't know. You're kind of a popular writer around here so I wanted to have your opinion or advice on the subject. If you don't mind of course.

Sorry for the long rant 😓

Hey anon.

No, you're good, no need to apologize. I am sorry it took so long to reply to this I didn't forget and I wasn't ignoring it. I get asked this a lot and I just wanted to compose something thoughtful and honest and hopefully helpful. Buckle in this will be long. I apologize in advance.

Honestly, I understand your feelings on this. I can understand it gets really hard to write when interaction is minimal. I can understand that it makes you feel like what's the point and make you want to stop or even doubt your ability to write well even when you feel like you are putting everything into your writing. I know so many people who feel this exact way and I get it.

So here we go. The advice I can give, and I hate to give it because in no way do I feel like I am qualified to give any (that damn imposter syndrome is a bi*ch🥴), is instead of writing with an expectation to get something back i.e interaction, likes, reblogs, popularity, etc, write for YOU. Write every single day, write everything you can, especially things outside your comfort zone, and genres you would be normally, try new ways of writing because through that you get stronger and better and your ideas also get stronger and better.

The one thing many don't realize is that most and probably all writers whether indie, traditionally published, freelance, or hobby go through this. Either their work isn't picked up for traditional pub, or their indie work gets such low to no sales, or their hobby writing gets little to no hits. It's a rite of passage I've learned. It is also a test to you not only as a writer but of your character and drive. either one quits and moves on or they say hell no and push forward.

For me, it means I can't just give up on it and mope because of it. If writing is truly something you (and to be clear, I use you loosely and generally, it is not pointed at you) love and wish for as a career you have to push forward through it, you have to develop really tough skin and a seriously strong neck to keep your head high and in the direction of your end goal.

When I started writing on here when the 1st Black Panther movie came out (holy hell it's been such a long ass time) my writing didn't blast off and I didn't gain tens of thousands of likes or readers who interacted regularly by liking and reblogging right away, it took time. There was no instant gratification. In fact, it took a lot of work, dedication, consistency, and effort into developing a way to set myself apart from other writers because there are a lot of us on here.

Nevertheless, for me, writing has never been primarily about interaction and things of that sort. It's been about sanity and finding a way to keep sane in this world as well as escape a little through my worlds and characters. I don't write on here and post for anyone other than me. I've found a way to let all the other stuff fall to the wayside because it will mentally trap you and make you go on this endless loop

And I know this is so much easier said than done. I get it completely. It does take time and work to change your mindset and not allow the things you mentioned to bog you down. I know the work and introspective it takes and it's hard. Yet, it is worth it.

I stay motivated because it is still fun for me. Writing is still something that doesn't feel like a job, it is something I can always depend on to get me out of a bad mood or lift my spirits when I'm not feeling my best. I stay motivated because my head still produces the ideas and it is still exciting to plot out worlds and characters who are assholes, angels, and everything in between and I still have plenty of stories to tell that I know no one else will be able to tell like I can, in the way I can, and the way I envision it.

The same is true for your writing. You have a story to tell in your way and you should write it and share it because no one will tell it like you. No one has the ability to. I doubt that your skill as a writer is the problem. That is always our go-to intrusive thought that maybe our skill is subpar or the content is not engaging enough to capture the readers. If you feel that way truly find someone you trust on here or in RL who can serve as a neutral reviewer and have them provide constructive criticism.

Push forward. I like to hold on to the saying "Build it and they will come". It's stupid but it applies to writing, write it and the readers, etc will come. It may take time but it will happen.

Also, think of it this way a like is an interaction too. Yeah, we may want paragraphs of praise or thoughts and feedback on if it was good and j get it, but a like can also be someone's way of saying "I enjoyed this, I have no thoughts that are worth sharing but I read it and enjoyed it." I know it is the bare minimum that can be done but it is something.

I am all about looking at the small victories these days, the small accomplishments, small gestures, etc. It can help.

I hope this was helpful and it didn't come off preachy, harsh or condescending because it absolutely wasn't meant that way at all.

[taviewritesstuff]

Back in Action After So Long!

Why, yes, I had to include Bugs for the title of this post. Why not XD

Anyways, this update has been a long time coming!

School has been one reason I've had spurts of activity on this site, but then there's also the fun spurts where my mental health was like a rollercoaster. March in particular was a pretty bad month for me, even though I was creating a lot of content for Super Why and such, because I was bogged down with work and had little to no motivation for school. In April and May, however, I got my crap together, and pushed through to get my GPA back up, albeit not without a lot of coffee, and lots, and I mean LOTS of correction and guidance and prayer! Long story short, work got a little easier in April-May, I was able to create art I was actually proud of, got a confidence boost in my physical appearance, changed my outlook on how I see work and creativity, updated a fic on my list, and got back into an old fandom of mine, while working on other things back and forth. Now, school is still trying to kcik my tail, but I'm right there in the mud wrestling with it, because I feel that this is a dream of mine that I want to pursue, and darn it all if I'm going to fail in it. And before you come after me with pitchforks (I know who you are XD), yes, I have been making sure I take care of myself and get adequate rest, especially during the really tough weeks.

Rediscovering my love of writing, and being reminded (yet again) of the freedom to write what I want and not care what others think, has really helped with my creativity. Recently, I've been getting downloads of absolutely wild ideas, ranging from genderbending twists on romance to ideas that would fit in an anime rather than a kids' show. And I'm loving every minute of it! Learning to have fun with my writing again has been such a liberating experience, and learning to sit back and consume media/take breaks when needed has also been something that I needed to learn. You can expect bigger, better content from me moving forward!

And speaking of bigger, better content, I'm planning on moving some stories over to AO3 and making them exclusive to that website. Stories that are going to be AO3-exclusive include both BT Redux and For Love and Glory Relance, Attero Dominatus, Dimmed Stars, Eclipsed Horizons (my Hanna-Barbera/Honkai Impact story), and POSSIBLY the remaining Super Readers' Biggest Adventure Gaiden series. I've already started cross-posting some stories from both Wattpad and Fanfiction onto my AO3 account, so let's see how it goes from here!

To quote Rocky, I ain't hear no bell! I'm only down and out when God says it's time for me to bow out!

[composeregg]

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I am so not looking forward to the wrangling headache this otw protest is going to bring.

What do you want the wranglers to do about this? What do you think this is going to accomplish? You have intent and movement but what are the outcomes?

Because right now I am seeing outcomes of high amounts of abuse reports for spam, especially if someone is not actually posting fic. I see ten thousand tag variations clogging bins. I see teams already bogged down being swamped by this.

If you want to make a difference, volunteer.

It's not easy, like changing the name of a fic to a slogan, but the abuse team could always use more members. Look for PAC recruitment and apply.

Donate to be a member, so that you can vote on the board members.

Remember that this is a completely fucking volunteer run nonprofit and even if money isn't an immediate issue manpower is. These people volunteering, the people trying to find a diversity consultant, they are doing this for free. Unpaid. In their spare time, on top of all other commitments in their lives.

"Hire a diversity consultant in 3-6 months" is by far the most time-crunch painful sentence I read. Second up, the idea that implementing a new mandatory archive warning would be easy enough to do is utterly fucking hilarious.

Do you know how much would have to go into that? What would happen to every single fic posted before then? Fics by people who are dead or gone? Fics imported via open doors in the past?

How do you want the warning the work? It can't be fan-voted on, fucking imagine the harassment.

And all the coding once these ideas are worked out? Completely volunteer. Free time. Unpaid. Unless its contracted out, which involves figuring out that contract too.

My question is: what do you want to be accomplished with this protest? What are you directly targeting with it? In what ways is this going to make things move? What outcomes are going to happen?

HOW is this going to push for the change you want?

This is drawing attention, yes, but it may also inhibit the exact processes you want improved. And the board, all the OTW, already KNOWS just how prioritized this needs to be. Making noise isn't going to magically make bureaucracy happen faster.

edit to say: I am speaking on behalf of myself, not the OTW, this reflects my thoughts, nothing official.

I am just so tired of this being brought up again and again, as if it's going to make things move faster

[redheadlesbianfreak]

Writer ask!!!! Boom 💞🤲🎀🍉

💞 What's the most important part of a story for you?

I think that the most important part for me is the characters, easily the characters! There have been a lot of really cool and interesting concepts and plots for stories that do not work for me... because the characters were either unimportant or uninteresting. I think that the heart of what makes a character truly great is the relationships they have with others. That's such an important thing to emphasize about writing stories. And yeah, you can have a fairly basic or overdone plot that's carried by its characters. However, there are some other factors that should be considered.

I really agree with @mannatea that the plot is important when it comes to longfics. And pacing is another big one when it comes to longfics. When writing longfics, it's a delicate dance between keeping the story moving forward and showcasing those quiet, character-building moments. If you don't have those quiet moments, you run the risk of the characters becoming obsolete and dehumanized. But too many of these moments, and you risk the story becoming completely bogged down in character interactions. And this is a trap I see longfics fall into a lot because it's very difficult to get all of these elements correct, especially if this is a one-man project.

🤲 What do YOU get out of writing?

Writing is rough if I'm being honest, especially because I'm still young and inexperienced. I don't think you hit a point where you can go "this is a piece of cake." The difficulty that comes with writing makes it so much more satisfying to see a story come together and say "hell yeah, I did that!" It's so important for your growth to see a vision through to the end when you carried that idea in your head for months. That's a lot harder than people give writers credit for, and you're allowed to be proud of yourself! I see my fanfiction writing as a tool to get better at writing, while also allowing myself to tell the stories I've always wanted to tell.

🎀 Give yourself a compliment about your own writing.

I've been able to execute some of the "high concepts" that I previously thought were impossible. And when I say "high concepts" I mean the concepts I've written about that have no real-world comparison. This includes cybersex! This is not everyone's cup of tea, but I got passionate about perfecting it. I tend to get in my head and tell myself I'm not good enough to execute my ideas. But when I actually sit down and attempt to do the work, I find that I can put my ideas into words. It's not easy, but you never know if you can do something until you try.

🍉"In what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?"

I don't talk about writing smut a lot on this blog, just because so many people are... weird about people who write smut. But I would like to move past worrying about what other people think. If you aren't forcing it onto others, pressuring others into reading it or making fun of people who don't like it, there's nothing wrong with writing about it. Like anything else in writing, smut/sex is a tool that can be used in a number of ways. It can be used to develop characters, it can be used to reveal things about characters, it can be used for world-building, etc.

And I used to be one of those who thought sex was this gross, inhumane thing. That it was something only straight men enjoyed, that it was used to control and dehumanize women. Fun fact about me: I grew up in a Christian household, I grew up sheltered, and I grew up in the Deep South. I didn't know anything about sex, and I didn't believe that women could *feel* sexual pleasure at all. I thought it was something that was exclusive to men. And when you grow up thinking that sex is like that, it becomes frightening. ((This is why people who aren't ace can experience sexual repulsion and sexual aversion.))

When I got older, I started to realize that I wasn't attracted to men. And then I began to develop a crush on my female friends, and each time came the shame. I felt shame for feeling attracted to women, both sexually and romantically. I felt "perverse" and awful. I felt so guilty about this side of myself. I eventually began dating my girlfriend and I got introduced to a healthy sex life. And I found out how queer people have sex, and it's not just this thing for straight men.

This is when I started writing about my sexuality in the form of short stories. I was compensating for a lack of stories about sexuality and love stories about same-sex/queer couples. I wrote about queer men and women, including ace characters. I wanted to explore all the different types of relationships people could have with sex and sexuality, the confusion that comes with not quite understanding your identity, and the journey one takes to discover their sexual identity. I like to think of this as a coming-of-age story for sexuality.

A few years later, I started reading queer smut on Ao3. I became fascinated with how people explored sexuality and characters through sex, and I wanted to write about this myself. I'd spent my entire life hearing that queer sex was disgusting and perverse. I wanted to explore how it can be loving and beautiful, so I did that. I don't think my relationship with sex and sexuality is perfect. It takes a lot to undo the trauma that comes with a childhood full of beliefs that sex is evil, that it's something that can only be between cishet men and women.

But writing smut has strengthened my relationship with sex and my sexuality. Side note: I'm now going through my gender crisis, or as I like to call it, "my gender coming of age story." Am I non-binary? Am I a trans guy? I'm not quite sure yet because I still need that time to put a label on my gender identity. But I would really like to explore gender identity, trans characters, and non-binary characters in my writing because it can help me (and others). I think that fandom is a safe place to do that since so many people are supportive of trans headcanons and stories.

[highlordofkrypton]

Ahhhh, I love this so much!

I write every single day, and in addition to the tips mentioned above, I found that these help me a lot, too.

Headcanons, plotting and outlining is writing too. These elements help me move forward towards my end goal of writing, and usually by writing these down, I get inspired to actually get down to the core writing. Even if this is ALL you do today, it counts! Nobody makes the rules, except you!

Change environments. While this might not work for everyone, when I have writer's block, I find that finding a new spot to go write in helps jog my memory into a new perspective. This can be different places in your home, or going out to a coffee shop or writing in a park, whatever you feel!

Change writing tools. This can range from changing font, dark/light mode, using new software entirely or even medium. For me, changing fonts works the most. It's like that suggestion of using Comic Sans if you have writer's block.

Indulge yourself. Sometimes, we can get bogged down by those transitional scenes, or the scenes you're not as interested in writing but are essential to the story. Maybe take a break and write something you do want to write. Heck, maybe pause the story entirely and go write something 100% self indulgent. Sometimes, that helps me boost my muse/creativity when I'm just having fun with it.

Try different styles of writing. This is by far my favourite writing exercise. I find that challenging myself to do something different usually motivates me. Are you usually a fanfiction writer? Try roleplaying! Do you usually write in the past tense? What happens when you write the present? Other things I've tried and thoroughly enjoyed: write your scene as if it was a script (dialogue focused) and making a "wikipedia" page for your character/major plot events. They were way too much fun.

Stop overthinking. Delete the pressure you've created for yourself. Sometimes, I get blocked thinking that I need to FINISH or I need to POST that update, but honestly no one is putting that pressure on me except me. Also, stop analyzing your first draft. Just get those words down. You can overanalyze in later drafts.

Anyway, these are the things that help me be consistent on a daily basis for writing.

How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

[csmingy]

Also re: Redla / Bioluminescent-Bat / Strudel Cafe (from Redla herself). I reached out to a blog who had justifiable concerns about my conduct within the communities I was in, and thought the additional info about the underlying situation was vital as well. I didn't put this into my statement on the doc to avoid taking away/bogging down the focus from the CS discourse itself, but wanted to forward it so others could see. /sun-gut/767979239469367296/hey-there-i-wanted-to-mention-with-a-quick-search?source=share

As an aside, I am all good with/prefer being called Redla within the context of the events but have taken a different pseudonym for myself + reclaimed Sunny as the other one. Blocked all the various vore tags as well, and found/blocked my abusers. It's been very good to move on and tell people about these events, even if they've been hard to process. Thank you all. Truly.

This is an add-on to the previous ask. 🍈

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