#funny how i move from a small city to a bigger city and i see more wildlife in the bigger city

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

I saw an otter running across the street on my way to work this morning so that was cool

I've never seen one in the wild before

[lexirosewrites]

Brief interlude to the Mafia story for another mob story, only this one Steve escaped from a cult

Nancy and Robin are ex's and Nancy is who got Robin into the Wheeler family business. They broke up on good terms and Robin came to make some good friends there.

In my head Steve and Robin meet because he moves into her apartment building and the two become neighbors. Both notice how the other acts a bit odd but don't think anything of it at first. Both omegas come to assumptions about the other, Steve thinks Robin left a very sheltered and controlling environment and Robin thinks Steve's from a rival family and waiting for the perfect opportunity to take her out.

Robin shares her fear with her friends before going radio silent for a few days, everyone is ready to jump into action to take revenge when she sends a message basically saying it's all good now and she was just being paranoid

Robin came back from a date to Steve standing in the hallway in front of her door with homemade pasta and gets startled when she clears her throat behind him. Steve rambles enough to give Robin herself a run for her money and he admits that he only recently got away from a cult he was born and raised in.

The meeting turns into a days long sleepover with Robin helping the other omega learn how to make a comfortable nest, how to properly do laundry and how to clean around the house. She sees how he has several self help books and how to's for omega house care and realizes that whoever left him there hasn't the first clue on how to care for an omega but made an effort. She picks up the faint scent of pups and an older alpha coming from his nest and asks about it.

Steve was saved by the chief of police of a small town who was retiring and moving to the city with his girlfriend and family, Hopper formally adopted Steve and stops by frequently to check up on him and Steve's adopted sister Jane often comes by with her friends to try out Steve's cooking.

Robin obviously doesn't come clean about what she does for work and Steve doesn't ask but now they both chalk up any odd behaviors to Steve being from a cult, Robin thinks anything Steve does that's weird is because he's from his time in a cult. Steve assumes anytime Robin does anything weird is just Robin being a self proclaimed weirdo and also his perception of most things being weird because he's not used to most things.

I think the story could mostly be a funny slice of life story between the two getting closer and Robin's horrible dating life, she'd come back to her appointment and complain to Steve about how bad all of her dates have been. Steve will continually ask her if she's talked to and asked out Chrissy because the other omega clearly likes Robin based off of the stories he's heard.

Eventually Robin and Chrissy get together and introduce Steve to all their other friends and Eddie is immediately smitten and makes an ass out of himself, he bends over backwards to make Steve's visit super comfortable and accommodating. Robin and the others lose their collective minds because Eddie is usually calm and composed when pursuing someone and here he is, in all of his dork glory.

Robin gives Eddie a shovel talk after Steve leaves. When Hopper meets the others he quickly clocks what they really do for work and sighs. He tells them how he's retired now and works at his girlfriend's bakery with his kids and her kids but if they do anything to hurt his boy there will be consequences.

While Eddie and Robin both have no plans on ever hurting Steve both come to the decision to act more and more outlandish around Hopper to see how worked up he can get a bigger reaction.

It's all supposed to be just a fun story that popped into my head the other day that I wanted to share!

brb gotta go cry about platonic soulmates stobin yet again🥲 i love them so much it hurts me

[dasnercaret]

some misc thoughts on ka bue worldbuilding! specifically relating to expressions

more thoughts under the cut!

my main concept for the Expressions as a whole revolves around names. essentially, an Expression can only exist with a literal expression of their Name somewhere in the world - their name being some sort of singular symbol / kanji / radical that represents their form, function, and essentially being. the first physical form of their name is their anchor (Expressions can change anchors though), and the more permanent the anchor is, the more powerful the Expression is. however, the more offerings - aka, further expressions of their Name an Expression recieves, the more powerful they become on top of their preexisting power from the permanence of their anchor. i imagine there's an entire scholarly split in ka bue revolving around whether One Big Elaborate Naming is more powerful or many smaller repetitive names is. for the most part though they both have about the same effect, which is why you see both shinto-style paper prayers attached to the pillars of the little shrine and a significant amount of more elaborate Offerings piled up around the anchor to the Expression.

- bonus thought here about little kids learning to Craft stone into geometric shapes as being the equivalent of vaugardians learning to craft clay into moving change god figurines! ka bue is pretty clearly Against / neutral to change and movement especially compared to Transgender Heaven Vaugarde, so i thought this was apt - there is also something here about the open-plan nature of the temple (wind can move freely through it, and people can visit and leave as they please) but i don't quite have enough thought here to fulfill it fully in worldbuilding. so i will leave the thought here for someone else to hopefully pick up - similar to shintoism, i imagine there are a lot of expressions dedicated to unique locations and places. for example, there are a lot of local Expressions (this one is one of them) that are specifically tasked with guarding a certain rural village or blessing a certain graveyard. the bigger and more popular expressions (victory, search, protection, luck, etc) are invoked much more often and by extension have far more elaborate temples though, probably located centrally in major cities. - bonus thought that i haven't really explored here about a bunch of the most famous temples being underground caves, due to the gem connections. - these temples would also probably have the expression names carved into them, similar to arabic architecture (see the alhambra's carvings) carving the name of god in stone into their walls. which btw i still think is one of the coolest things humans have done i LOVE spanish and arabian architecture

- some bonus thoughts about gems! i mainly conceptualized them in the doodles as being primarily anchors for expressions (metal and gems are prime expression worship material due to their permanence meaning that you can permanently express the Expression) but i also had a thought while typing up this tumblr post that maybe entire family trees could be represented this way as physical metal-and-gem trees, since odile mentions that people are commonly turned into gems. - bonus thought here regarding odile's "gems alive" swear - if gems are the remains of passed ancestors, not only is she swearing by her / other ancestors (which is very distinctly east asian) but also saying something along the lines of 'the dead are coming back to life because of how insane this is'. which i thought was funny - one final scribble regarding prayer flags! i imagine the paper prayers people write to Expressions as filling a very similar niche as shinto ofuda/shide and buddhist prayer flags, that is small throwaway prayers that gain power when accumulated in large amounts. and more importantly they look cool as hell - i don't know how common prayer trees would be (in my research shintoism commonly worships trees, and china also often venerates especially old trees (there are trees in beijing that are supposedly over 1000 years old, and some that are confirmed over 800 years old) so i think ka bue might do the same? maybe??? trees aren't really permanent though which is kind of more what i was going for in my head regarding their cultural beliefs. you can cut down a tree but you can't easily destroy a gem

[digitaldiarystuff]

FRIENDS?

Hello everyone, this is my digital diary which I’ll pour what’s in my head. Hope you enjoy my writing and feel free to reach out to me!

— — — —

summary: you’ve met Jude through your close friend which put you in the same friend group but even though you’ve fancied him from the jump you’re also scared because you know how footballers can be

pairing: Y/N - Jude Bellingham

genre: angst / fluff

— — — —

“Are you done putting the decorations up?” your friend Chris asked. This was his christmas party and you were helping him add the finishing touches.

“Yeah I’m almost done. Don’t worry it’s going to be great.” you said reassuringly.

“I know but this is my first christmas in Madrid and I want everything to be perfect.” he said coming to the living room to see the final product.

You have known Chris since you were in high school, your parents knew each other and you were cordial until the end of high school when you both decided to move to a bigger city. You, for education and him to pursue his music career which has been great so far. He had put out 2 albums in 2 years and had big success.

When you were new to the city, you two bonded over the loneliness you sometimes felt and that prompted your close friendship. Even as he gained followers and became famous, he made sure you were with him. He invited you to events, referred to you as a sister in interviews.

“It’s going to be amazing!” you exclaimed as the doorbell rang. He went to open the door welcoming his friends which consisted of some influencers, producers and even one or two footballers who listened to him and invited him to games.

You hugged them as everyone was coming in and complimenting the party and you. Being one of the few people who wasn’t a celebrity, you’ve put a lot of effort into your appearance tonight. You wanted to look good.

“Hello, darling.” you heard someone say and you absolutely knew who he was. It was Jude freaking Bellingham. You’ve met Jude through Chris as well and you’ve formed a semi close friendship over the last couple months, though you couldn’t help but develop a massive crush on the guy from the day you’ve seen him. He was everything you’d wanted, handsome, nice, sassy, tall and funny but you always remained cool. Even though you sometimes felt his eyes on you for too long or his hand on the small of your back, you knew how they were and you couldn’t blame him. He’s in his prime and playing for one of the most prestigious clubs in the world, he could get anyone he wanted and you reminded yourself that a couple of times a day just to get him out of your mind.

“Hi Jude!” you said and hugged him.

“You look incredible.” he said while his nose was in your hair, the hug lasted an eternity before you decided to pull back.

“Thank you, you look great too.” you said slightly blushing. He had this kind of effect on you, he said things that wouldn’t normally make you feel things like this. He really looked amazing, though. He was wearing a black button up shirt since this was a special occasion but you knew whatever he was wearing didn’t matter he just was devastatingly handsome.

“Okay, let’s get this party started!” Chris yelled as everyone around you cheered including Jude.

It had been a couple of hours into the party and everyone was pretty wasted at this point. You were also a little dizzy but not too bad. It was going great with games and traditions and right now you were sitting on the couch between Chris and Sofie, one of your friends and playing cards when your eyes caught Jude’s. He was out by the pool and drinking alone, deep in thoughts.

You excused yourself and went over to him. He didn’t notice you until you were just in front of him.

“Don’t party this much, you might regret it tomorrow.” you said in a teasing voice.

“How can I enjoy myself if you’re far from me?” he asked in the same tone.

“I-you could’ve come to me.” you mumbled in a newly found confidence. Maybe you shouldn’t have had that last glass of champagne.

“You wanna sit?” he asked as he slides on the sunbed. You carefully sat next to him hoping you weren’t in his space much but on the contrary, Jude felt like you were too far away and gently placed his hand on your waist pulling you closer.

“This is better.” he mumbled, clearly more intoxicated than you’ve ever seen him. He was always a flirty person with you but this was next level.

“What were you thinking?” you asked suddenly remembering seeing him sitting alone silently.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything.” he answered but you just raised your brow.

“What? I wasn’t!” he said like a kid that’s been caught.

“I know you better than that Bellingham.” you said.

“Well, if you really know me, you tell me what I was thinking.”

“That’s not how this works!” you exclaimed laughing. He joined after hearing you.

“I was thinking about you.”

“What were you thinking about me?”

“I was thinking” he trailed off. You decided to wait and not pester him.

“…about you.” he confessed and looked up to your eyes staring intensely. It’s like he was trying to read your thoughts about his confession.

“Jude” you said, sighing. You wanted to believe his words so bad but seeing every footballer you know being a player, you found it hard to believe.

“Y/N” he said in the same tone, trying to get your attention to him.

“It’s true, I was thinking of you.” he tried again.

“You’re just drunk.” you chuckled slightly trying to lift the mood. You were in denial, hoping he would just stop this before you say how you feel about him embarrassing yourself because you were too close to saying how you always think about him as well.

“I am.” he accepted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

You gulped and your eyes closed for a second before you opened them again and saw him even closer than before. Your eyes shifted to his lips and he watched your every move carefully. Just as he was leaning in, one of your drunken friends yelled out to you stating she was going home before being sick. You turned to her immediately afraid that she’d realize what’s going on but she was too wasted to even see anything. You got up and went to her without even glancing at Jude embarrassed about being this afraid. It wasn’t like you haven’t thought about kissing him, it was just you knew he was drunk and didn’t want to be just someone for him to spend the night with and leave without caring.

One by one, everyone started leaving. It was just Chris, his situationship, you, 2 of his friends and Jude. The night had slowed down and you were just on the couch talking about life until Chris took his lady’s hand and took her upstairs before telling you to crash wherever you want to.

You started cleaning up before going up to the guest bedroom that was designated for you. You took a trash bag from the kitchen trying to empty plates until you felt another presence in there with you. It was Jude.

“Did they leave?” you asked, trying to make conversation. You were still pretty nervous about your moment out by the pool.

“Yeah.” he said shortly. Just as he was bringing the glasses on the counter he stumbled and nearly broke them before pulling himself together.

“You’re barely walking straight, just stop Jude.” you said laughing.

“No, I’m not!” he said offended.

“C’mon.” you said taking his hand in yours to help him balance, taking him to the guest bedroom. He drove there and there’s no way you were letting the starboy of football drunk drive on christmas.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked like a child.

“The guest bedroom, you need to sleep.”

He didn’t protest, just followed you but held your hand harder. Just then you realized how you were holding hands but didn’t want to make it awkward and pull your hand back.

You entered the room followed by Jude and sat him on the bed. He still didn’t let go of your hand. You tried pulling back but he didn’t let you.

“Jude, you need to rest.” you said smiling softly.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m going downstairs to clean up a little and rest too.” you explained.

“Where?”

You actually now realized this is the only spare bedroom in Chris’ home.

“On the couch.” you said sounding more like a question.

“No you’re not.” he said making you sit down with him.

“Yes I am, we can’t fit in one bed.” you said terrified about the possibility of sleeping next to Jude. You already knew you couldn’t even relax just hold your breath the entire night.

“Are you calling me fat?” he asked, smiling.

“No, I’m calling you big.”

“I heard girls like that.” he smugly said. Of course girls liked it, especially me.

“Well, some girls do.”

“And you don’t?” he asked curiously.

“Jude, you’re wasted. Just sleep.” you said trying to change the subject.

“I’m not even tipsy Y/N. I’ve only had 2 beers.” he said like it was obvious.

“What-Well you looked drunk.” you said shocked.

“That was the only way to get you to pay attention to me. Look, you’re taking care of me.” he said motioning your intertwined hands.

“Well, that’s what friends are for.” you said looking down.

“Yeah, friends do that. But we’re not friends.” he said before leaning in and capturing your lips with his and kissing you softly.

[anncanta]

***

It's funny to watch how the representatives of the Tolkien fandom and not only, are, well, brutally hurt by the series The Rings of Power. I'll be fair, I haven't fallen in love with the first season – I rewatch it now. But the second season took me over at once. And it is wonderful precisely in the way that Tolkienists criticize it.

I didn't immediately understand this, and I needed to watch almost the entire second season to realize what it was. What's the trick there.

Here's the thing. We've all (including the Tolkien fandom) gotten used to the narrative and visual style of Peter Jackson's films. These films are great. But they have one major flaw, which only becomes apparent when compared to other works in the so-called world of Tolkien.

I was able to catch in on it just after I watched almost all of Season 2 of The Rings of Power and started watching clips from Season 1 and The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion games on YouTube. One of those from Rings of Power was the scene where Galadriel and Hallbrand arrive in Numenor. The ship slowly sails into the harbor and passes giant statues that are bigger than the ship itself.

And then it dawned on me. I immediately saw not only the size of the statues (and their discrepancy with normal human height) but also a significant portion of the camera angles in Jackson's films and games that are made from the bottom up.

You see, the entire figurative system of Jackson's films and games based on The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion is built on grandeur, enormity, scale – on those things that are commonly called ‘epic’ in the fandom.

In Jackson's world, everything is big, everything is shown at an angle, through the eyes of a very small creature, who looks at large and beautiful elves. His narrative itself begins with Galadriel, who is huge and beautiful. And then suddenly it moves to the Shire, where everything is so small, prosaic, and even a hobbit man cannot kiss a girl if a bagel is carried nearby.

How narcissistic it all is. Beautiful, no doubt, but narcissistic. It is clear that the entire saga of the ring and especially The Silmarillion is largely about elves and for elves, told by elves. But here's the thing. Their author was a Luddite and, as they would say now, a lover of um ... greatness. That greatness, imperial. Therefore, all these ancient kings and great cities, large-scale wars, and elven rulers were important to him.

And what is important to the authors of the series?

A bunch of people in reviews have been asking this question for the second year. But in fact, everything is very simple.

When I saw this huge Numenor, I remembered that in the elven kingdoms in the series, everything is not so big. Their houses and palaces are beautiful, flying, elegant. But not huge. The statue of Feanor in Eregion is of relatively normal height. It is slightly taller than the average elf. Why?

Because what we see in The Rings of Power is a story told from the point of view of the elves, only not passed through the enthusiastic perception of a rabid fan. Elves there look like people because elves do not look at their own kind as superbeings whose appearance knocks you off your feet. Normal creatures do not look at their own kind like that. And elves, with all their shortcomings, are normal.

That is why Galadriel in the series is so different – wild, strange, capricious, angry, pugnacious, vengeful, beautiful, loving. She is different because she is alive.

Peter Jackson's Galadriel is very beautiful – but she is not an elf, but an inhumanly beautiful android. There is nothing warm, real, breathing about her. She is literally a robot. This is quite consistent with the period that the films are about – by that time, both the elves themselves and their world were preserved and turned into a museum. Nevertheless, when you look at them now, you feel a little uneasy. How can this statue want good to win, you think, looking at Galadriel. How is she even capable of wanting anything?

The series very subtly, at the level of interaction between the characters, shows who the elves are, what they want, how they live in this time, and why their time has passed.

One of the most fascinating themes of the second season is the unfolding idea that trying to stop aging and dying can cause an even greater catastrophe that will destroy everything.

This is what Sauron catches them with. With the desire to stop time. With their enormous power, which lasts and lasts, so that at some point they stop understanding that what has outlived its usefulness cannot be preserved – it can only be embalmed.

I am delighted with the way the rings of power are shown in the second season. The writers almost directly tell us that they are Horcruxes. And that is what they are, literally – in the Egyptian sense. J.K. Rowling's Horcruxes go back to the Egyptian tradition of embalming when the organs of the deceased are laid out in separate vessels and placed next to the sarcophagus so that the dead person can be resurrected in the afterlife.

The Rings of Power series takes this metaphor and shows that when the elves try to artificially glue together a broken world, that world does not stop growing old and dying – its inhabitants begin to go mad.

It is literally physically painful to watch this understanding come to Galadriel, then to Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor. These powerful beings, perhaps for the first time in their lives, are confronted with perhaps the most important thought in their lives – the most important thing is not what is enclosed in glass.

The shadow of Feanor bends over them, and in this, there is more mystery and redemption than in Galadriel's rejection of the master ring, which some Tolkienists see as the end of the fall of the elves and the return of hope for forgiveness to the elves.

When the elves began to die, they became alive. And this is the real miracle.

One of the best scenes that shows this transformation is Celebrimbor working in the tower. In order to keep Celebrimbor focused on the creation of the rings, Sauron has trapped him in an illusion where everything is fine and Eregion is living its normal life, while in reality, outside the walls of the tower, there is a living hell – an army of orcs is storming the city, and the tower is shaking. Celebrimbor works, oblivious to everything around him, until he pauses and notices that reality is ‘repeating’: the same mouse runs across the floor, and the candle in front of him burns without burning out.

At this point, Celebrimbor has a choice – to look away and continue working, because that is what he wanted – for everything to be calm and nothing to change – or to try to understand what is happening and break the cycle.

Do you understand? The rings have power not because they control consciousness (although they influence it quite strongly), but because they mean repetition. There is no other way to prolong life indefinitely. Only to loop. It is not a coincidence that they are rings – a symbol of infinity – ouroboros.

Tolkien was a Christian, but in his text, he got stuck in paganism. Christianity differs from paganism not in the number of gods, but in the direction of the soul and spirit. As the finale of Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia said – ‘further up and further in’. The pagan world is a world of eternal return, a circular repetition of the annual cycle, tied, like elves, to this world. Christianity breaks the circle and shows the way forward.

Why did Tolkien get stuck? After all, at the end of The Lord of the Rings, the elves leave Middle-earth, leaving it to people, that is, a change of formation occurs. Yes, it happens, only the elves leave for Valinor. To a static paradise, which the Valar created because they could not make the earth a paradise. By the way, as far as I know, they did not ask themselves whether the earth should have been a paradise. They had to prepare the earth for the coming of the children of Eru, but what does it mean to prepare? Polish it to a shine? Or ‘loosen it up’ and create potency?

The authors of the series about the rings are reproached for not knowing what they are doing. Oh, they know it. They understand very well what they are doing. Their story is about life and about the fact that life does not fit into frames and cannot be forcibly formed. Life can only blossom.

Life does not need power. It needs light and love.

[thebennettdiaries]

the oak king (v)

( directly follows this drabble )

Bonnie doesn't think she will ever get used to driving on the other side of the road. It's funny --- she hasn't even been in the United States in nearly a year but she still cringes as the car careens around a corner.

"You look a little green, witch," Klaus comments dryly. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and then for good measure, stamps his foot down on the gas. The engine protests for a moment (this car had been the best they could find given the circumstances) but eventually gives in, pressing Bonnie's back against her seat.

She resists the urge to give him a look for that move. Instead she takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering close. "How long have you been back on this side of life?" she asks, deciding to change the subject.

"Since yesterday."

A 'day old' and already driving. How fast they grow up.

"Where did you come to?" She opens one eye and sees another car barreling at them, wheels gripping the snow covered pavement precariously. She squeaks and then squeezes her eyes tightly. She can hear Klaus chuckle next to her. "Stop enjoying this."

"Forgive me," he drawls. "But it has been so long since I had any fun." She can feel the car slow some and nearly breathes a sigh of relief. "To answer your question, when I became aware I was in Wistman's Wood."

Bonnie's eyes open for good and she finds herself staring at him, taken aback. "Wistman's Wood? Are you sure?"

"So said the farmer I ate soon after," Klaus confirms and simply shrugs at the look she gives him for his confession of murder.

Bonnie's teeth catch her bottom lip as she considers what he has told her. Wistman's Wood is known to her. On the surface, it is a oak forest --- but it has a long history of being connected to the mystical, especially the Wild Hunt. She knows what that symbolizes. Catastrophe. If the Wild Hunt appears, death soon follows. It can't be a coincidence that he woke there.

"And you were alone?"

"Yes, just me, the frozen ground and snow softly following. Poetic if you think about it," Klaus muses before growing serious. "What is the importance of this place?"

"Wistman's Wood is attached to a lot of folklore: dangerous omens, hauntings, hellhounds --- it's supernaturally charged so I think there is a reason you were pulled through the veil there. The spell probably had to be anchored in nature somehow. It takes a lot of power to bring back the dead. Especially when the dead is..." She trails off, refusing to point out how his unique status makes his resurrection all that more difficult. She has a feeling he might just preen and she would rather he concentrate on the road. "The real question becomes why were you allowed to get from there to here. To me." She pauses for a moment and then furrows her brows. "How did you find me by the way?"

Klaus opens his mouth and then he closes it. There is silence as he appears to consider his answer. "I just...did."

"Helpful," she quips but she doesn't doubt him. There is something much bigger at play here. She has a feeling that they are only touching the edges of it and before it is all said and done, they will have to wade in deep. She feels something claw in her stomach. She has long thought she left that kind of magic behind. She had spent far too much of her childhood, her teen years, wrestling things so big they swallowed her whole. The life she has carved out for her now is meant to be something small, something manageable. She hasn't had to give up her magic and she is still helping people but she is not putting herself through the wringer to do so.

The days of self sacrifice are long over.

She looks out the window, noting how the city has given way to outskirts. Christmas lights blaze in the windows and she thinks she can even make out a few families crowded around their trees despite the late hour. For the first time, she finds herself missing her family (the one she found throughout her life thus far). She wonders what it would be like to sit next to Caroline, sipping a hot cocoa as the twins argued over whether or not the packages on the tree were the newest iPhones. She knows she could have been there (her invitation is open and longstanding) and now she wishes she was.

"How come you haven't gone to see your family?" she asks, the very act of missing hers making her realize a glaring error in his ways. He is all about family --- that infamous always and forever. Add to that, he has a daughter. A very strong willed powerful daughter.

Klaus' mouth is pressed thin and she can see the way he tenses even in the dim light. She thinks he is going to ignore her but then he is speaking, voice low. "I am a danger to them."

She furrows her brows. It is not like Klaus to be introspective. He has always been a danger to them --- his temper, his jealously, his paranoia...all traits that have led to destructive moments when it came to his siblings. She doubts that he sees it that way. So, he must be speaking literally. She thinks for a moment, her head turning so she is looking out the window. "When I heard you had died, I almost didn't believe it --- especially when the rumor came around that you staked yourself. For someone who values immortality, it seemed out of place. But..."

"I had to," Klaus tells her. "I had no other choice." The words tumble out of him like running water, quick and close together. "There is something in me that wants my daughter --- and I won't go near her until I can be sure I am rid of it." Bonnie is confused. She is about to say more when Klaus jerks the wheel down a narrow road. "You said one of clients lives down here? Let's go wish her a Merry Christmas, shall we?"

End of discussion.

For now.

[c-t-r-l14]

Another small rant about Alex (Yes I know I talk about him a lot, no, I won’t stop)

A small part of me, a very small and petty part, really wants listener to move on from Alex’s gaslighting, excuse-making, crybaby ass.

Go back to therapy to see what went wrong, and learn from their mistakes.

Get they money up and not they funny up, and find a new man who will love them and actually TRY to make their relationship work despite their shortcomings. Men who are into communication. Men like Kayson or Jonah—two guys who love their partners, and won’t give up on them if it’s the last thing they’ll ever do.

And I want Alex to see them, with their successful life, and with their new partner.

And I want him to REGRET.

I want him to regret making excuses. I want him to regret the gaslighting. I want him to regret the way he broke up with them; and I want him to miss them, and what they had. I want him to grovel for them, and I want listener to deny his apology and tell him to take a hike. That they’re doing much better without him and his excuses, and walk away from him—leaving him alone to drown in his regret.

BUT.

A much bigger part of me, really wants listener and him to get back together. I want them both to try to work things out, too. I want both of them to recognize their own faults, talk about it like adults. A conversation without gaslighting, or making excuses. Before the argument, they had such good chemistry together, and it’s crazy that it went all up in smoke because of one stupid ass spat. I want them to both acknowledge that they are BOTH at fault for the way things turned out—not one party blaming the other under the guise of “kindness”, and “doing this for the greater good”.

Because the way Alex broke things off with them was not for the greater good, man. When it comes to the greater good, you don’t make excuses. You don’t gaslight. And you most definitely don’t put all the blame on one party.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if listener ended up with even more trauma because of this break up. Imagine you lose your cool, and act irrationally—and it’s the ONE TIME this ever happens—and you lose the person you care about? And then they make up excuses to leave you, all the while fully acknowledging that what you did isn’t who you are? And they BLAME you?? And gaslight you?? Omg, ya’ll—I would NOT know what to do in that scenario, bro.

I know I call out Alex a lot, and point out all the holes in his argument, but I feel like if I was ACTUALLY in the position listener was in, I’d believe every word he said. All of it, because it’s so easy to believe what people say when it comes from the mouth of the one you love. I can point out the flaws in his reasoning because I’m listening from an outside perspective. I can call him out because listener and and I are separate (I usually think of them as their own person). I really hope that listener has a good support group—one that tells them that the break up was not entirely their fault. I want them to call out Alex on his B.S., and reassure listener that the way he ended things was not right.

As for Alex, he could go on and frolick in the smog filled streets of New York City, if that’s what he wants. I live there, and there’s nothing special about it anyway—unless if rats the size of possums, smelly, disgusting subway stations and overpriced train fares is something that he finds appealing.

I’m glad that more people are realizing that Alex was wrong for this, though. I look at the comments of the break up audio and see so many people criticizing him, and even on Jonah’s newest video I see people comparing him to Jonah, and how Jonah and Kayson was “everything Alex should’ve been”. I love it so much.

It’s so refereshing to see more people on listener’s side.

[marigoldbaker]

be interesting

going thru my docs rn and found this little piece i wrote about the lady who defined thea's life prior to jaheira. for sure some Implications re: grooming and unhealthy power dynamics.

It had started when Thea was seventeen, she’d been training to be a luckmaiden, and in swept Jasmine, four-hundred-and-something, blonde and beautiful in that waifish elven way, to make a donation to the church. She’d had a sort of glow about her that had set all the girls whispering, but Thea was the one she’d stopped by, smiled at, flirted with, like she saw something worthy in Thea, something that mattered. She’d taken Thea to bed and taught her everything important, which was one of those things that stayed under lock and key, years later, because the way it would sound if anyone heard about it would start too many conversations that Thea didn’t want to have. She’d left not soon after. Come back quite a while after that. Left again, came back again, until a century had gone by and she’d become the only permanent fixture in Thea’s always-moving life.

The way it went was like this: Jasmine came into town, she caught Thea’s face in her hands, she kissed her like she’d never left, and she’d say, in that sweet, breathy, fairy-princess voice, “Darling, I’ve never stopped thinking about you since we left each other,” like it was a leaving they’d both chosen instead of just Jasmine vanishing when it got too hard or too real. She’d straddle Thea’s lap, never mind how much bigger she was; she liked to say, “You’re so big and strong,” and then laugh to herself in a way that suggested she thought Thea wouldn’t notice, or wouldn’t care, or would forgive her anything. Really only the third one was true. She’d say, “Make yourself interesting enough for me to stay, and you’ll keep me this time.”

The important bit was that she’d loved Jasmine. The most important bit was she’d learned how to love through loving Jasmine. She hadn’t given half a shit about people before Jasmine, and trying to understand Jasmine meant she had to pay attention to the people around her, see how they worked, trying to make that fit with that beautiful, beautiful woman who wanted Thea to fight off the monsters for her. And there was something noble, Jasmine said, something humble in allowing yourself to bow your head even when they both knew you were good enough to conquer cities in your own right, and to hear at seventeen from a golden-haired woman that she thought you could conquer a city—well. Small wonder, wasn’t it, that Thea fell in love?

The thing about Thea was that she was too fucking stubborn for her own good, and smarter than Jasmine by no small margin. Didn’t take her long to figure out Jasmine was that special kind of cruel; she liked how it felt to crush loving things under her heel and watch them crawl back for more. But the thing Thea figured—then, and also now—was that Jasmine didn’t have anyone else who she came back to, and that meant something, even if Jasmine herself didn’t know it just yet. And Thea, she could bear the indignity, if it meant that someday at the end of it Jasmine would have a safe place to land. The woman burned bridges like a professional fucking arsonist. She wouldn’t have anyone who wasn’t Thea at the end of it all.

Jasmine knew all of this, of course. Thought it was funny. Said she was simple, and easy to read, and it was endlessly fucking hilarious that Thea thought she’d be the one Jasmine would want at the end of the day. The first time she left, Thea had been eighteen; she’d cried herself sick, and then she’d picked up her sword and helped as many people that day as she could. She hadn’t missed Jasmine exactly, not the way Jasmine always seemed to think that she did—she didn’t know what was wrong with her heart, that she wouldn’t miss Jasmine like she knew she ought to if she really was that stupid little loving soldier. She’d cried because she was humiliated with herself for thinking Jasmine would stay, and change.

She came back again, always with that honeyed whisper: make yourself interesting enough for me to stay. And Thea would be what she was, always had been what she was, and eventually Jasmine would tire of the sameness of her and move on to something more interesting. Not a lot of excitement in constant love. Perhaps some degree of novelty, though, if Jasmine couldn’t find it anywhere else.

Thea didn’t try to find it at all. She liked the rhythm of Jasmine. Months, sometimes years, tangled with a woman who had known her when she was young, and in between, she would learn what she could from the women she met on the road, and bring it back to Jasmine when her lady came breezing back into town again. Jasmine liked the stories. She liked hearing Thea say that none of these women held a candle to her. The more, the better. 

Thea wondered why she didn’t feel bad for these women she loved and left. Perhaps it was something in their eyes that turned her stomach. The naked hope, the excitement, the youthful certainty that she would stay, when true love never did. Love, if love was Jasmine, was a strange and flighty thing that landed on your bed for a week in the summer before a younger woman wandered by and caught her attention. And no one loved Thea like Jasmine—enough to come back, and keep coming back, and craft all those beautiful little knives to sink into her skin. She didn’t know what the shape of love would be if it wasn’t that.

[sapphic-circles]

Take My Hand (Don’t Let Go)—Chapter 3 (final)

Read on AO3

Glinda stared wistfully at Elphaba as she led her by hand deeper into the woods. She could just see the corner of her smile from behind, and Glinda felt her chest buzz with giddy excitement. Part of her was still afraid this was a dream, and she’d wake up alone back in her room, but no. She was really here, with Elphaba, and they wouldn’t be separated again.

“It’s not far now,” Elphaba said. “And it’s not much, but I’ll make you as comfortable as I can.”

Glinda laughed. “What, no memory foam mattress? Tell me you at least have a down-feather duvet.” She did worry that she wouldn’t be able to sleep out here, of course, and she’d desperately miss regular baths. But it wasn’t as if she’d been sleeping well at the palace, where she was frequently plagued by nightmares and often missed Elphaba’s presence so strongly that she’d lay awake until morning.

“Funny,” Elphaba chuckled. “No, but I do have a blanket, at least. And a little bit of shelter in case it rains.”

“Close enough,” Glinda said.

It wasn’t long before they emerged into a bigger clearing, at least fifty yards across and teeming with life. Glinda hadn’t been sure what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t expected something so…homey, she supposed was the word. The camp was lit by lanterns on makeshift posts and hanging from tree branches, and a small campfire swaddled the center of it in a warm glow. group of Animals sat around it, talking and laughing with one another—mostly nocturnal ones, Glinda noticed. The others were probably asleep in the tents and lean-tos scattered throughout the clearing.

As Glinda watched the scene with a sort of reverent awe, she realized very quickly that this was somehow much more impressive than the entirety of the Emerald City in its quiet act of rebellion, and she wished she’d been there to see it built.

“This has been home for the last few weeks,” Elphaba said. “We move around a lot. Don’t want anyone stumbling on us. But I think we’re really starting to gain some ground here.”

“It’s wonderful,” Glinda said, and she meant it.

A Raccoon by the fire lifted her head and spotted them, then waved and hurried toward them. “You’re back!” she said to Elphaba, and then she turned to Glinda. “You must be Glinda. Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! I had no idea you’d be coming. Are you staying long?”

Glinda felt her cheeks warm. How much had Elphaba said about her to these strangers? Enough that they felt comfortable greeting her, an unfamiliar human, like this. “I’m here for good,” she said with a smile aimed at Elphaba.

Elphaba chuckled. “Glinda, this is Cizi. She’s been a great help with everything.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Glinda said.

“You, too,” Cizi said. “Well, welcome aboard, Glinda. Always good to have more hands on deck. We’ll talk more later, but for now, let me get back to those rowdy boys over there and give you two some privacy.” She smiled and nodded at Elphaba, then scurried back to the fire, snapping some indistinct words about the others sleeping at an Owl and a Fox who had begun to share jokes a bit too loudly.

“They seem nice,” Glinda said. “Elphie, how did you do all this? Not that I didn’t have faith in you, of course; I always do.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Elphaba said. She pointed out a Badger sitting by a small lean-to, reading a newspaper by candlelight. “That’s Dr. Dillamond’s partner,” she said. “He knew who I was, and he wanted to know what really happened, so he found me. None of this would be possible without him.”

“It’s incredible,” Glinda said.

“It’s a start. There’s still so much to do.” Elphaba squeezed her hand and led her further into the camp. “Come on,” she said. “Our tent is over here.”

Our tent. They were going to be roommates again. They would stay up and talk if one of them couldn’t sleep, huddle together when it was cold. Elphaba would be the last thing Glinda would see before falling asleep and the first thing she’d wake up to. She’d never have to go another day without seeing those beautiful green eyes.

Glinda had tears gathering in her own eyes by the time Elphaba lifted the canvas to let her in, and Elphaba paused when she caught sight of them.

“Glinda,” she said, “what’s wrong? Is it the tent? I can try to find you one of your own if this isn’t—I mean—I shouldn’t have assumed we would—”

“No,” Glinda said. She laughed and wiped her tears. “No, I’m just really happy, Elphie. You have no idea.”

“Oh.” A relieved smile spread across Elphaba’s face. “I think I do have an idea, actually,” she said, and she wiped another tear from Glinda’s face before pressing a tender kiss to the damp spot it left on her cheekbone. “I never dreamed that you’d really want this. I wasn’t sure I would ever even get to see you again, and now…”

Glinda smiled. “Now…?”

“Come here,” Elphaba said. She sat down on the bedroll in the tent and patted the spot beside her. Glinda obliged and immediately took the opportunity to rest her head on Elphaba’s shoulder.

“Back at the palace,” Elphaba said, “when I made the decision to defy the Wizard…it was the only choice I had, really. And it wasn’t even a difficult one, because I only had one thing to lose.” She ran a hand down Glinda’s hair, absentmindedly teasing the leaves out of it with her nails, as Glinda listened with bated breath. “I took you for granted, my sweet. In my mind, I lived in a world where you would always be by my side. I realized how ridiculous that was later, but I missed you so badly it felt like a hole had torn through my heart. And now you’re here.” Her voice cracked as she added, “I thought I was going to have to say goodbye again.”

Glinda lifted her head to face Elphaba, and her chest ached as she cupped her dear friend’s cheek in her hand. “Never,” she said. “Never again, Elphie. Not until we die, I swear.”

Elphaba stared at her for a second, her green eyes tinged with gold in the lantern light and holding some deep, torrid emotion Glinda couldn’t find the words for, but recognized in herself. She and Elphaba were the same, she knew—so different, but still the same, like the sides of a coin. And that was how she knew instinctively, just a moment before it happened, that Elphaba was going to kiss her.

Glinda’s heart stumbled in her chest as their lips met, and she had to steady herself with a hand on the ground before the shock of it could unbalance her.

Elphaba’s kiss was soft and tender, and Glinda marveled at the way her mouth fit perfectly against the grooves of her own lips. She’d kissed people before, but never like this. Never so steeped in emotion, in the purest love Glinda had ever felt. This was something entirely different.

Glinda gasped when they parted, eyes still closed and savoring the feeling as Elphaba ran the back of her hand down her cheek.

“I love you,” Elphaba whispered. “More than anything. You know that, right?”

Glinda nodded. “I feel the same,” she breathed.

She hadn’t even realized until this moment, but it was true. Of course it was. Elphaba was the first person to really see her, to know her deeper than her meticulously crafted exterior, and she’d been the first person to see Elphie as well. They were so entwined that Glinda knew that if she hadn’t been given this chance to return to her love, she would never have felt whole again, no matter how much time passed. She could be sixty years old with everything she’d ever once wanted, and she’d still be longing for her Elphaba.

Glinda pressed forward and kissed her again, throwing her arms around Elphaba’s neck and pulling her as close as physically possible. A soft whimper escaped Elphaba’s throat, and Glinda laughed into the kiss before drawing back to take in the image of her beloved. Her cheeks flushed a darker green, nearly blending with her freckles, and her smile lit her face like a beacon of warmth.

“Elphie, you’re blushing,” Glinda teased. She brushed her thumb over Elphaba’s cheek. “What a pretty shade of green.”

Elphaba chuckled fondly and shook her head. “What in Oz did I do to deserve you?”

“Deserve me?” Glinda tilted her head. If anything, she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve Elphaba. Not after she’d been so cruel to begin with. It was Elphaba who had made the first move to break through their rivalry, the first kind gesture that led to the path they were on now. “You’re just…you,” Glinda said. “That’s all. I was so jealous of you when we met, you know. You were so…”

“Out of control,” Elphaba said. “The magic. I remember.”

“No,” Glinda said. “I mean, yes, I was jealous of that. But you were so yourself, and so brave. You could stand up to anyone, even when you were uncomfortable. I couldn’t ever do that. I can’t even do it now,” she admitted. “It’s amazifying. I’m in awe of you every day, Elphie. Don’t ever think you have to do anything to deserve anyone, okay? Other people don’t deserve *you.”*

The color in Elphaba’s cheeks deepened even further, and she stared at Glinda with wonder. “I can’t believe you really feel that way about me,” she said. “You’ve become very eloquent in the last few months, haven’t you?”

Now it was Glinda’s turn to blush. “I’ve thought a lot about all of the things I wanted to say to you,” she said. “Things I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to say.”

Elphaba smiled and hummed. “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Glinda leaned closer and laid a hand on Elphaba’s waist. She could feel the shape of her ribs, the soft fold of her side, and the swell of each breath under the cloak. “Elphaba Thropp,” Glinda said, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life.”

Elphaba’s breath caught. “Funny,” she breathed. “Coming from the most beautiful person *I’ve* ever seen.” She closed the gap between them and gave Glinda a quick kiss before kissing her cheek next. “There’s a lot I’ve wanted to say to you, too,” she whispered.

“Like what?” Glinda whispered back.

“Like…you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Elphaba said. “And that would still be true even if the Wizard had been who I thought he was.”

“Elphie…”

“It’s true.”

“Well,” Glinda said. “I guess we’re both pretty lucky, then.”

Elphaba chuckled. “Just stop teasing and lie down with me, won’t you? I know you’re thinking about it.”

Glinda gasped in mock surprise. “Me? Lie down with a woman on our first date? I would never do something so scandalocious.”

“Oh…” Elphaba sighed. “I suppose you could sleep without me, then…”

“Oh, don’t you dare threaten me,” Glinda laughed.

She kissed Elphaba and pushed her down onto the bedroll, tangling their legs and fingers together until she couldn’t tell where she ended and Elphaba began. Her love’s breathy laughter filled her heart with contentment as she kissed Elphaba’s forehead, her nose, her perfect green-apple cheeks. She twirled her fingers through loose braids, ran her hands beneath Elphaba’s blouse, kissed her and touched her and held her in all the ways they’d always secretly wanted.

And when they finished, Glinda lay wrapped in Elphaba’s warm embrace, a hand rubbing lazy circles on her back and her head nestled perfectly into the crook of her Elphie’s neck, breathing in sync and finally falling into the first truly restful, comfortable sleep she’d had since their train ride to the city. Even while the months of separation tried to convince Glinda this was temporary, she knew better. This was their new normal, and it would never have to end.

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: PTAcule free space. Collective date night? Unusual combinations of battle couples? Formal vote to refuse Icicle’s application even though he promises he won’t be evil and/or creepy this time? (Everybody Lives AU encouraged)

"Remember," Crusher said, the joking tone suddenly gone from his voice, "You promised, no judging."

"None," Barb said, just as seriously, adjusting the gloves on her hands awkwardly. They still felt too tight. Paula's fingers were longer than her own, but the gloves had been a gift, weeks ago. Like the crossbow, Barb had left them in the box. She'd never thought she'd need them.  

That was how all of the Crock's gifts were. She was glad to have them now. 

"Leave them alone," Paula said. "You won't get used to them if you don't let them be. We have bigger things to worry about right now."

"I know." Barb took a breath. "I...you're sure this is the right place?"

The tall, plate-glass windowed office building towered above them, twinkling with ambient light from the streetlamps, taillights, and other city pollution. Funny, all those years of living in southern California suburbs, and under a dozen months in small-town Nebraska had broken the part of her mind that accepted Skyscrapers as normal. In Blue Valley, only the hospital and the clocktower  stood higher than four stories. Twenty was unthinkable.  

"You were expecting a warehouse?" Crusher asked. "Maybe dilapidated, a couple rusting shipping crates outside?"

"Something like that," Barb said, still stunned. "This is where...?"

"This is where the last signal from baby Midnight's goggles came from. Either they're here, or someone in here knows where they are. Ready for your first heist?" Paula  put a hand, haltingly comforting, on her shoulder. "Let's go get our Pat and the kids," Crusher whooped, shrill, and slammed his bat hard through a window. It shattered. Suddenly all Barb could see was the glass on the pitstop floor, what was left of Stripe...

"Barb, we need to move," Paula said, tugging her along. "Stay close. We'll take care of everything."

Security must have been anticipating something. a line of them were waiting in the hall. Crusher reached for an explosive, sending it sliding down the polished linoleum with a perfect kick.   The blast was contained, but Barb still felt the heat of it on her face. She expected a surge of guilt, watching people die. 

They'd taken her kids. They'd left Mike's bike mangled on the side of the road. She felt, exactly as promised, no judgement towards Crusher, and no pity. 

Paula put the tip of her crossbow bolt below the eye of a survivor.

"Where did your boss put Stripesy and the children?" she asked conversationally.  

"I--"

"Think carefully. If you tell us, maybe I'll let Stripesy decide if you live. He's the kind that might show mercy.  We aren't. "

"He's on the 15th floor.  the kids are in the basement. I don't have access--"

"Who does?" Barb asked, shouldering past Crusher, who let her. He was already using the end of his bat to poke and corpses for security passes.

"Soray."

"Oh, you're going to be Sorry," Paula said, pressing the sharp point close enough it drew blood.

"Wait, no, please, Franklin Soray, he--right there." he gave a feeble twitch. Crusher retrieved the badge. Paula looked at Barb. 

"Your call," she said, quiet.

"Leave him," Barb said. She told herself it wasn't about mercy. It was about priorities. 

They split up. Paula squeezed both they hands, and then vanished up the elevator shaft Crusher pried open for them.  Barb held the crossbow she'd been given tightly. She'd never ventured into the tunnels below Blue Valley, but somehow, she imagined they'd be a lot like the twisting maze of concrete Crusher slammed through like a jaguar through forest undergrowth. 

"After, we're going to work on Cardio," he said with a grin unmarred by the splatter of blood on his face when he'd broken at least a guard's nose. Barb hadn't looked at the man long enough to judge if the angle of his neck was natural or not, and again told her heart not to care.  

"Sure," she panted. "Absolutely. Where...?"

Another door, this one labeled a stomach clenching "Special Collections/ New Acquisitions" opened under the badge Crusher held. Another corridor of doors stretched out.

Crusher pointed to a scuff on the frame of one door. "Artie left that. C'mon."

Alarms started to blare, but Crusher wasted no time. "Hey ducklings! Gonna have these open real quick. everyone away from the doors, kay?"

"Dad!" Artemis yelped from behind her door. A muffled "Mr Crock?" sounded like Beth from the one behind it. 

"Yup," he turned to Barb, offering her the detonator to the explosives she hadn't even seen him rig. "Wanna do the honors?" She very much did. 

17 stories up, Paula slunk through the halls, careful of the after-hours lighting. It provided such nice shadows. Two more near silent interrogations led her to a very locked office door, one with the blinds hastily installed on the outsides of the windows. Amateur move, really. Anyone with half a brain would know something was different here, and anyone who knew to be looking for a hostage would find them easily enough. 

She opened the door.

"I need more time," Pat's voice croaked from where he was hunched over a desk. Her eyes caught, in the single bulb of lamplight, the sight of bruises, of a chain around his ankle. "It's not done, please--."

"Halftime," she said easily, dropping to the floor and trading lockpicks for her crossbow. "Easy, Patrick."

"Paula?" he said, like it was a question.

"Mm," she agreed. "Barb and Crusher are getting the children. They should be getting them--" The building swayed slightly. Distantly, an alarm sounded. "Now." she looked at the papers he'd been working on Blueprints for something. "We taking these or trashing them?"

"Trashing," Pat said hoarsely. Paula handed him a harness pulled from her backpack, and set to work filling the metal trash can that stood in the office with papers and a lit match.

"We're taking the long way down. Hope you're better with heights these days." 

The window took a few blows to break, but crashed to the ground far below. Paula lifted her crossbow from the floor, setting a bolt with a long cable attached and firing. the other end secured, she smiled. Smoke was filling the hall, which would prevent any other security from reaching them in anything resembling enough time for recapture.

"Shall we?" she clipped into the zipline. Pat followed. Far below, the light of the Cosmic staff lit the figures of the rest of the family, booking it for the minivan obtained for the rescue.

[xcestlavie]

" I'm all talk with a thorn in my side I got a real big heart that I'm willing to hide "

full name . alexander oliver morgan nickname(s) . alex , ander ( exclusive to his mother ) , oli ( brothers ) age/birthday . 28 06/23 ( cancer ) gender/pronouns . cis man he/him place of birth . bristol , united kingdom current residence . frog hollow , cape may sexuality . pansexual / romantic occupation . actor aesthetics . half-finished mug of coffee , the smell of rain in the air , and unanswered texts .

physical .

height . 6'0" build . lean hair color / style . brunette ( with a tendency to dye it blonde ), goes for the unkept stylized mess look . eye color . blue face claim . tom blyth

mentality .

positive traits . creative , loyal , charming , protective . negative traits . distant , flirty , jealous , smart ass . most of his personality is an act , a homebody by nature he keeps his circle small and tries to keep his head low . expressing himself isn't something he does well and he lashes out if his feelings are hurt or his trust deemed broken . he can be quick with a joke and can sometimes flirt himself into awkward situations most of which he doesn't know how to get himself out of . willing to take little jabs at noa if for nothing else just to see them get frustrated he thrives on the chaos and bickering between them ( won't admit to being jealous of anything they have going on , has their back no matter what , lowkey feels miserable that he's pretty much riding they’re coattails , actually secretly adores them ( but i didn't type that ) ) .

biography . ( tw . cancer mention / parental death )

born in bristol to an already large family alexander oliver morgan is the youngest of five boys, the closest sibling age-wise to him being five years older and the oldest being ten years older than alex. he was a mommy's boy, if she was out and about the small boy was bound to poke his head from behind her. he always made it a mission to make others smile with whatever he did whether it was mispronouncing a word on purpose or repeating jokes he'd heard on tv or at school. there was a passing comment that he was cute enough or funny enough to be on tv and it's all something the young child let go to his head. when he was seven his father was diagnosed with an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer and he lost his fight with it a year after that. despite not being exceptionally close to his father it was still his father and the young morgan boy found escapism in movies, the movies he watched during that point are what had him hellbent on carving a path for himself in the industry. he begged his mom for acting classes and took every opportunity he could to perform on a stage. from eleven to eighteen he tried at least making a local name for himself before he started throwing his net out in different ways. it took it a moment but he got a bite, but when he was twenty he found himself flying to america for the first time for a screen test. life turned into a whirlwind and somewhat nauseating situation of pressure, he didn't know what to expect from the show but it wasn't quite that, and cameras on him at all times was not something he was used to nor did he like as much as he thought he would. there came the time when the show ended and it was a bittersweet thing. alex carried a lot from that show his first acting credit, a fake relationship, and a better way to grasp at fame no matter how small or big. he's matured since he was younger, he tries to keep a certain air about him that he was more than another face in the actor/thespian populace. he had done things while working on the show but free of it he was able to move and pursue bigger projects, the most recent one being filmed in france. at the end of every shoot in he had he'd find himself in an apartment in new york city, it had always been a dream to live in the big city but with it came a lot of eyes lighting up with recognition he found cape may in a passing conversation with his agent when talking about places to live, he almost instantly fell in love with the beach from the pictures he saw of it and also the idea of something slower than california and new york city was somewhat appealing to him. he's been living in his house for around eight months now, being in and out sometimes he still somewhat lives out of the boxes he hasn't unpacked yet.

headcanons .

- loved playing football as a child. wanted to do rugby but it was shot down by his mother. -likes music and spends time - he's not willing to share just how much time - making a playlist for each character he auditions for or portrays. -still a huge mama's boy. -besides english, he knows enough french to get by, and enough japanese to introduce himself. -lowkey romantic. he romanticizes the idea of romance more than anything. -lowlowkey nerd. good book-to-movie adaption and superheroes make his little heart happy. - in interviews he says he doesn't have any form of social media but it's a lie, he has a secret accounts on all the social media platforms that matter (save for facebook. he really doesn't have one.) under the username bristolssoliolioxenfree. the accounts are private and he just uses them to lurk. imagine his surprise/panic when people that actually do the contact sync up and have his number were sending him requests to follow. -the show he got his start on was very friend's coded. -totally chose frog hollow to buy a house because it reminded him of the play a year with frog and toad.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Hello there, older and wiser Andi.

So, I was going through fics this weekend and realized one of my favorite au dynamics is Abby (and Jake) being a parental support to Lexa, accepting from the moment Clarke brought her into their lives that they’d already gained another daughter. Even if they’re not together anymore.

The thing is, I haven’t read many of those, your MBFW au being one of them.

Does any of your other Abbys feels this way toward Lexa? How’s the relationship between CoA Lexa and Abby? What about midwestern ‘fengers’lady and Clarke’s mom? do I even wanna ask about AWTR Abby and Lexa’s relationship? 🫣

Do they have to sit down Lexa when gets insecure about her place in their family and go “kid, you’re my daughter too, nothing is gonna change that”?

Can’t imagine a mom meeting this very polite sometimes shy lil’lesbean and not wanting to adopt her.

Well I get why it's not the norm really, considering canon. And normally I swing that way too because Abby was distrustful of Lexa and condescending semi-often. But for MBFW Lexa was such not a threat. She was shy and seemed well put together, if not obviously decked out in her adorable but snappy secondhand clothes. She was soft spoken but opinionated and seemed excited to be there (whereas Clarke was fresh off a gap year and somewhat resistant to the idea of college entirely.) And honestly the way Lexa spoke so animatedly about Clarke when she wasn't there - that little spark she got in her eyes - it was like, yeah. Ok. She's a good egg. She seems good for Clarke. And she's so damn sweet and deceptively funny. And then when Clarke gives her the details of Lexa's childhood? Well. It's not hard to just kinda wanna scoop the girl up and make her a Griffin from then on.

CoA Abby does warm up to Lexa, but it takes awhile. She's kinder after their talk, but still a bit standoffish. Though that's generally just her disposition, so there's not much either Clarke or Lexa can do about that. Or want to. CoA Abby is more of the type to want to control things, so naturally Clarke puts up a lot of boundaries around herself and her life that Abby can't intrude on, and Lexa is part of those boundaries unfortunately.

AWTR Abby is kind and friendly, but she herself puts up boundaries. She's known Lexa for Lexa's entire life so there's this deeply embedded sense of doctor/patient feelings there despite the fact that she's also eventually Clarke's wife. Add on the fact that she knows Lexa is going to die, and she knows how tenderhearted her daughter is despite her cool and aloof exterior? It just all reads as disaster in her eyes. She knows this is going to fuck Clarke up for the rest of her life and honestly? She's not wrong 😔 So she keeps an emotional distance there.

Midwestern Abby is... an enigma. She's nice enough, but not particularly friendly. She seems genuinely pleased that Clarke is happy with Lexa, but disappointed that they chose to live in such a small town rather than moving to a bigger city where Clarke's career can flourish. She's happy that they have children, but laments that she's not a biological grandmother, but still treats her grandchild with love and affection, and still sends birthday gifts and Christmas gifts and visits a couple times a year mostly just to see them more than anything. See what I mean? She's just kind of all over the map, yet somehow still a pretty decent sized presence in their lives. And treats Lexa more like a friend that she's very fond of rather than like daughter, if that makes sense. Like she likes Lexa and enjoys her company, but it's not overly familiar.

[siriannatan]

Heroes of Empires City Chapter 6

I might have no Jinn & Other Troubles for this week but I do have a Heroes chapter :}

and maybe something for that Modern Fantasy Thing I have...

AO3

fWhip only took three days of a break after growing wings horns.

The training has already technically started before their first meeting for actual physical practice. They met up to see how similar or different their wings worked. Lucky for them they worked in similar ways, and Scott taught him some exercises he usually did so he could get a bit more familiar with how they moved. Katherine had booked entirely for them. No interns. No other heroes. And complete privacy so they didn't have to have masks and fWhip's coat getting in the way. She was a bit shocked they just exchanged their identities but in the end, it was their choice so she gave them a whole section with the trampoline room and a few other exercise rooms and a changing room all to themselves. Thank you agency for designing the practice area so it could be divided if needed. And security cameras were disabled. Heroes could take care of themselves in case of problems.

Scott was very excited to teach someone a skill he figured out all on his own - watching bird documentaries and flailing off a small cliff with his brother laughing at him. Katherine did give him some more 'at base time' to manage his standard duties and reports with training fWhip on top of that. And following Jimmy around... Damn Jimmy, distracting him all the time. Maybe training fWhip would distract him. By giving him another pretty man to think about...

Speaking of. fWhip was already in the training room. Looking something up on his phone. In a just plain dark grey shirt mangled to fit his wings and a bit too loose to be picked like sweatpants. The Agency usually left private exercise gear up to heroes to choose on their own so they could be as comfy in it as they wanted and focused on their actual combat gear Stuff that kept them safe when shot at and stuff. They would probably make at least a couple of exercise shirts for fWhip at some point but his new costume took priority. "Hi," Scott greeted him, dropping his bag by the door. There was pretty much just water, some light snacks and a towel in there.

"Oh, hi... I was looking up how to stretch and stuff since don't exercise much..." he admitted with a cute, sheepish chuckle. "I'm pretty sure these pants are actually Jimmy's... Must have grabbed them when I was moving out..." he sighed standing up. He was not the tallest of the heroes - that'd be Stratos or Scott, but his wings were huge. Their span was easily bigger than Scott's. How did he manage to stay upright with these on his back? "Jimmy liked to exercise when he wasn't too busy... I should probably not talk about him."

"It's fine, we're just friends," Scott shook his head and smiled. "And stretches might be a good idea, but not just some general ones..." and they set off to get ready.

fWhip was glad to have Scott to teach him how to use his wings. And that they had a room full of bouncy things, bouncing beats getting overly wet any day of the week. But imagining a tiny Scott falling into a lake was funny... And if they had to do this over the water there would be swimsuits involved. fWhip did not need that kind of distraction. Just Scott in a t-shirt and shorts - barely above-knee shorts but still - was a bit much...

And he might have been terrible at flying. Scott made it look so simple and graceful. And fWhip felt like a chicken trying to fly up to a trashcan. Forgetting it can not fly but trying nonetheless.

"Don't worry, it took me three months to learn how to fly reliably, but I had no teacher," Scott smiled down at him from the top of a jumping pad. For safe landing practice and stuff. Outside his costume and hero persona Scott was... an adorable little jerk and a flirt. He complimented fWhip excessively whenever he managed to stay in the air for even a second. And... giggled adorably whenever fWhip landed on the soft bouncy ground. But there was this complicated thing with Jimmy connecting the three of them and fWhip didn't want to mess it up any more than it already was... But damn was Scott pretty. Even prettier than major... And it made focusing on his wings hard.

"You okay down there?" Scott asked from the top of the platform fWhip spent the last hour jumping off of. "You've been staring at me a lot today," he grinned and fWhip could feel himself blush.

"I'm trying to figure out how your damn wings work..." fWhip groaned. "And your face is very distracting," he sighed. Scott started the flirting so it was probably fine to flirt back a little bit. Just a little...

Scott gave him another giggle at that. "Flatterer, and even though I appreciate being called something other than Pigeon Boy, you better focus on your wings. We've already established we're a bit different, after all," even from this far fWhip could see Scott's soft smirk. And he was right. 

With a sigh, fWhip sat up and forced himself to not join Scott on the platform. And focused on his wings. Flapping them and shifting. Maybe he was indeed too focused on how Scott flies and not enough on how he himself should go about it? Maybe he was flapping too much? Or something else dumb like that? His wings were bigger than Scott's and that came with more power in a single flap than...

"One more try before lunch," fWhip decided after a quick time check. After lunch, they had to go back to their usual. In fWhip's case that would probably be a new costume try on's and in Scott's paperwork or a patrol.

"Okay, if you manage to fly for even a second I'll eat with you," Scott offered as if fWhip needed any more encouragement.

"We'll need to either eat here or change to civilian clothes, my costume's not ready yet," fWhip grinned back.

With another sigh and a shift of his shoulders, fWhip flapped his wings once, focusing on power and no amount of flaps. And after a couple of tries like that messing his hair even more than it already was dared to bounce on the trampoline, adding a rather powerful flap of wings to it and... did not fall instantly so he did it again and again. And again until he landed on the platform next to shocked Scott. Or more like was pulled onto it by Scott.

"Told you I was here just to show you the basics," Scott grinned, patting fWhip's back.

"That felt so cool..." fWhip chuckled. Still not believing it was that easy to figure out once his head was out the bucket. And honestly, if Scott didn't remind him of their differences and he was working on it alone he would probably not have figured that out so fast. If at all. Too focused on how Scott made it work. "I understand why you like flying so much," he added, pulling Scott into a hug. Not a fully intentional one but Scott didn't push him away but instead returned it. "And I'm sorry I wasted so much of your time trying to figure that out..."

"You're not done yet. Next is landing, because what you just showed me was terrible. I was worried you'd fall there," Scott chuckled, stepping away from the hug to fWhip's dismay. 

It was a bit hard to get hugs since Jimmy... He was fine. And... "You're right..." fWhip admitted, just in time as Scott gracefully glided down. fWhip's descent was a bit less graceful and if not for Scott he'd land face-first on the trampoline. At least that would not break his nose...

"I'll see you in the lobby then?" Scott grinned as fWhip tried to recover from his landing.

"Sure..." fWhip nodded after already retreating man. Damn, he was pretty...

After changing and setting his status in their special app so Katherine knew fWhip made his way with secret elevators to the lobby where Scott was already waiting. Making the uniform of the clerks from the tower look cute and not plain and boring.

"Hi..." fWhip mumbled walking up and was met with one of Scott's cute giggles. "What?"

"You really look like a nerd with your glasses on," Scott smiled and fWhip realised he never really showed Scott his glasses, choosing quickly fixed googles since they were more comfortable and he still had an identity to protect after all and his glasses weren't made for that. "And we really should leave. I saw Jimmy talking to Katherine and that can't be good," he added and nearly pulled fWhip off to a nearby coffee shop. Cogsmeade. Rather popular among the clerks so they blended in easily. Well... except for Scott's overly sweet drink of choice. fWhip felt his stomach churn just looking at the mind-rotting concoction. At least the barista making it didn't seem to mind all that badly.

Their lunch was rather fast since they both had the stuff to do but pleasant anyway even if their list of topics was rather limited. Secret identities of third parties - Gem...

Scott did not expect to be called to Katherine's office the moment he was done with his lunch and back in costume. Or that fWhip would be there too. Or a blown-up, blurry picture of him with fWhip in his arms to be projected on the wall. Have those rumours still not blown over?

"The media is still pushing for an official statement no matter how many times we sat that was an emergency situation. They want that from the two of you," Katherine said, a lot more seriously than Scott thought necessary for the situation.

"Aren't our private matters private in all situations and contexts?" fWhip groaned. Scott guessed he must have felt terrible about it and combined with the Jimmy situation. They really should just talk. The three of them.

"Well, major following sheriff around doesn't help. He came over to complain about rude letters coming to the station, they don't have our filters," she sighed and Scott suddenly felt terrible about all the extra visits he made to the precinct to bother Jimmy.

"So what are we supposed to do about that? No one asks about it during patrols and TInkerer's grounded inside until his suit and flying training are done," Scott asked, suppressing a heavy sight. PR was the worst part of being a hero.

Katherine's plan involved shoving them into a talk show with a list or predetermined by the PR team questions. A popular talk show that often hosts heroes when PR problems need addressing. Once fWhip's new suit was ready and revealed to the public of course. At least they would be given some time to prepare. And the questions were already ready for them to look over and decide if there was some big nothing for them in them. And to form their answers for PR to approve.

"And, Shadow Master's top goons have been seen plotting something, be ready for anything," Katherine warned them before asking about the flying progress report. At least she was pleased that fWhip could fly even if a bit already.

Once done and free from the boring part of the job - PR hell as Scott called it - they exchanged looks. 

"Shadow Master must be having a conniption in the prison," fWhip chuckled, checking something on his communication device.

"Jimmy's going to kill me next time he sees me..." Scott sighed.

"If Amethyst doesn't get to you first... I really don't feel like going home tonight if she knows... TV show will make her not trust a word I say about the situation... And they say the costume's almost done," fWhip groaned.

"Well... you could come over so we can match our answers? My brother won't be home - band stuff's tonight and after he's visiting his boyfriend?" Scott offered, feeling rather bold and friendly today.

fWhip did not mind a co-worker sleepover so after agreeing he ran off to try on the new costume. And Scott was left with the reality that he was getting a handsome guy to visit him. and sleep over. And it was all for work purposes because the public decided they look cute together... Until recently they thought Tinkerer was a robot. Was a bit of hair on a blurry photo that big of a deal? Apparently yes.

Scott couldn't hold back his excitement as he took the elevator down to the lobby once he was done with hero work for the day. Even the piece of paper with interview questions couldn't get his spirits down. And he almost completely forgot it once he spotted fWhip. Thick-rimmed, round glasses back on his nose and a leather jacket that frankly made him look quite small. Honestly, fWhip was starting to look tiny to Scott whenever he didn't have his wings out. They were just so damn big and it was honestly cute. And the way he was holding his tablet in both hands and furrowing his eyebrows. Adorable.

"Don't tell me that's ex-boyfriend's jacket," Scott chuckled and maybe felt bad with how much he startled the other hero.

"No, I always bought them in bigger hoping Jimmy would borrow one..." fWhip sighed, showing the tablet into his bag. "My sister's all kinds of annoyed I have made a friend, and I know she's just worried because of the whole situation recently," he sighed, following Scott to the tower's parking area.

Scott understood that. "Yeah, my brother nearly choked me to death after the election day. I think he forgot being a hero is a high-risk profession," he nodded.  He never saw Xor that worried.

"Yeah. Part of why I broke up with Jimmy. It was never about him not liking heroes. I was just scared of what would happen if Shadow Master ever found out my civilian identity... And I never properly explained myself and seeing you talk to him I think that maybe we could make it work..." fWhip rambled on the way to Scott and Xor's apartment.

"You couldn't have known how he'd react, right? And he does keep calling me Pigeon-Boy all the time and I have to keep running after him, and saving him did not help, I think he might be tolerating be because of the job," Scott took over talking and told fWhip how he had to take care of Jimmy after the whole incident. "If he wasn't hurt he'd probably kick me out," he ended with a sad chuckle. 

Both Scott and fWhip agreed Jimmy was stupidly attractive and cute and his dislike of heroes was annoying but probably had a good reason. They agreed to not complain about it and give Jimmy his own space to figure that one out. And fWhip, even if he never told Jimmy about it, was pretty sure the sheriff knew Tinkerer was his ex-boyfriend. He was just too damn smart not to notice fWhip's frankly bad attempts at hiding all the scuffs and bruises that came from fighting villains. And at least complimenting Jimmy saved their evening from being all about work and frankly in spaces a bit too personal questions. And fWhip was right, shouldn't heroes' private information, like details of their relationships with each other be their own business and not discussed on TV?

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary405

11/1-2/24

friday - saturday

loved the first day of the con.

sin city anime is simply the best, probably. tiny enough to not feel too overstimulating, not so small it feels dull. a very good medium they've got though of course they want to get bigger... but that will come when we've left vegas probably.

they had a guy's brand there, hypercore, he draws you if you buy something... my gf bought some stuff from him, and he drew us both. so i will post both of ours together, i think this is the first time what she looks like will be put here in image, which is so funny to me.

very sweet man. i believe his name is hiroshi... he was very fast with this, i feel like maybe i learned something seeing it happen. i mean we look like the same, face shape and stuff, he just does the same thing every time basically but not necessarily . i like how my lips look, or, i like how he made that shape in his style. interesting to think about making others conform to the shapes you like. which is kind of what a lot of artists end up doing. or not 'a lot', because that makes it sound like i think there is a perfect artist who does not, but it is the fundamental thing, in any creative thing i think, it travels along your ways of seeing, and your ways of breaking up your ways of seeing, you know, making different sorts of efforts and things. i hope that makes sense. it's not like there is any perfect reference to the real one can make in drawing, it's not like... it's not just 'communication' or 'translation' either, it has its own place, it can do itself for itself, seeing and then being there, but it is transformative in some way right.

i dunno. i'm just talk talk talking. about silly caricatures drawn as a way to say thank you... but it's such a kind thank you i think. so i'm fond of them. i like that we are now a hypercore couple.

oh here is the reason i watched buffalo 66 the other day, this video someone made for this depressing instrumental i like. this is the best song on that album and maybe the best thing to come from this band idk i didn't keep up enough:

it feels like a sufficient statement from and on the sort of song that it is.

what a silly sentence that is.

anyhow, the con is very nice... i love the artist alley / dealer hall setup, very very cute zones. there's some weird horny stuff. i took video of it on the camcorder just because it seems interesting, when it's so flattened in the eye of the camera. idk. it turns into this thought in crystalline digital form, you can move it around and play with it. so that is fun for me.

i also cosplayed today!!!

you have

1,

2,

3...

seconds to guess who...

...okay?

isn't it obvious?

here:

and people were so nice!!!!!!

like, i dunno, 5 people recognized the cosplay or so??? they were all so nice to me about it though it felt so, i dunno... it feels crazy for people to be nice to you out of nowhere, and say, wow, that is so cute!! you're marina??? i love that game!!! and then you're like i love it too!! or, they take a picture of you after asking and then show you their rher sigil tattoo. i feel really happy about this. it's like, i was something to people, i wasn't even myself, i was this weird girl from a game, or like, an image of the fact that people really like her, and then like, people are happy to see something odd from something they at least really like, moving through the world. i wonder if it's like, how i feel when i used to buy stickers or charms from anime i liked to put on my keys, i had this osaka keychain i really liked, somehow having it with me, it calmed me down, there was something joy-making about those tiny otaku pleasures i guess, where you have this icon of a funny and strange thing with you, which makes the world less painful or something? i dunno. the person who had the rhere sigil tattoo was so nice, and so was this person who with their sister cosplayed marina and samarie which is such a funny thing to cosplay with your sister but i think it rocks. i wonder if i came off receptive to the people's kindness, i was so taken aback, it felt like, i felt starstruck by them being nice to me out of nowhere?? for no reason, being nothing at all to them, people liked me. and it means a lot when people i know like me, it's just, i wonder, maybe i take things for granted but also, they feel attached and connected, and as time goes on, that bond grows stronger. you have to nourish it and care for the other, but it's a part of life, and it's, well, with my girlfriend we love eachother so much, and that is a kind of work, i love it, because all i really know i can do in life, successfully, is love her and work on things with her, and beyond that, i flail at making things, slowly over time developing tiny objects in my sea of time. but that is you know, she knows me, and i am me to her. i feel so worthless you know, to her i am a precious found object, maybe something breton might find in a flea market, brought home and full of these associations to her personal past, places i have never been, images i never will be but am related to or descended from, maybe even images i have seen too, inflicted on us both. this is our encounter. but it's less than an encounter... it's like... by her kindness, i travel the world a little jewel, or i got to be that today, and i was this free floating pearl in her orbit, and people came to look at the little pearl, and it made the tiny thing happy, to be from found object to what might one day belong on jewelry or somesuch thing. i do not know. i just know for some reason, it means a lot to me that i got to be someone that doesn't exist. i dunno, so much. i don't know so much. i just feel happy, i also felt like myself, because i guess reflecting on her character, being what feels natural is a struggle and an odd thing which has a history that might make people uncomfortable by some imperfection, but it is what you have, and so you proceed from it, as what comes to you, as if dreaming or sleepwalking a path you move down. i dunno. people are just so nice sometimes? that's all it really is, it moves me a lot though. even when people say, i love your outfit, it doesn't mean as much as, you're that character from that game where the world is this really insane nightmare full of phallic hells, that means so much to me somehow, and then, from them to me, that means so much somehow too. little weird antennae sending out signals too weak to reach long distances, finally picking on another up.

my gf experienced that too a little, when this person they were like talking to her about jojo's and they were like, who is your fav, and she was like my fav is (x) (i forgot...i'm terrible but... i never watched or read that much but i know i must), and this person pulled out their ita bag of all their pins and charms of this character, and it was like, they were so happy together in their shared adoration of this character from this freakish manga/show where a guy drinks piss and absorbs it with a box jellyfish. it's weird how these things can matter so much. i don't want to say it's just fandom, it feels like, even if these are relatively popular things it's like, there's something odd about these ones! it's not like when someone cosplays something very popular, and people are like, awesome you're...i dunno, who is a popular character? idk. oh you're the sexy girl from genshin...whichever one that is idk, not to hate, or create some hierarchy it's not like i cosplay or want to very much, it's just, i dunno, it's weird how you can bond with people over these odd little things that speak to the sets of meanings we keep in us, somewhere, even if for some it's like, oh my god i love these penis freaks in this dungeon, and for me it's like, wow the suffering with all these party members is somehow creating a feeling like living in this world this is crazy it's like silent hill to me now, it's just baffling. it's silly the ways art will mean things to us it makes me sad it feels rare that with more serious art, it's hard to be on this level of like, some sort of instinct, where you express adoration in some way, as if i express adoration for gallo's strange films, to someone, we could both feel connected and friendly, even in relative silence. there's a lot of peacocking involved though, everyone wants to know more and be better. i just want to adore.... i really just want to adore things...

and some people are seeing the pics i posted and being very nice to me. why are people so nice. it hurts my insides, since i am probably not so nice. i am chronically offputting basically. or i dunno. i think i try, or idk if i try, mostly it doesn't seem like an issue, until it is. i can never receive things right maybe. it's all too personal and i'm wrapped up in my head. how do i take a compliment? oh well.

i suppose with things we want to say are more serious than anime or games, it's like, you want people to prove they get it... but... it's hard to 'get it' there are so many ways to do so...

other stuff we saw... i saw some bugs pinned in frames. that was so pretty to me.

i also did a little messing with the drawring, i moved the eye around, that seems good/ right, not much else since no time.

i need to sleep now, though, it's too late again!!

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[brooklyndadshow]

One step further for the white rabbit

I've gotten some reactions to the beginning of the white rabbit story from middle school so I thought I'd take one step further on at least writing the story. Not sure exactly where this will go - but let's go down the rabbit hole.

With my daughter going to middle school this fall it definitely has me thinking back on my own middle school experiences. Middle school was rough for me. I feel like I learned a bunch of life lessons that I've held on to, probably a few narratives that I should let go. It's funny how the mind works there are three mini stories from me starting middle school, two that stuck with me and one that I completely blocked out until my parents told me recently.

What I remember learning most is about popularity, cliques, and norms. I went to a small school and had been there for years so I had some middle school street cred. What I remember most is losing street cred for befriending kids that we're new and not in the in crowd. I remember saying the phase - "Why does Jamil think he can be friends with them and us? " I'm lucky - I have always have had the ability to fit in, but I hate that need for people who fit in to exclude others - with a passion. I've always believed in bringing people in - that in almost every situation, if people want to be part of the collective that is focused on common good and justice, we are stronger with every individual we can bring in - stronger in the sum of our parts. If I think back on my life, it's middle school where this part of myself developed and hardened in being a core part of who I am. Is it really this time, or more the collection of experiences - hard to say - and really does it matter - I know that's a core part of my personality.

The second story is the Alice in Wonderland musical. Frankly as awkward 10 and 11 year olds, the fact that we were in tights was a bigger deal than me being in white face. In fact, me being in white face was zero deal. It's just now looking back and telling other people and seeing their reactions, that I reflect on the dynamics of a white teacher putting a black child in white face - and I have pause.... I have this idea for a video sketch I might do for the show where I do this monologue or a promo for it while I paint my face white... I feel like it will make some people very uncomfortable and I like that... It's like an itch I want to scratch in my art - are you uncomfortable just reading about me slowly painting my face white? Instructed by an older white woman... why are you comfortable?

Also everyone should re-watch Bamboozled by Spike Lee.

I'm going to have paint my face a few times and remove the paint before I get to the bottom of the white rabbit rabbit hole...

Last story that I blocked out and had no memory of. The same teacher that put in me white face, also put me in the lower math class when I entered 5th grade. I was devasted. I had always been in the top level of math and all of a sudden I wasn't. My parents noticed that I was noticably upset. They inquired and discovered the reason. They went to the teacher to advocate for me and find out what was going on. Apparently there was no reason, I'd been put in the lower class and was moved back to be among my peers. I have zero recollection of any of this. I do remember always being in the highest math class, I do remember going on to Stuyvesant High School, the top math and science magnet school in New York City, I do remember scoring significantly scoring higher on my math SATs than my verbal SATs. I do remember going to Engineering school at Columbia and continuing to be in technology for the rest of my 25 year and going career...

So reflecting back on the white rabbit and his journey to this point.... What are my thoughts.... I remember singing "I'm late"... and having an awakening to my stage presence, my love of singing and performing - the memory itself is pure - later in life I begun to think of the minstrel show that black entertainers have to endure, wrote a show about it, still have more to say about it... Where does my original minstrel show performance fit into my journey? I think every person of color who entertains- especially with comedy - faces that moment. Are they laughing at me or with me? The disturbing truth is sometimes you never know. That's a creative minefield - am I the minstrel or the auteur... I guess I'm still figuring out. Guess it's time to go on Amazon and look for some white face paint.

[strangerstilinski]

You may have received this message 3x because I typed it out the first time and RIP computer crashed then the second I clicked send and by God Tumblr crashed and so if it crashes a 3rd time you will never see this message but maybe you have it in your inbox like a bazillion times.

Basically the first part is yea I get small towns but a lot of the urban legend and crimes weren't talked about openly because a lot of churches in small towns Indiana. Also because people were superstitious as fuck and like there's a lot of Masons near my small town Indiana so you didn't want to say anything that could somehow be related to them...

Anyways more lore and infodump about Indiana because I already said some things and now my brain is itching to tell more: which also the majority of these was read in a book when I was a preteen about weird and creepy things in Indiana (and again this is the 3rd time trying to send this message so things aren't in the same order)

There's The Fox Hollow Farm murders about another SK like Eyler. I have seen podcasts do an ep on this but briefly listened and never finished.

Claypool murders. It was a hotel and in 1940s a woman got murdered never found the killer. Another woman got murdered in the 1950s, but they did find their murderer. Place may or may not have been haunted but it is torn down today. I've heard this one on a podcast somewhere idk where...

The ghost Diana at the Dunes. Dont ask me the lore because my family had more interesting urban legend. Because its common for people to go missing or fall into the dunes, well my dad told me the rumor he heard was that the dunes moved creating air pockets- but WHY did they move? And some people who "fell" into these air pockets said it felt like something grabbed them...there's something living in the dunes that causes the sand to shift.

There's 100 steps cemetery i think in southwest Indiana. There are so many different legends the one I remember is you have to count each step, or you'll die in so many days. But also you'll see a premonition of your death?

Vincennes is just a haunted town, everyone i know who isnt local who has gone there has seen or heard something especially on some of those bridges.

There's catacombs under Indy that may or may not be haunted.

Bigfoot. So many stories and legends about Bigfoot in the state park. Speaking of state parks, one is called Shades state park. I went one time because I had a goal to hit as many different state parks in Indiana...never again because there were ladders you had to climb. But it was called Shades of Death in like the 70s or 80s because of people going missing.

There's some small town that had a Wolfman. He like defected from a war or something and then got adopted by a pack of wolves and lost his humanity and became like them. I only remember reading this one because the townsfolk turned on him and locked him in the cave by blowing up the exits and left him to die and I thought that was horrific because I'm terrified of caves.

Which there is the Indiana caverns. Thats its own thing snd there are rumors im sure

One of the bigger cities near me has a lot where a murder took place and the house was insanely haunted. Like every person who lived there after saw things and went insane or got killed there. They tore the house down and rebuilt on that lot and it continued to happen. Now its just an empty lot.

Mermaids. Don't ask me how or why a landlocked state has mermaids in the few ponds and lakes it has. I say mermaids loosely because yeah there's the river creature sea serpent loch ness monster type of creature in one of the lakes but there is also the mermaids as the town called it that were a mix between actual mythology of Selkies and Sirens.

Also there's supposedly a turtle cryptid somewhere in Indiana and I just think that's funny compared to the rest

this was wild from start to finish 🤯 thank you endlessly for fighting tumblr by sending this in a third time, because this was the only version of this message that i received and i am soooo grateful (i was not joking when i said i wanted to search for creepy podcasts hehehehe)

also u easily saved the best for last bc a turtle cryptid???