#i made this purely for myself so i can share my love of turtles

[wrensbrainrot]

I wanted a TMNT challenge thing that wasn't specifically an art challenge or focused on a specific version of TMNT, so I made one! Artists are free to use this as an art challenge if they want of course, that'd be awesome! But I wanted to make something that would encourage non-artists (like myself) to have some fun and share their love too!

[dakotafinely]

Mmm, We Should Talk About LFLS's Effect On Fandom

I know a lot of people may not want to hear this, but I think it needs to be addressed. To make myself clear: This is not about LFLS's quality or @eternalglitch writing ability. Their story became a fandom staple for a reason and I respect and understand that. This critism is mostly towards fandom then it is on anything else. This is not to tear down another person's story, this is purely to discuss what that story did to change Rise Fandom's view and how it treats content creators, writers and artists alike, drastically differently.

So, this post all starts with this tweet by glitch herself:

Which really just sparked my need to talk about this. And to put it bluntly, this tweet feels condescending, in the idea that anyone can just "write what they want" and become fandom famous from it. Which, is technically true, I mean, it worked for Glitch. If you ignore factors like Leo being the fan favorite (with Donnie as a close second) and Like Father Like Son being a popular idea amongst fandom even BEFORE glitch created the story. Meaning a lot of people gravitate to their fics (and fics like them) more. Not to mention Glitch, if you're seeing this, YOU are the one who made Leo AU's popular. Also, from what I understand people who are "complaining" about having content focused a lot on Leo aren't trying to ruin the fun or say people can't make content. They're pointing out an issue that is affecting content and fandom for the rest of the people in tmnt spaces who are left out and pushed to the side or over looked because of fandom and it's treatment of those outside of their shared ideas/characters. Like with Leo and Donnie being twins and how that is a "universally shared opinion" with everyone in fandom or that Raph and Mikey are both black coded characters.

Honestly it's the idea that just writing what you want to see worked for them so it should therefore work for everyone else as tho there aren't people who do write whatever they want and just get different results. I'm not saying Glitch didn't earn their popularity in fandom. As a fellow writer I know how much work they put in for each chapter and they ABSOLUTELY deserve recognition for that. Just there are more factors to being a popular writer then just "writing what you want" and getting popular from that. And there's nothing wrong with encouraging others to write but you can't just ignore the factors that made your particular work popular in the first place. It's setting people's exceptions of fandom incorrectly, and not to mention brushing other creators under the rug entirely.

And I don't just mean writers either. This effects artists as well, while I don't have a lot of recalls from many people. I have talked to someone who shared their own art, and has made LFLS art. Their fanart for glitches work STILL gets notes and reblogs to this day. While most of their art not related to that fanfic may only get rare hearts but no reblogs.

Glitch, your work, unintentionally, has poisoned the water for the rest of us content creators. And tho I understand that you had no intention of doing that, you cannot be unaware of those consequences when people go around "complaining" that there aren't as many fics for the other turtles, or other rottmnt characters period. And I want you to be aware I am not saying you are obligated to consume or create content you don't want to see. But you are a large content creator in this fandom, you must understand your experience with sharing content and it's reception is drastically different from the rest of us.

And people who consume LFLS, you guys need to do what you do for glitches work on other content creators works that you love. Reblogging, sharing, talking about them, engage with the writers, and (if you are compelled to) create fanart for them. Leo AU's are so frequent because a lot of people think that's what the fandom wants and while many of us may make content that aren't Leo centric. Many can become discouraged and abandon/not even share their fic ideas because they believe they'll just be pushed to the way side. You're not bad people for consuming a popular work, but if you want more diverse work you have to put the effort in letting content creators know that you're enjoying it. Nobody should be writing with the sole purpose of getting attention and popularity. But that doesn't mean people should feel like they're wasting their efforts sharing their works.

Point is, unintentionally, LFLS made a very large imbalance within the Rise Fandom for content creators. Which can only truly be remedied by people sharing and caring about works that aren't LFLS that they want to see by other authors/artists they enjoy.

If you want a place to start, or want an example of how to hype up content creators you like, I already made a Writers Appreciation Post that has a nice list of fics I personally recommend!

[disfordevineaux]

Hello ! So if you finished watching season 4, could you share your opinion on it ? Did it meet your expectations ? Was the ending satisfying ?

HELLO! Yes, yes I have. Pretty much the second it came out I was watching it. I have pretty much been in a gif making coma for the last 3 days since its release, and I think the fact it's over has now just hit me.

I really liked s4. It was rushed, yes, but that's understandable considering the context. S4 was clearly not the initial plan. Not many Netflix aminated TV shows reach S6 or past that, so I have a feeling they were going for 6 seasons but had to cut it short. It's better than it getting officially cancelled. Which is most likely why season 4 was full to the brim with actions and character development. So I'm not mad at the quick end but I would have loved at least one more season to really flesh the development and plot points. No more so than the Devineaux development in regards to the new Julia and Chase dynamic.

Before I go into that I want to address the solo Chase-ness that was fantastic. Chase got his ass kicked like 5 times this season, once by a chair.

And was clocked by a frisbee for good measure too.

Oh, and landed on his car another time. The pain in his face... I- help this man.

But he got to kick some of his own asses this season too ofc.

Anyway, Chase really stood up and said ‘I am a Himbo’ this season and it filled me with joy. Just look. veryveryveryvery handsome as always I approve of this message.

Enough said.

Let me get on with the big thing I want to talk about. The Chase and Julia dynamic reinvention.

If I’m honest, it did feel quick, due to time constraints, but not out of nowhere. My expectations for Chase and his growth was blown out of the water. I was incredibly impressed with his physical display for admiration for Julia in the end. His way of officially apologising, (as someone said on a rb of one of my posts), Chase is a person of action and his grand gesture of giving Julia the spotlight, as well as a few glowing compliments and a callback and twist of what he used to say, was a great twist on just an ordinary apology. I adore how you can clearly see that he means it.

It was monumental, if a subtle display of respect that clearly struck a positive chord with Julia, and only could have with Julia. Just look at her face in the gif above, PURE. She clearly seemed as though she had decided to forgive his past transgressions after his help in her rescue.

Most definitely helping in her decision to return to ACME to be his partner again. Know she isn't alone and that Chase truly has changed for the best. I love how Chase was complete rapture that she had decided to return, even going for a hug. The guy really went from S1 striving to be stoic all the time, to allow himself to wear his emotions and expressiveness on his sleeves. Just, good vibes right there. It felt like the s4 Chase we got was always there but hidden by his ego and by himself deliberately.

Wholesome stuff my guys. My heart was FULL. I tell you. FULL. I slapped my hand to my chest in awe. He even asked: ‘But your academic career?’ and was happy to be finally able to hunt down real criminals with her, as, and I quote, a family. Adorable.

Don’t even get me started on the fist-bumping. I would throw myself into a pit of fire for them.

And those inside jokes? I could be here all day. Their dynamic now, if not nearly displayed a much as I wanted, was nourishing to my soul. Just LOOK

And that is just one scene.

After the first time jump of 3 weeks, they appeared to be finally enjoying one another company, a true team. Then after 6 months, it seemed even more natural, playful too. They trusted each other's abilities and opinions. Sharing their belief that Carmen was good as well as supporting one another as good partners should, especially Chase. They look so comfortable in each other presence it was immaculate.

They appeared content, and I loved that most of all. Chase was genuinely interested in Julia’s explanations and it was heartwarming to see. Julia appreciating it too. Watching them interact as close friends now was such a treat. The last 2-3 episodes, in particular, Chase even asking her to continue and adding onto her historical divulges. Awesome stuff. And Julia running into Carmen just as she was about to punch Chase’s lights out was pretty sweet too, as well as her getting one in on Cleo, GO GIRL GO. Julia this season had so much more depth. Loved it.

Also, finding out Chase’s name is in fact a self-given nickname was right on theme with the show. So many people with real names we will never know.

Back onto the expressions and his enthusiasm. I mean LOOK. This dude- AND THE CAT JACKET RETURNS!

He just loves his wordplay.

Anyway- The effect Julia had on him was profound and just fantastic to see. He wanted to be better. Chase will no doubt rub off some of his own flairs onto her in due time I'm sure.

Chase working with carmen and the small interaction we got were great as well. Still a little rigid, but full of intrigue.

Chase wanting to go and save Julia, because he earlier felt as though this was all his fault, was precious too. And the whole Tigress and Chase fight scene was amazing. He trapped her inside a casket, iconic. And Chase showing up as Julia is like ‘omfg Devineaux is that you?’ As he just all suave says ‘fashionably late as always’ and pushes his messy hair back like HOOO BOY you lovely little stinker I would die for you. He was ready to fight 1 v 3. No one has the same determination as a Devineaux. For an ordinary guy, he is really able to keep up with the best, if not behind a tad I MEAN UM. DUDE SLID DOWN THE STAIRS AND JUMPED RIGHT INTO A HOLE. No second thought THEN SWUNG HIMSELF OVER NO PROB? Who is this athlete of a man?

Like my man, you are not graceful at all please let carmen do it.

In the end, he really did save them both which was vindication, Speaking of vindication:

Okay, I really went off track and hardly said what I wanted to say. I got carried away with gifs. I think I said what I wanted to say? Right now my brain is still mushie.

To finalize: I was content with the end. Zack and Ivy joining ACME as Carmen has some time to go truly find herself was an interesting idea. The 2 year time jump at the end left a few holes but hey, I’ll take it. Shadowsan returning to his brother was so nice to see, and Player all alone in the restaurant kinda broke my heart. The entire storyline with Chase and Julia was absolutely, revolutionary. It was what we deserved, what they deserved.

I think my love for Chase really made me live for the scenes and moments we got of him alone and interacting with others. Season 3-4 really were his crowning glory. I'm proud of him.

Also, I want to mention the Zack/Turtle scene because I nearly died when I saw it the way the turtle wiggles and the way he rUNS I- okay goodbye.

[beeblackburn]

The Anti-TBR Tag

I was tagged by @books-and-doodles! Thank you! And poor you, for I am a long-winded bastard.

1. A popular book EVERYONE loves that you have no interest in reading?

On general principle, I feel like the really popular stuff (Twilight, Throne of Glass, Divergent, The Mortal Instruments) ends up being stuff I’m inherently not going to be attracted to and some of them have their own hatedoms going on, so going after them in detail would be punching down (though I don’t particular like any of the above). So I’m going to try to go off the beaten path with these seven:

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab = nothing against her personally, though I heard her The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue was baaaaad, but apparently, she’s similar to Sanderson in the magic system being better than the characterization and I heard her writing’s got a white faux-female empowerment sort of thing going that I’m growing increasingly... discontent of by itself. I might try it out later, but I also got hundreds of books to drill through first and I’m in no rush.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo = I’ve been increasingly getting the sense that Six of Crows was a flash in the pan, Bardugo’s style more defined by fun than genuine substance. And given a rather scathing review that points out unearned shifts in characterization, lackluster supporting cast, and two really uncomfortable exploitative sexual assault fantasy scenes (one of which was underaged!), I’m gonna say no.

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik = I generally like Novik! She’s a very solid writer to me and I’ve bought most of her books, so this is purely me not taking to the Wizarding School genre. Sorry, Novik, "a twisted, super dark, super modern, female-led Harry Potter" isn’t the selling point it once was, and even then, I probably wouldn’t have taken to it. Especially when I’ve already got The Gray House by Mariam Petrosyan to read.

The Alloy of Law by Brandon Sanderson = I’ve got mixed feelings on Mistborn looking back: it’s hardly the worst of his oeuvre (Elantris is that and was admittedly his first book) and The Final Empire took a few narrative risks that I admire, I also found the resulting books a tad juvenile and I don’t take to steampunk, genre-wise. I’m not even that much of a Sanderson fan, so I’d rather just read the summary for all I care.

Storm Front by Jim Butcher = given what I’ve been told about The Dresden Files’ lessening of noir roots past the first few books, how it later became more flashy-and-bang magical, and how it’s pretty sexist early on (and from what I’ve been told, doubled down on it later on and having worse treatments of its female characters), I’m in no particular rush to read them. The urban fantasy genre on them only turns me off more.

The Doors of Stone by Patrick Rothfuss = hahaha, I’m sorry, I did read The Name of the Wind, and read select parts of The Wise Man’s Fear, but everyone, instead of waiting and devoting your time for this book to come, I would suggest reading Fitz, Who Is Actually Good and Can Wring More than Disgust and an Eye-Roll out of You in Robin Hobb’s Realm of the Elderlings, given she is far better at characterization than Rothfuss.

Anything by Paul Krueger, Sam Sykes, and Myke Cole = fuck all three of these men and the idea that I’ll pay for their stuff. While I can’t demand any of you not buy from them and I’ll hardly claim to be a saint in terms of ethics, purchase-wise, I would beseech you all please don’t buy from these three authors who have a history of inappropriateness.

2. A classic book (or author) you don’t have an interest in reading?

Charles Dickens = look, I know his word count is padded because of serial installments back then, but I’m sorry, I wasn’t that impressed by the child-sanitized versions of Great Expectations and Oliver Twist. They were easily some of the most boring of out of the child-sanitized classics I read. It was the pictures that kept me going and barely at that. No thanks.

Emily Brontë =  look, if I wanted shitty people being shitty to each other, I’d much rather read Joe Abercrombie because at least I’ll get some intentional dark comedy out of dumb shitheads being terrible to each other (Best Served Cold comes to mind). And I know we’re not meant to like these self-destructive people, but I’d rather not hate everyone that much.

Alexander Dumas = Three Musketeers really didn’t age well, just from the TV Tropes page and I’m not really looking forward to an adventure that goes out of its way to valorize its protagonists being adventurous assholes who dueled, drank, and womanized harder than anyone else and we should commend that because they were men. Ugh.

3. An author you have read a couple of books from & have decided their books are not for you?

Leigh Bardugo = like I said, I feel like Six of Crows (and Crooked Kingdom, to a lesser extent) was a flash in the pan and she’s been increasingly running on fumes ever since then. Good and fun with a decent eye for characterization, but hardly revolutionary, considering how I think Crooked Kingdom isn’t quite as good as Six of Crows, and the less said about Shadow and Bone, the better.

Neil Gaiman = I’ve read some of his stuff (and I didn’t quite see the hype over his writing, but liked it decently enough) but having heard that, in his Sandman run, he wrote in a transwoman solely to get killed for an emotional ending and how he defended that choice for awhile left a battery acid taste for me to read more. He’s a formative part of people’s childhoods, so I don’t blame anyone for being fans, he’s just not for me.

Steven Erikson = really nothing against the dude, I’m sure he's probably a decent guy, but I didn’t take to Gardens of the Moon at all and skimming Deadhouse Gates and Memories of Ice (which were admittedly better) made me realize its prose was something I would need a hard and sharp shovel to crack through, and the darting around of many, many POVs made me feel not invested in anyone.

4. A genre you have no interest in OR a genre you tried to get into & couldn’t?

I’ll answer both because I have the time:

I’m not interested in romance, mostly because it’s an entire genre built around the build-up. It’s usually the story about the beginning of a relationship, not the relationship itself. I’d genuinely like to read about the story of a romance that doesn’t stop shortly after the hook-up or before the honeymoon period ends. The City Watch parts of Discworld by Terry Pratchett, The Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan and The Sharing Knife by Lois McMaster Bujold all have romantic elements that are relatively undrenched in melodrama or frills, but none of them are pure romances, which is a huge problem. I can take romantic subplots in fantasy, but I can’t take the genre as-is.

Urban fantasy is a genre I’m not against having my mind changed on liking, but right now, I generally find it insipid, a shortcut to good world-building, short on great characterization, and an excuse to lampshade and pretense to being above fantastical clichés in a tongue-in-cheek attitude while still committing to them. I do genuinely like Rivers of London by Ben Aaronvitch, but that’s really the concession I can give the entirety of the genre. I took a crack at Rick Riordan and Cassandra Clare’s stuff, but it didn’t feel like my sort of thing. Again, would like to be convinced, but I’d much rather read a domestic or slice-of-life fantasy set in a more overtly fantasy world than the urban one. 

Also, sci-fi, but I’m trying again with the Wormwood trilogy by Tade Thompson, An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon, and either the Imperial Radch trilogy by Ann Leckie, or the Teixcalaan trilogy by Arkady Martine. I snoozed through Azimov’s Foundation and generally bored myself of hard sci-fi books, so I’m hoping contemporary sci-fi changes my mind on the entire genre.

5. A book you have bought but will never read?

A book I personally bought? Honestly, Traitor’s Blade by Sebastien de Castell. No particular reason, I just bought it at a closing-down sale at a branch of my bookstore on the cheap because the cover looked nice and didn’t really take to its blurb. I heard good things though, so if anyone else wants to read it...

I tag @vera-dauriac, @xserpx, @autoapocrypha, @kateofthecanals, @turtle-paced, @insecticidalfeminism, @secretlyatargaryen, @helix-eagle-hourglass-nebula, @xillionart, @jovolovo and whoever else that is following me and wishes to do this tag (I’d like to read your posts, so please tag me! :D)

[radishaur]

Hello can we get a pregnancy x reader with sexy prince Zuko please?? Thank you

Absolutely! I love the idea of Zuko finding out he’s gonna be a father. I am going to make this when he’s the Fire Lord, just because I don’t think he’d be able to emotionally handle having a kid until he’s begun dealing with his trauma. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

- Zoe

•••

Heir To The Throne (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Part: 1/1

Summary: See Request

•••

When I woke up, Zuko had already gotten up and left the room. Being Fire Lord was a job that sometimes called for his attention even in the middle of the night, so I wasn’t surprised to see his side of the bed empty.

I also wasn’t surprised when I began to feel nauseous as I got ready. I hurriedly raced into the bathroom, kneeling down over the toilet before hurling my guts out. This had been happening for about two weeks now and I had a feeling I knew what it was.

It had to be that I was pregnant.

I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure, which is why I decided to go to the Medical Wing. I sincerely hoped it was what I thought it was for many reasons.

I finished getting dressed before walking to your destination. I greeted the nurses and informed them of why I was here. They giggled excitedly, rushing me into a private room for the doctors on hand to run some tests. The Fire Nation had been waiting for an heir to the throne ever since Zuko and I got married 3 years ago.

I allowed the doctor to do his many tests before being sent out to wait. It would take about 2-3 days before any results would come. I made them promise not to tell Zuko until the results came back.

The next few days were nerve wracking, to say the least. I had to admit that I was hopeful the tests came back positive. Not only because I didn’t want to be sick, but because I wanted to have a child so badly and especially having one with Zuko would be a dream come true.

I was pacing outside the medical wing doors 3 days later when the doctor finally came out to tell me the results.

“Fire Lady Y/N,” the doctor said, bowing before you as he spoke, “I have the results of the tests.”

I took in a deep breath and nodded for him to continue. I was so anxious to find out that I didn’t think I could speak.

“Congratulations, Your Grace. You’re pregnant,” he informed me, a wide smile on his face.

I broke out into happy tears at the news. I hugged the doctor and thanked him a million times before letting him go back to his job.

Now that I knew I was pregnant, I was so elated. I couldn’t wait for everything that was to come. I was going to be a mother.

And I needed to tell Zuko that he was going to be a father.

I told my friends and his mother first, wanting their advice on how to tell Zuko. They were ecstatic upon hearing the news. They were all beyond excited to help me plan on how to tell Zuko. I wanted it to be private, but still special. I knew that he was always afraid of becoming like his father but that despite that, he actually really wanted kids. This was going to be a big moment for us both.

I finally decided on telling him by the turtle duck pond. That was always a safe space for us both and I knew in my heart it would just be right for it to be there. I convinced him to have a lunch picnic with me after one of his meetings.

“Hello my love,” I heard him say, hugging me from behind.

I giggled, twisting slightly to kiss him softly.

“Hello,” I replied.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he asked, turning me around so he could kiss my forehead.

“Every day,” I hummed, allowing myself to soak up the warmth of his embrace.

Zuko and I sat down under the tree and he began to unpack the food. I had the servants make our favorites and he smiled in delight upon seeing it. Apparently the servants had also packed a bottle of wine, which he took out to pour us both a glass.

I took mine from him, but simply placed it to the side. I wanted to enjoy our lunch for a while before telling him. I watched the turtle ducks swimming happily as Zuko laid out the food.

The cooks did an amazing job. The food was absolutely delicious and I definitely ate everything they packed. After all, I was eating for two now. Lucky for me, Zuko didn’t notice. I had always loved to eat so it wasn’t out of character.

“I’m really glad I’m able to share this all with you,” Zuko said, throwing a small bit of our food towards the ducks.

“I’m the luckiest woman in the world to be the one you share it with,” I responded, sending him a warm smile.

“My mother used to tell me that one day I would make my own family and spend time with them under this tree,” he continued, a happy smile on his face as he reminisced on his youth.

Zuko had told me countless stories about how he and his mother would spend time here feeding the turtle ducks. I knew it was one of his only pleasant childhood memories. I took his hand in mine and gave it a small squeeze.

“I can’t wait to bring my own kids here,” he said before rushing to add, “Not that I’m in any rush. I know it’ll happen when the time is right.”

“You’re going to be a great dad,” I assured him, preparing myself to break the news.

“And you an amazing mother,” he said, pressing a kiss onto the back of my hand before saying, “I know the topic came out of nowhere. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately.”

This spiked your curiousity.

“Oh?” you asked, scooting closer to him.

“I know I’ve had my doubts about having kids of my own, what with how my father was. But especially after seeing Kiyi with my mother, I guess I’ve just come to realize that I really want that for myself. I want to be the father I never had,” he explained, leaning back casually against the tree.

I gave him a quick peck as he finished talking. He let his thumb rub over my hand as he held it and hummed pleasantly against my lips. I pulled back and laid my head against his shoulder.

I was about to finally tell him the news, but began talking again before I could.

“You haven’t had any of your wine. Do you not like it?” he asked, turning his head to look down at me.

I sighed, sitting myself upright as I met his gaze.

“No, I guess I’m just nervous,” I lied, still trying to determine how best to go about this.

“Nervous for what?” he asked, genuine confusion crossing his face as his brows knit together.

“Well,” I began nervously, fidgeting with my robes, “I actually brought you out here to tell you something.”

Zuko waited quietly for me to continue. I took a deep breath and took his hand in mine once more. I smiled as I met his concerned gaze. It was finally time to tell him.

“I went to the Medical Wing about a week ago to get some tests done, and-“ I began explaining before he cut me off.

“Tests? Are you sick? What did they say? Why wasn’t I informed? Why didn’t you say anything? Y/N-“ he exclaimed, his fear over the situation causing me to laugh.

“Zuko,” I said through my giggles, effectively making him stop talking.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N!” he huffed, hurt that I would be laughing at his concern.

“I’m not sick, Zuko. I’m pregnant,” I finally said, a huge smile escaping my lips.

Zuko’s face instantly changed to one of shock and then one of pure happiness. He let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked in disbelief.

I nodded my head, happy tears falling down my cheeks as I watched him process what I had said.

He almost instantly pulled me into the most passionate kiss we’d ever had. I smiled into his lips as his hands cupped my cheeks softly. He pulled away and placed a tentative hand on my stomach. He had tears of his own streaming down his cheeks as he smiled.

“I’m gonna be a father,” he whispered, his thumb stroking softly against my belly.

“You’re gonna be a father,” I repeated, happier than I had ever been before.

The rest of the picnic, Zuko couldn’t stop touching my stomach. I had never seen him so happy before. He cancelled all his meetings for the rest of the day so that we could spend the rest of the day together.

It was our first day as a family.

[soaronmywings]

Burro (Coco x Reader)

A/N: So this is a little OOC for Coco, but I honestly just went with the song. I feel like it gives it more drama this way. But at the same time, seeing what he did to his own mother, I could see him behaving like this (especially with what happened to him at the end of Season 2). And I swear that I don’t write this kinda stuff all the time even though it may seem like it.

Warnings: Angst. Drama. Toxicity, Language for sure. Degrading. Violence. POSSIBLE SPOILERS.

Inspired by this song~

I've been a mess since you stayed

I've been a wreck since you changed

The phone calls began to get shorter. His visits became sparse. The light that once shined in his eyes dimmed, before eventually completely disappearing. You began to gradually decompensate. Thinking everything was your fault. You weren’t even sure how to feel when after two weeks of no contact, he walked into your apartment like nothing happened, lathered in the blood of a man whose name you would never know. When you tried to ask what happened, if he was okay, how you could help, he shut you out.

That’s Coco for you. You never knew what side of him to prepare for, although these days you could almost always await a fight or even worse nothing at all. Coco becomes a turtle when he doesn’t want to interact with people. He pulls away, tucking himself away into his safe protective shield of silence. What the fuck happened to the two of you?

“What the fuck Johnny?” Why did I have to hear that this-” You pointed to the patch over his eye and the burn covering his arm. “- happened, from fucking Creeper of all people? Do you think I wouldn’t give a shit, huh?” Your arms crossed over your chest in a defensive state. He sits on your couch, not paying attention to a damn thing that you’re saying, just smoking his cigarette like he always does.

Don't let me get in your way

I miss the lies and the pain

The fights that keep us awake

I'm telling you

“I don't know why I try anymore. Not like you do, pendejo (stupid). Just get out of my house. Take your shit with you too. I’m fucking done Coco.” You scoffed and walked away from his sedentary demeanor. You had enough. The constant fights, not knowing anything, and getting treated like a damn landlord. The two of you haven’t even touched each other with an ounce of love in months. He comes back to your house, and crashes in your bed. He never made it a point of making his space a shared space, so you didn’t either. This was your house, giving you all the power in the world to kick his ass out.

“What the fuck you want me to do Y/N? You wan’ me to come here and spill all my shit at your feet? You want me to tell you how this-” he pointed to his eye in pure rage “-happened? No. That’s not what I do.” He rose to his feet as stalked over to you. You knew something was up as of late, but you never expected him to become this ferocious with you. Never expected for him to get nose to nose with you like this.

I miss the bad things

The way you hate me

I miss the screaming

The way that you blame me

“Yes Johnny. I know this isn’t ‘’what you do’ ‘ight? But maybe if you didn’t sit and drown yourself in booze, weed, and self pity every hour of every goddamn day you’d realize that you don’t have to do this alone! I’m not asking you for a fucking itinerary, burro (Jackass).” you placed your hands on either shoulder and pushed him back.

Coco’s eyes went dark as he locked his hand on your wrist and whipped you around, pinning your arm behind your back and pushed your face into the white wall. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to puta (Bitch)? Huh? Because you best not be talking to me that way.” His fingernails dug into your wrist as he shoved you deeper into the wall.

“Get the fuck off of me you stupid son of a bitch.” You sneered at him, venom dripping off of your tongue, thrashing against his grip. All you got from him was a sinister laugh, before shoving you into the ground. “Watch your mouth, perra (Slut). I’m sick of your shit.” He spit at you, making you see red.

Miss the phone calls

When it's your fault

I miss the late nights

Don't miss you at all

You stood up in fumes, balling up his shirt into your fists and socked him right in the jaw. “This what you fucking wanted Johnny?-” Your connection to his jaw sent him back a couple steps, giving you the chance to land another jab in his ribs. “-This the only way you can feel something?” The rib shot caused him to go breathless, hunching forward. You figured that he would get the hint and just leave.

But boy, were you wrong.

You turned around to retreat into your room, but Coco grabbed you by your hair and yanked you backwards. His free hand wrapping around your throat, propelling you into the hardwood floors. He lifted your head up just barely, before pushing you back down, causing a rather painful blow to the head. He raised his hand and gave you a powerful backhand across your cheek, a dangerous, bloody grin spread across his face.

I like the kick in the face

And the things you do to me

I love the way that it hurts

I don't miss you, I miss the misery

“Get the fuck out. Now. I never want to see your face again.” You seethed as you took your free hands and tried to push him off of you by his neck. He took his hand and wacked you again.

Your vision started to go black, and you dug your nails into his neck in response. Johnny hissed in pain, increasing his pressure as he stood up, jerking you back into the floor. “Estúpida puta de mierda. (Stupid fucking bitch)” He gathered his bloody spit in his mouth before spitting on you, leaving his blood splattered across your face.

“You get your wish bitch, one thing you forgot to add is how i’m ‘bout to go drown myself in pussy too.” He snickered as he swaggered toward your front door. You scoffed as he walked away. “Not the only one with options douchebag.” You spat back.

This entire encounter, while it may have been a little more extreme than normal, it wasn’t completely dumbfounding. You two always had a love hate sort of relationship. You would scream, yell, and say some pretty awful shit to each other, but normally ended up back in each other’s arms before daybreak. This time though, something felt different. It was the end of his and your ropes, making this fight that much more explosive. 

“Makes sense. Eres un tornillo fácil. (You’re an easy screw)” His words stung.You grabbed the nearest item in your immediate vicinity, and threw it in his direction. “Keep walking Cruz. Hope you get HPV!” You called after him after he slammed the door shut behind him.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I’d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Problem with Spidey as ‘Iron Man Junior’

Proponents of the MCU version of Peter Parker have often defended his characterization as logical and necessary in context. But is this really the case?

Tl:dr version: No it is not.

Forgive some laziness on my part because I’m going to be presuming everyone’s familiarity with the comic book iteration of Spider-Man and his MCU adaptation for the most part. To say there is a divide between many fans of former vs. the latter would be an understatement.

Detractors (which I count myself among) typically sum this up as the character being reduced to ‘Iron Man Junior’. In general this refers to MCU Peter Parker’s hero-worshipping of Tony Stark/Iron Man, their father/son relationship and the similar emphasis upon high technology in their hero identities. A connected point of contention is Peter’s aspiration to become an Avenger.

This was outright confirmed by Tom Holland himself in an interview for the then upcoming ‘Spider-Man: Homecoming’.

"I think the difference now is that Peter Parker finally has an all-time goal, and his goal is to become an Avenger…Everything he does, even though he's doing it for the right reasons, is done so that one day he can become an Avenger and prove himself to Tony Stark. And I think we've never really seen Spider-Man with that kind of motivation before."

Defenders of this take upon Spidey have argued that this portrayal makes sense in context.

After all, Peter Parker is a teenager who’s grown up in a world where the Avengers are beloved, especially Iron Man. Plus in the comics (under J. Michael Straczynski’s pen) there was a time when Peter and Tony shared a father/son relationship. Tony even equipped Peter with a high tech costume as he did in the MCU. Spider-Man early in his career attempted to join the Fantastic Four in ASM #1 and later the Avengers in ASM Annual #3.

The problem is these defences just don’t hold up to scrutiny.

Let me first be upfront about my philosophy towards adaptations.

I in no way shape or form demand nor expect adaptations to be 1:1 panel to screen translations of the source material. I fully respect that changes are a necessity.

One of many 22-page comic book stories put out every month in the 1960s inevitably needs to be altered when jumping to a 90+ minute live action film in the 2010s.

Even the characterizations need to be altered where necessary if the source material is found wanting. *side eyes Emma Stone’s Gwen Stacy*

However, my attitude is that adaptations should at minimum respect the spirit  of the source material no matter what. To do otherwise defeats the object of adapting the work in the first place. If a film is just borrowing superficial traits (names, costumes, powers, etc.) and but not representing the spirit of the character, then creatively speaking it might as well be an original character.

This is the case with the MCU version of Spider-Man. A fundamental component of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko’s original vision for Spider-Man was that he was in essence the anti-Robin.

At a time when teenaged characters were sidekicks (Dick Grayson), supporting characters (Rick Jones) or the ‘kids’ in teams (Johnny Storm) Peter Parker was unique as a totally independent  teen hero. Of course that independence only applied to his life as Spider-Man, but that was part of the point. Spider-Man was his escape and release from the pressures and hang ups of his regular life, which included his doting yet coddling aunt.

A critical part of this was that he was a self-made  man. No elder mentor guided him in the use of his powers, helped him create his equipment or provided any sort of advice/accountability for Peter. He did it all himself. He was a loner.

On a meta level this is partially why Stan Lee (and for the longest time consequent writers) showcased Spidey not jiving with super teams. It was done to emphasis Peter’s independence and thereby his uniqueness within the genre. Even if that’s not so unique anymore (even in film), it’s still a baked in component of teen Spidey’s story. An essential aspect of who he is as a character.

As is his working class status.*

In fact these things go hand-in-hand. Just as Peter had to shoulder an ‘adult hero’s’ burden as Spider-Man (noticeably Lee didn’t dub him Spider-Boy or Lad as would’ve been common back then he also had to struggle for every penny. With the death of his uncle and his aunt’s poor health the burden of household provider fell on his shoulders.

When you take all this into account, having him fanboy over the Avengers and have a superhero mentor (let alone a billionaire one) is an aggressive misreading of the character.

The best way I can illustrate this is with an analogy from the opposite end of the spectrum. Imagine if you will a movie depicting Dick Grayson’s transformation into Robin. Except Batman was wholly absent. Not even an off-screen presence.

That  is how poorly MCU has missed the point  of Spider-Man.

And it was never necessary.

Contrary to defenders of the MCU, making Peter an Avengers/Iron Man fanboy was not the only logical direction to go with the character.**

Yes, in Peter’s world most kids would revere the Avengers and Iron Man. But in the real world not every kid or teen likes the Avengers characters or movies. Just as not every major pop culture phenomenon has ever been universally  embraced by contemporary kids/teens. In the 1980s not every kid loved the Transformers or the Ninja Turtles. In the 1990s not ever kid loved the Power Rangers or Pokémon.

Of course, most kids did, just as most  kids like the Avengers characters today. Similarly most  kids in the MCU by extension would look up to the Avengers. However, if anything this could actually help generate a more spiritually faithful rendition of the character. Consider that on literally the first page of Amazing Fantasy #15 Peter Parker was mocked by his classmates for being an outsider. A bookworm who didn’t know the difference between a cha-cha and a waltz.

In the context of the MCU wouldn’t Peter’s lack of familiarity or interest in the Avengers make for an appropriate updating of that characterization?

Let’s also consider that in the context of the regular 616 universe Spidey held little reverence for any of the heroes who had preceded him. This included Captain America and other WWII heroes as well as the Fantastic Four and their leader, the world famous scientist Reed Richards. Peter would’ve surely known who Reed and Cap were but as originally depicted by Stan lee himself, he wasn’t falling over himself during any of their early encounters.

So there was already a precedent in the comics for Spidey to not be dazzled by famous A-list heroes, meaning it’d be totally believable in the context of the MCU. Indeed this was likely part of the point of the character. Just as being Spider-Man didn’t improve his outsider status within the high school hierarchy so too was he an outsider among his super hero peers. The nerd to the Avengers jocks if you will.

But what of those comic book sources that say otherwise? Surely ASM #1, ASM Annual #3 and JMS’ run on Amazing Spider-Man corroborate the MCU’s take upon the character.

Yes and no, let’s tackle them one by one.

In ASM #1 it was made explicit that Peter wanted to join the F4 for purely practical reasons. His family needed money so he hoped the F4 could provide and income. When he learned otherwise he departed as quickly as he’d arrived.

In ASM Annual #3 Peter was far from eager  to join the Avengers and was equally unimpressed with them as a group.

He actively sabotaged his own chances to join at the issue’s conclusion.

As for Straczynski’s run…sigh…strap in.

At face value this run does indeed seem to support the MCU’s rendition of Spidey. However, the support it offers falls apart due to two factors.

The first is that, well…Peter and Tony’s relationship was pretty nonsensical.

I’m no Iron Man expert so I do not know how old the character would be roughly. From my impressions of the character though circa 2006 he wasn’t even in his 40s yet. Peter by contrast was 30 years old when you do the math. Unlike Tony he’d had several very serious romantic relationships and was back then happily married (barring a brief trial separation). He and his wife had lost a child and even believed one another dead at one point or another. Peter at the time was also working as a teacher to teenagers where he was clearly framed as their elder authority figure.

What I’m saying is that Peter was if anything more emotionally mature than Tony at this time. Or at least he was mature to the point where he was not going to view Tony as his father figure given the minor age discrepancy.

The relationship was clearly engineered with the pre-determined endgame in mind. That endgame being the ‘Civil War’ storyline wherein Peter would unmask upon Tony’s request and subsequently become a fugitive in defiance of Tony’s unethical practices. The latter would entail Tony threatening Peter and the pair coming to blows.

This brings me to the second factor. The totality of Peter/Tony’s relationship was designed to be a testament to how it was ultimately a bad thing.

Tony wasn’t the man Peter believed him to be.

Tony didn’t have Peter’s best interests at heart.

Tony was willing to spy, threaten and even attack Peter.

And along the way Peter and his family lost their home and the safety of Peter’s anonymity. The end result was Peter’s life becoming a shell of it’s former self, with his loved ones in serious danger. In fact you could view his fugitive status as a way to recreate the ‘good old days’ when Spider-Man was feared and hated by the public and authorities.

Had Peter retained his independence rather than surrendering any part of it to his ‘father figure’ Tony Stark, much of this could’ve been avoided. If nothing else Peter might’ve been able to unmask privately rather than publicly.

Whilst the MCU addresses the first factor via de-aging Peter, it has no answer for the second. It borrowed from the JMS run superficially and ditched the greater subtext regarding how Peter shouldn’t  have formed a relationship with Tony.

I’d like to conclude by addressing the most obvious counterpoint to everything I’ve said.

If Spider-Man were more comic faithful wouldn’t it undermine the entire point of him being in the MCU? The appeal of the concept was seeing Spider-Man interact with the wider MCU. From the audience’s POV seeing yet another Spidey flick confined to using Spider-Man exclusive elements might as well have been produced solely by Sony.

The problem with this argument though is that it doesn’t consider the myriad of possibilities available. Spidey could interact with the wider MCU and still be in character.

I’m no writer but off the top of my head:

Spidey could have defied the Sokovia Accords and thus been wanted by the authorities (a neat updating of his traditional ‘outlaw’ status), consequently coming into conflict  with Iron Man

Spidey might have still dueled the Vulture and interacted with Tony as he did in ‘Spider-Man: Homecoming’. However, instead of gradually realizing he should be a ‘friendly neighborhood’ hero, he could call Tony out for ignoring small scale crime which indirectly ‘created’ the Vulture in the first place

Following ‘Avengers: Endgame’ the dissolution of the Avengers combined with the huge uptick in the population and displacement of citizens might’ve caused far more street crime that Peter would have to deal with. The remnants of H.Y.D.R.A. might’ve exploited this to gain a foothold upon which to rebuild.*** That might’ve warrant an appearance from more grounded heroes like Hawkeye or Ant-Man

An environment like this could’ve been exploited by Quentin Beck to frame Spider-Man, exploiting his already shaky public reputation and make himself look more appealing by contrast

Or Hell just do ‘Nothing Can Stop the Juggernaut’ but with the Hulk as Roger Stern planned to do in the first place

I’m sure many of you could suggest infinitely better ideas.

In conclusion, no matter how you slice it, there were better options than rendering Peter Parker Iron Man Junior instead of Spider-Man.

*Peter, as depicted in ‘Captain America: Civil War’ was clearly not well off financially, yet consequent depictions of Peter in the MCU have de-emphasized this to the point where you could argue they are very probably not working class anymore.

This makes sense internally as a billionaire Tony Stark has no reason to take Peter under his wing but allow him to still dumpster dive for equipment. Giving the boy at least some modest financial stability would be a logical step in building a relationship with him and giving him more time and energy to put into his scientific and heroic pursuits.

Whilst I don’t exactly agree with everything said here, this post dives into the subject more deeply.

**And even if it was, if the context demands Peter be rendered so unrecognizable then maybe it was just creatively reductive to integrate him into the MCU the first place.

***They have after all had connections to organized crime in the comics.

[tanoraqui]

*takes feelings about the Penric’s Demon series and a hearty dose of @asukaskerian‘s Midnight on the Demon Patrol fic and yeets them into a blender with a text post I saw like a year ago; hits puree with no idea where this is going*

“There’s nothing else for it, Vinnie. You’ll have to take Holmes.”

“Grandma, I am not inheriting your death demon!”

My great-grandmother had broken her left hipbone two days ago; she could barely hold her head off the pillows that propped her up and her eyes were clouded with cataracts and painkillers. She lifted her head to glare at me nonetheless. 

“Vanessa Jean Watson, I will not hear such language from your mouth, not in my house and not anywhere. You-“

She stiffened with a sudden grimace and fell back to bed limper. Tears ran down her cheeks. 

“You know better,” she finished, voice rough with pain.

“Sorry,” I said, and meant it - but mostly for the fact that I pushed one more time. “It’s just, I’m a nurse. Not a...super secret FBI agent. What am I going to do with a permanent death spirit?”

None of us really knew most of what Grandma Watson had done with her life, for work. She’d been retired for most of my life, and her stories hovered between “fanciful” and “classified beyond belief.”

“Your granddaughter is exactly right,” said Latimer - George Latimer, he’d introduced himself, when I got to my grandmother’s house and found two FBI agents in the kitchen. Director of the Spirit Crimes division. “If you’d just consider Agent Moehner - she’s one of our best, you know. Nearly a decade of experience in the field, with strong riders-”

(The other agent, currently exiled to the kitchen with a mug of coffee, while we argued in the bedroom. She was tall, dark-skinned, and looked like she could kill a man with her pinky, and I hadn’t seen her make a single facial expression when we’d been introduced.)

“Absolutely not,” Grandma snapped, with the faintly echoing undertone that meant her rider was saying it, too.

“I’m not leaving the Watsons,” she hissed - Holmes hissed, Grandma’s lips going pale as though already dead.

“And you’re it, Vanessa,” said Grandma, color returning to her face (though not much; not much at all.) “You don’t see David flying out to my bedside, much less Therese. Liz is gone, and so’s your father. And the twins are too young.”

She wasn’t wrong. Great-grandma Watson, with her snappish authority, apartment full of dead plants, and inclination to look like a corpse to let her equally haughty permanent-rider death spirit speak through her wasn’t high on everyone’s Family to Visit list, and never had been. Nana Liz had loved her, but Nana Liz passed away ten years ago. My dad had spat back her barbs just as fast and with twice the cheer, but he got shot in Syria four years ago. Mom hadn’t been in the picture since just after I was born, and my older brother Dave was busy being a suburban dad in Boston, complete with twin toddlers, a Subaru, and “Sent from my iPhone” email saying, “Heard about Grandma’s fall - give her my best!” He’d sooner discorporate the family spirit than fly across the country to take it up.

Not that I’d flown across the country. I just lived in the next city over, because there’d been a job opening in a hospital and it’d seemed like someone ought to live near the 103-year-old matriarch, rider and all. She refused any live-in help. The unspoken family vote had been me.

“And you,” she added, voice softening a little. “Stop weeping, you old fusspot. You’ve been exhausting yourself for years, keeping back the viruses and cancer and such without any proper food. This damn hip is the last straw for both of us - have a good meal of me, then go fuss over Vinnie instead. She’s a good girl, she’ll look out for you.”

Holmes shook her head, side to side against the pillow. “Jillian…”

“I’m tired, Holmes.” She closed her eyes and sighed, and for maybe the first time I realized how small she was. Short and slight to start with, and shrunken with age, pallid and wrinkled and frail. Her personality didn’t usually allow for the observation.

“Ah, Holmes,” said Latimer, “are you sure you wouldn’t consider accepting Agent Moehner as your handler? As I said, she has experience in the field, and would return to it promptly with you - as Mrs. Watson said, I’m sure you haven’t had a, ah, decent meal in a while-”

Grandma Watson’s eyes opened and snapped over to the FBI director, flat and dead.

“When Captain Watson passes away, there will be two to thirty seconds during which I am bound by little more than my own conscience,” Holmes said icily. “If I were you, sir, I should stop trying to tempt me to hunger now.”

“Captain,” he blustered, “control your spirit-“

“Not a captain,” Grandma said with a quiet smirk. “Retired. And Vinnie’s going to be a private citizen, unless you lot talk her into signing some damn thing - and if her father couldn’t, you can’t.”

She pushed herself up again, wincing, looking at me. “I am sorry, Vinnie, when you just got here - if you need to go get coffee, or break up with a girlfriend, I can…” She sank back, half-scowling at her own weakness. “I can wait. I’ll be fine.”

“I…”

I fiddled with the hem of my jacket. I hadn’t even taken it off, since coming here after work.

I thought if I left, I’d probably run and not come back.

“It’s fine, Grandma. I can- I’ll look after Holmes for you.”

“Good girl.” A bit more color returned to her cheeks as she smiled. “Too responsible for your own good.” 

She closed her eyes, looking life-sized again. “Last words, last words...well let’s go with the classic. Sherlock Holmes!”

There was a tension to the air, as though something was about to break. Latimer reaches for something in his pocket. I fought the urge to step back - I knew the spirit’s name, but I’d never seen her use it in a real, summoning way. The bedroom was suddenly cold.

Grandma’s eyes stayed wearily shut, but her voice was strong. “I commend my death to thee. Make it and consume it, and as long as it sustains thee, do my will: go with my great-granddaughter Vanessa and look after her - and don’t be too much of an ass to her, because she’s not all boiled down to pure spite like I am.” 

Even weary and wrinkled, her grin was a shark’s. I shivered in the cold.

“This I bid thee again, and a third time to seal it.”

And she died.

It wasn’t gruesome, but it was unmistakeable, and all at once. Her breath gasped out, her cheeks sunk, and she locked into rigor mortis - and darkness seeped out of her greying skin. It coalesced into a cloud that hovered above her, not quite shadow and not quite smoke.

It extended a wisp to brush against Grandma’s still forehead, and there was no mistaking the tenderness in the touch. 

Then it lunged toward Latimer like a snapping turtle. He took a step back - but only into what looked like some sort of fighting position; his hands came up and they were traced with glowing sigils - which made sense, that the FBI Spirit Crimes guy would have a rider, too. Hurried footsteps behind me were Agent Moehner rushing into the room, talk and dark-skinned and holding a long, faintly glowing knife. 

“Containment, sir?” she asked.

Latimer nodded, as the marks started floating off his hands and stretching wide and glowing toward Holmes.

But Holmes had already pulled away from him, to circle me. It was a bit like being caught in a very small, freezing cyclone. Which somehow radiated impatience.

“Oh, I…”

Grandma’s pocketknife was on her bedside table; I grabbed it and, telling myself it was just like administering a needle, sliced the back of my forearm.

“Sherlock Holmes, for blood I bid thee to my aid-” Basic words you learned in kindergarten, along with your ABCs. The difference was, it was normally for nameless wild spirits - flickers of luck or light or peace of mind that everyone called on here and there. With a name on my lips for a century-plus-old spirit, it was like wrestling a very personal thunderstorm. I could feel the chill and the stillness and the inevitability of death in my bones.

“I invite you to share my corporeality, um-” That wasn’t kindergarten, or anything outside of a more advanced class - except Grandma had spent an afternoon every (rare) visit drilling any descendant she could pin down. 

“Terms and conditions!” Latimer shouted - maybe not for the first time; there was a roaring in my ears.

“-under the same terms and conditions as you had with Jillian Watson,” I extemporized at a shout.

And then I died.

Or, it really, really felt like I had, for a moment. It felt like I could easily imagine dying felt like - and considering that when I opened my eyes, there was a chill presence in the back of my mind that was unmistakeably Sherlock Holmes, a sentient manifestation of death, I don’t think I was wrong.

I’m sorry, I said silently, because I couldn’t help but feel his grief.

Go deal with the military idiot, he scoffed, and somehow turned away, crossing his arms at the back of my skull. They’ll want you to fill out some registration forms, for a Class A-1 spirit possession. Just don’t sign anything that gives them actual authority over us.

[moonlightflower21]

Killer ⛧

A/N: i hope you guys like this one :') this is complete angst so enjoy! <3

warning: this has mentions of shootings so please don't read if you don't like that.

Leonardo x reader

~my biggest mistake wasn’t falling in love, it was falling for someone that didn’t love me back. i guess i was desperate, i wanted the love you so frivolously gave to others for myself. but that’s life, you live and you learn. no matter how painful it is~

His brain was ricocheting against his skull, his eyes blindly looking around him to see...a glass cage. Around his body was a blanket, the one he shared with Y/N. A growl left his lips as he got up, feeling his blood drip from his temple and landing on his shoulder. But his anger was focused on something else...most specifically...someone.

"Y/N!" Leonardo yelled, his fists thumping against the wall. But no matter how much he tried, it wouldn't budge underneath his sheer strength. One final push and he grunted, slamming the wall with his hands. He was beginning to panic, the walls around him seem to close in on him.

'NO! You gotta breathe, remember what Master Splinter taught you'.

His eyes stung at the remembrance of his father, would he ever get to see them again? Would he ever get to see his daughter again? He squeezed his eyes closed, remembering her sweet innocent face. The day she was born was the happiest day of his life, Leo wanted a more traditional japanese name but you had suggested for something more modern, still incorporating the japanese culture. He had no issue, he agreed simply because the name had suited his little girl so well.

His thoughts were interrupted when he smelt the familiar scent of her perfume. His head shot up and she appeared, her smile pulled sweetly on her painted lips. You sat nonchalantly on a desk, eyes trained on the mutant turtle in front.

"Yes?" You asked, your tone of voice relatively calm despite the chaos growing in your mind. "What am I doing in here?" He growled, his patience wearing thin as the seconds dribbled by. He didn't want to believe this, his lover could be a murderer. But the signs were all there, what else did he need?

"I locked you in, how else would you listen to me?" You grinned, hopping off the table you were perched upon. He shook his head, turning around and pacing the small area he was given.

"You killed them, didn't you?" Leo spoke bluntly, looking straight at you. How was you so damn calm despite everything going on? How were you so relaxed when you locked him in a cage?

"You gotta speak up baby, I can't-"

"You killed them, didn't you?" He spoke louder, his words cutting through his heart like bullets. 'please say no, please say no'

You paused, saying nothing, but he got the answers he wanted. Shock on his face, confirmation on yours.

"Oh my gosh-" He murmured, his eyes begging to sting with tears. Now wasn't the time to become overwhelmed with emotion, but how could he stop the dam of tears threatening to break loose at any given moment?

"How could you Y/N?! How could you do that?? How could you kill them??" He ranted, his voice becoming higher with every word being said. He looked straight to you, his fists clenched by his side. "What about us? What about Hana?? Did we mean nothing to you? Or were we just pawns in your little twisted game?" He stepped close to the wall, his eyes penetrating your gaze. His head felt as though it would burst, so many thoughts rushing to his mind. How had he never seen this before? How could he never see this horrible side? How could you go against the very message he lived by?

You froze when he mentioned Hana, the feelings you tried to bury came to light. Hana, your sweet baby girl. You wished she had never been dragged into this mess, wishing she never grew up thinking what a mess her own mother was. What a terrible mother she was doomed to have. But you couldn't lose the upper hand here, you couldn't let him know that you were breaking apart at the seams too. So with your face pulled into a neutral expression, you spoke again.

"It was easy, they-" "just shut it!" His voice was menacing, disgusted at the person before him. This wasn't Y/N, the one he fell in love with. Your mouth clamped shut, taking a deep breath through your nostrils. "Fine, if you wish Leonardo" and you turned around, walking in the direction of the door.

"Nonono Y/N! Don't leave!!" He yelled after you but his plea fell on deaf ears as you slammed the door shut after. 

The second the door closed you broke down crying and cursing away. You pulled yourself into this horrible dark abyss with no way out, you had to suffer the consequences. No matter what.

His fist weakly leaned against the walls, he had to find a way out of here. And to so, he must follow whatever your game was. He wiped his tears, pushing out any distracting thoughts about his family, about his sweet daughter. He had to win you over somehow to escape.

🔪🔪🔪

"I brought you lunch" your voice rang out, entering the room. He sat up straight, turning around to see you re-enter again. In the short span of time you were gone, he had formed a plan. Granted, he didn't have much time and it wasn't the BEST of plans but he had to try, he had to get back home. With a deep sigh, he pulled his lips into a smile as he greeted you. "What's for lunch?" Leo asked, grinning down at you. For a brief second, he allowed himself to believe he was back at home with you. His smile was genuine and the fear and anxiety in his stomach was all vanished. You were smiling sweetly back, leaning in for a kiss...

"Just your favourite Leonardo" you chuckled, turning around. He snapped out of his trance, looking at you. His stomach still felt fuzzy when you said his name and he despised that. He hated the fact that you had so much of an effect to him despite what you had done. Looking to the side, he noticed there was a small window in which you handed the food to him by. But he wasn't hungry, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Yum.." he faked laughed setting the food down on the floor. He tried to look for the keys but they were attached to your waist and you were on the other side of this cage. How would he reach them?

"Y/N, can we talk?" He asked softly and you paused, turning around. "About?" You asked and he sighed looking down. "I-I know what you did, but we can try again in this relationship. Just me, you and Hana. Us three, we'll just run away" he came closer, his eyes looking at yours. You hesitantly took a step forward, eyebrows raised.

"How do I know you're telling the truth-" "You have my word" he held his palm out. "I promise you" he hated himself for saying that sentence. He never broke a promise before but it looks like he was starting tonight. Your eyes lit up, coming closer to him, knowing he always stuck to his word.

"Really?" You squealed happily and he laughed. "Yes" he laughed and out of pure happiness, you unlocked the door, coming to him quickly.

"I love you" you kissed his cheek and he hugged you one last time, it felt wrong to do that but he couldn't help himself. Taking one last scent of yours, he pushed you backwards, snatching the keys from your hands.

He locked you in, quickly locking the door behind him. "What are you doing??" You cried out, your small fists banging against the wall. An angry glare was etched on his face, as he threw the keys to the floor. His hand was over his heart gasping for air that never seemed to fill his lungs.

"I thought you loved me! You're a monster!" You seethed angrily, banging madly against the glass walls. He shook his head wildly, pushing himself away from the glass cage.

"Love you?? You're broken Y/N! I-I could never love you" his hand covered his mouth after that sentence, never thinking that sentence could ever be said out loud.

You gasped softly, never thinking you would ever hear that sentence. But it was true, you were broken in ways no one could ever fix. You were broken in ways, it would be impossible to place back together. A murmured response came from your parted lips, standing up and knocking over the objects in hot pursuit of something. Your eyes were watering, blurring your vision but not once did you stop.

"What are you doing?" He answered, taking a step backwards. His eyes narrowed watching you stumble over object's but you didn't take a break. You didn't answer, instead finally pausing your rummaging and a small cheer left your lips. Looking back to him, he gasped as his brain fit the pieces together. 'this wasn't happening'

"You couldn't love me, I'm a monster?" You chuckled bitterly, your mascara smeared down your cheeks and face. His eyes teared away from your face to look at the gun resting in your hands, a feeling of dread sinking in his stomach.

"No Y/N you need help, let me help you please-" Leo urged quickly, his tears beginning to drop rapidly as he tried to open the glass cage once more. Looking around for those keys, he hastily tried to open the door with his shaky hands.

"No, I don't want help! I don't need to be fixed!" You yelled, backing away to the wall. "Y/N, stop please!" He begged, trying to come closer. He threw open the door, wobbling forwards to try and reach you. But in your eyes, the look of regret and tiredness swirled in your orbs making his blood run cold.

"No! Just stop it. I-I thought you to be someone you weren't. The times I cried without you there. You were always so busy doing patrol, you never made time for me and Hana. I begged and cried for you, but you I guess that wasn't enough. So you were right, I'm broken. I'm not okay. I never was" you answered, your tears spilling over your eyes and down your neck while his heart dropped, his body trembling. "Wha-"

"But I'm at fault too. I couldn't be a proper mother to our daughter, a good enough wife for you...it doesn't matter now, I hope whoever you end up with, could love all of you and Hana. You both deserve that much. I will always love you, Leonardo. Please tell Hana I love her. So, so much" and with a final soft smile, you closed your eyes, allowing the final tear to spill down your cheeks and you pulled the trigger of the gun that rested against your temple, awaiting the darkness to envelope you.

"NO! Y/N!!" Leo screamed, his eyes closing hearing that bang of the gun go straight through him. No training in the world, no mediating, could have mentally prepared him for this. He opened his eyes slowly, everything happened in slow motion. And he wasn't able to control anything of it. Seeing his ex-wife body lay there, in the pool of her crimson sticky blood was something he'll never be able to erase from his memory. And he hated you for doing this, for scarring his brain of this sinister memory, knowing it would never leave him anytime soon.

His lungs weren't cooperating, it was as though his mind had completely shut down. This couldn't be real. The world was playing some sick game, this was just a nightmare. But no matter how many times he pinched himself, or willed himself to awake, this was the reality he had to face. He sobbed, his cries broken and strangled. His hands covered his face as he wept, not able to look at you.

🔪🔪🔪

Outside, the blur of commotion made his mind go to a different reality. The happy memories of him and you played through his mind like a DVD. He was aware of the paramedics inserting some needle in him to test his blood, the rustling of the fabric around his shoulders provided some warmth to his skin and his brothers familiar voice around him grounded him back to his reality. The one he wanted to escape from. But nothing could console the hole left deep in his heart and soul.

"Where's Y/N?" Someone else asked and he made contact with the person, April. With a bitter chuckle, he spoke.

"She's dead, Y/N was the killer" Leo laughed while his tears poured from his eyes. Someone came around him, burying him in their arms but he didn't want it. He had no energy to push them away, only hoping they could finish the hug so he could go. The smell of Y/N burning through his nostril, the smell of her putrid blood on his skin. He stood abruptly, needing to go home away from the madness around him. The blanket fell from his shoulders as he walked away, trying to hold in tears threatening to break at any given second. "Listen-"

"Let him go, he needs time and space" someone whispered behind him, Raphael.

🔪🔪🔪

He finally entered his home, looking around the empty living room. He honestly didn't think he would be back in the lair but then again he never thought in his life he would witness the death of you. He didn't think he would uncover secrets that would literally change his life forever.

"Dada!" The small cheery voice of Hana made his heart beat faster. He looked down at his small baby girl, a tired smile pulled on his lips. He was sure his eyes were still bloodshot and puffy, his face tinged with red. "Hey princess" he whispered, picking her small body up in his arms. He embraced the little girl, trying so hard not to cry on her shoulder.

In front was Master Splinter, smiling sadly at the pair. He knew what had happened from Mikey and Donnie explaining over the phone and he gently nodded at his teary eyed son. Turning around he walked to his room, knowing that his son would talk to him when he was ready to so.

"What's wrong?" Hana asked, a brow raised in concern. He placed her back down on her small feet again, brushing her hair back with a finger. "Nothing is wrong, angel" his voice cracked and he coughed, trying to hide the tremble so prominent in his voice. Leo tried to force a smile on his lips but it didn't work, he physically couldn't do it.

"Where's mama?" The dreaded question was asked, and all the memories of tonight was played in his mind. He took a deep breath, crouching down so he was at her level. "She's- she's gone" he whispered and Hana looked confused, pursing her lips in a pout and looking over his shoulder. "Lets visit her!-"

"No Hana, mama is gone. Forever" he inhaled a sharp breath through his nostrils, his head bowed sadly. "Forever?" She murmured, her hands toying with the ends of her t-shirt.

"It's okay sweetheart, you have me, and your uncle's and your grandfather. We all love you. Your mom...she-she loved you too" despite himself, a tear rolled down his cheek. Her small little hands wiped away the lone tear, her head cocked to the right as a cute smile donned her lips.

"Okay...can we watch T.V.?" She smiled and Leo slowly nodded, wishing he could be in the mindset his little girl was in. Care free and happy, not knowing the dangers the world held yet. He was sure she would ask for Y/N in the morning, the next day until she was old enough to actually find out what had happened to her. Leo looked at her small face again, her features looked eerily similar to that of yours. Hana's eyes, nose and lips were an almost replicate of her mother's.

He hated this feeling, stuck between hating Y/N because of all the pain she caused but loving her because she was the mother to his baby and because of the relationship they both shared. He thought both of them were so happy, what had he missed? What had led her to commit such a heinous act?

His eyes shot down at Hana who eagerly nudged his hand to get him to move, a trait Y/N held. He smiled softly, picking her up in his arms.

"I'm so sorry" he whispered, kissing her cheek. Taking a breath, he followed his daughter to the T.V., trying to pretend everything would be okay. And maybe it will be, time heals all wounds they say, you learn to live with the wound. But it doesn't always heal a broken heart, it doesn't heal all the memories of the past. No matter what, he was determined to raise his daughter to be the best possible person she could ever be. Maybe one day, he would tell the truth about her mother to her but right now, he was focused on his daughter. That was what mattered to him the most right now.

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

Name: Moon or Rose, sometimes Luna to people who have known me for a long time

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Height: I honestly can’t remember what they said last time they measured me an it wasn’t even “accurate” because slouching and hunching and scoliosis but my mother did it again when I was in bed and she had a tape measure and I’m 4′8 I think? :D

Languages: English

Nationality: Irish (American...Long Island)

Favorite Fruit: Rasberries, Strawberries, Pomegranate, Tomatos, Cherries

Favorite Sent: Roses, Fresh dirt, Gardens, plants and Flowers, any type of wood, rain, popcorn, Curry, (never actually tried but WANT TO) any type of hot beverage, any type of bake goods out the oven ..

Favorite colors: Black, purples and blues, ESPECIALLY the dark ones, any type greens ......... Also reds and pinks .......

Favorite Animal: Rat’s and rodents, always, ever since I was little ... Bats, Owls, bigger felines and canines (Lions, Tigers, Wolf’s, Etc.) Smaller Cats and Dogs, (Striped cats, fluffy cats, black cats, pit-bulls  and SPINX’S are my favorites cause those are the ones that I have expect for the last one) Frogs and toads too,... opossums,  chinchillas, squirrels, eye-eyes, pigs, rabbits, ravens, crows, in a certain way spiders, bees, moths, butterflies, fox’s, minks, lemurs....  skunks. flamingo’s, swans....lady bugs, crickets fireflies , goats....turtles, Gryphons ....(Far underrated and superior to dragons, this a fact not an opinion.)

And I’m about to admit this VERY, EXTREMELY begrudgingly and through my longest sigh ever but ... Deer? I just freaking. Wrote out an whole entire separate thing concerning my.... complicated perspective on deer and I had to copy and paste it into an entirely different document because I talked for way to long, but it’s gotten to the point where I have this desperate need to just ... vent of what this animal has become for me and what they mean to me, because this has currently became something that has made my heartache the more and more I’ve tried to pretend it does not effect me and I will say that it’s been a long time coming and as of recently I can no longer afford to avoid how much...So um. I’ve decided that this may be the year... That ...I am finally going to talk about this. Of course not like, right /now/ this minute ... But I will say in short that like, I live by a lot of deer and they’ve always been a part of my life for better or worse, and I could never really escape them or the part they’ve played in my life, hurting or healing, even if I wanted to. So, I say that, if I ever got the opportunity to observe one up close in my chair or feed a doe from my hand or hold a baby fawn or do anything like that with supervision in a moment, I totally would, in a heartbeat, without question. Even though from far away it hurts to think about the relationship I’ve had with them through who I was connected to. I refuse disrespect this animal just because someone who I loved who loved them hurt me once. Does that make sense? Sometimes.... Certain things that hurt you can also heal you. I’ve realized recently that I’m still not over how much I’ve been hurting. But that doesn’t mean that deer haven’t also, in their own way, been helping me heal. And I’m just thankful they exist for that because I’ve also learned through many narratives throughout the years, at in watching animation, how deer can have so many different sides to them and they don’t always have to be so interpreted as so “good” and “pure” and righteous and ...., ugh. As everyone projects to be, and I’ve always like to think that’s that’s helped keep a nuanced perspective of what’s happened to me throughout the years even as certain events were taking place and for that... I’ll always love and respect deer as an animal themself.  

As a character, trope though, I’ve always observed that they’ve always been these fucking, self important, entitled a-holes who always assume that they’re charming enough to deserve your time, and think they can just come and go in and out of your life as they please and are far too proud of themselves to admit  when they are wrong and will never apologize to you ever until they are pushed and until then, they just keep popping in and out of your life to vex and annoy you and ......

Mm.

Tastes like perspective.

Anyway, I’m writing something for later.

Maybe.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot.

First time sharing any inkling of my emotions about deer. 

I’m honestly so afraid about what this and the other post will entail for later, my other deer tail, if you will.

I’ll stop talking about deer before this gets weird.

You have no ideer......

Last pun until next post, promise.

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: My silly abled assistant worker got me addicted to coffee again before she had me institutionalized and soaking in my own piss for four days because she didn’t understand how hospitals worked, and then they cut her hours when she was about to abandon me in what was basically a nursing home for and after a month I started trying to explain to her and my caseworker that I wasn’t feeling very well and they basically laughed at me and told me I was dirty and so yeah I spent my 25th birthday in a nursing home with an infection that I didn’t know I had and then one of the staff yelled at me for allowing this nice hyper boy who lived there to help push my crappy black manual wheelchair (you know the one) and practically tossed me out of my wheelchair to get me to what she wanted and then accused me of soiling myself when she was removing my clothes for the shower when I was on the toilet and then started screaming at me again and accusing me of lying when I asked her why she thought I had an accident and then she slammed the door and abandoned me in the bathroom when I wouldn’t give her the answer that she wanted and then I had a breakdown ... So I decided to use my mom’s birthday as an excuse to come home and check what was going with me and get some real food and I told my assistant and my caseworker and they basically laughed at me and said was a bad idea and told me I was dirty again and then I was punished and taken home for being “rude” and “too emotional” but not before the assistant worker brought me some crappy bitter ass coffee flavored fudge when the rocky road was right next to it because she was some vegan ass “straight ally” one year younger then me with a 29 year old boyfriend millennial who “missed my birthday” and complained about how miserable I was and how wasn’t enjoying the pumpkin farm which she originally wasn’t even gonna take me through, because my caseworker insisted that she cancel plans and bring me back to the nursing home as punishment for calling my mother. So when she DID bring me back after arguing with me for being ungrateful enough to not enjoy a place that she didn’t even wanna take me, she left me parked on the living room carpet, instead of bringing back into the dining room where my laptop was set up, like she’d normally do, said “good luck with your mom”, and left. Then, it took me about an hour to wheel myself off of the carpet, find someone to help me to the bathroom, and get me the phone to call my mom back and tell her it was okay to pick me up.

I come home, discover I have a lump in my left breast which is benign but still hasn’t gone away, go to the doctor, and it turns out I had two infections. 

My mom seemed prepared to let me go back to the group home if I wanted to but after I told the doctor what happened with the staff worker the day after my birthday and the night before I called. The doctor told me that I wasn’t safe at the group home ether and ordered that I go back home with my mom and stay there.

So I’m back home now.

Two months. 

And of course my caseworker shit on me for THAT.

And of course she informed me that my assistant worker quit on me.

And I still haven’t spoken to my father since I’ve been back here.

And I still have the scar he gave me. 

And I’m still trying to ween myself off of coffee.

But before all of this my go to warm drinks were usual tea or hot chocolate. Sometimes hot chocolate with liquor.

My tongue went numb for a time because that was the first thing that I did non- stop each day for like four days after the day I finally finished my meds and my period hit immediately (which is already a whole other nightmare that I was dreading having to go through in a nursing home when everything already felt fucking inflamed and swollen and infected with already visible particles of dried up soap.... because.... it was ......) 

But like, yeah...... Tea and Hot Chocolate!  

Dream Trip: To have the opportunity to visit and interact with/get to know some queer cripple friends in person, and to visit my good friend @colorcinabrio in Mexico to travel round the world with them if ever given the chance! ❤

When Blog was created:

Somewhere around two years ago... I wanted to make blog that reflected my disability and really let me identify as a cripple and focused more focused more on cripple things and maybe make some cripple friends! ^ ^’  ❤

Last Movie Seen: That comes to mind that I actually enjoyed? The Favorite.

Favorite Holiday: I really love people’s birthday’s also and I always try and do something for my friends birthdays if I can! ^ ^  ❤

Songs on repeat: As of recently, ‘Fake Happy’, by Paramore.

 Tagged by @qjusttheletter

Tagging: @colorcinabrio @thetrainticket @finallyhaunted @thequantumqueer @rosered3 @isnezzed @purplepeoplelickingtruthpeddler @transplorer

Thank you so much for tagging me, Q! ^ ^’ ❤ I know it took a while to answer but as I said before I really did go on a deer tangent for a minute! ^ ^’ ❤ But being tagged by you brightened my day and  I know we don’t talk much directly but I really do think of you as a friend!!!! :D ❤ O.X

[myheartbeatskids]

Jon: how long ago did you see him, it was a long time ago, i know!

Me: it was over a year ago

Robbie: and did you think id wait?!?! O.O

Me: yeah.

And I just laugh. Cause I know he did. Watch he will tell me.

Robbie: well shit, I did! But how did you know?!?!

Me: it isn't about me, Robby.

Jon: wow

Me: its about you. You know what is important

Robbie: my kids

Me: yeah And yourself. That's why we get a long and i know you don't need any one.

Robbie: you know how important my friends are to me and i left them all for you

Me: you know you didnt. You know my email.

MWII laughs heartedly

Me: hush it Matt. I only saw one kid and I know you guys had daddy's girl and mommys girl. Did you bring both?

Robbie: yeah you know I did

Me: so you had someone waiting at home for You when I saw you the first time?

Robbie laughs: she was with friends. See that's why i get you, you're so strict!

Me: yeah well when i got to my car I cried. You had me all fucked up.

Robbie: but why?!

Me: because you don't just strut into a Wal-Mart 900 miles from home like it ain't a thing.

Robbie: I know! I didn't!

Me: I know.

Robbie: but why did you cry

Me: because you made Me smile.

Robbie: wait what

Me: you made me laugh. But mostly because I knew.

Robbie: that I left? And i made you proud? Hey I ain't a kid. I'm a grown man!

Matt laughs

Me: shut up Matt. I know. A kid wouldn't know what to do.

Robbie: oh

Jesse: I see this thing between you too. Its different than me and her. You two. Im gonna cry. Its pure joy.

Robbie: happy to be alive. We made it. Sabrina, you did, too. That's why you cried. Because you knew I left And took both my kids. You knew you cared enough about me to teach it to me. And you cried for you. Me. And everyone in between. I'm a totally different man because of you. I thought i was good. I knew I was good. I thought I was deep. But you made deeper my thoughts, my joy, my temper. That's what I see you don't know. How much you impact others. You type and you stay angry and you fight and you fight and you will until you die. That's what you told me, now isnt it?

Me: yeah And I'm not finished.

Robbie: but almost. Dad?

Jesse: yeah I'm there. I see I know her because of you. They're different, don't you see, Sunny?

Sunny: yeah. I want to be happy too

Robbie: see there. That's what I mean. That's how Sabrina feels almost every day and the Annie. "But doesn't every body" that's what you used to say. I remember.

Me: I used to always think about that. You were the first person in a very long long time I talked to about happiness.

Robbie: well You did good. It stuck with me this while time and it changed my life completely. And I want to marry you

Me: I could say yes. [I try to skip MWII quickly] whoa shit your father is sitting there

Robbie: what's that got to do with anything?

Me: Idk he might try to compare dicks or something.

MWII: wow I think I'm embarrassed. I thought I was retro romance but he's good

Bobby: I'm telling you!

MWII: but she got babies!

Me: Matthew!

Bobby: like hes an annoying younger brother.

Jesse: well You can! You're Tarah's kid!

Robbie: mmm. Well what do you think, Sabrina?

Me: well we could date... Man it would be So nice just to have a turtle shell so I could just hide!

Robbie: no I'm for the whole thing

Kenny: no I've been trying to get her to get with me for months and I started years ago

Robbie: but see youre too busy you don't know how to make time for her or how t9 make her laugh

Jesse: is that true? He knows how to do thwt for you?

Me: yeah. Matt, quit! You're not about to be watching porn and youre gonna get blue balls all night!

Matt face palms: i hate myself

Jesse: well You are insane aren't you?!?!

Matt eagerly: uh huh. And i think you need to leave Robbie!

Jesse: he used to take my hat and throw it out the front door. Sabrina found 5 hats under the porch one day all belonging to me because obviously i wouldn't leave but my hat would stay!

Robbie: he's a little orphan and hasn't found anyone to love yet

Me: hes like a poltergeist.

Jesse: well this is really romantic.

Me: yeah it's a little strange isn't it? And he's your son and every thing to top it all off

Jesse: do you care?

Me: no its just unexpected. Like when I saw you at Wal-Mart, Robbie.

Robbie: yeah I know! You ran off!

Me: well i didn't mean to initially. I turned to tell Annabelle but she was gone.

Robbie: yeah but you did linger, we noticed. Well my daughter did

Me: I saw you running after me

Robbie: yeah well I didn't know your car

MWII: ohhhh shit.

Me: yeah I guess that makes sense. But then you got in your truck and i thought your daughter had gone in the store

Robbie: yeah she did.

Bobby: omg this is romantic!

Me: you run really fast. Like I thought I was crazy I was all no.. he probably went in the store. No one with that short legs can move that fast! And then disappear!!!!

Chuck: remember that ghost truck yesterday?

Me: that shit was funny.., i was all dam I thought it was a real truck... Then i got disappointed it was!

Robbie: is that what made you cry, that I disappeared?

Me: no you waited to run.

Robbie: well i told her what I was gonna do first.

Bobby: which was what? I'm on the edge of my seat.

Robbie: follow her home.

Bobby: to do what?

Robbie: tell her how I feel.

Me: O.O oh

Robbie: you're as lame as me. Hey dad. She used to do this shit to me. All sure and secure of herself and I would be all "oh" "but" "uhhh"

Me: he was cute tho.

Robbie: oh i bet. Cause you kept doing it.

Jesse: well go get her and bring her to me so i can place my hands on her head and bless her

MWII: well go on now, you know I don't want to marry you

Me: no Jesse! You just wanna suck what's left of my brain!!!

I decide to go out and smoke...

Jon: she looks like me when I was 10 ans ahe wanted to save me from the kid factory and I said "this lady loves me too much!!"

(Jesse did)

Out side:

Me: Chuck

Chuck: do what you want

Me: no, Chuck give me some advice.

Chuck: I wanna marry you!

Me: Jesse! Please tell me you don't wanna fuck!

Jesse: i don't wanna fuck

Sunny: this is too funny!! Let me meet him and I'll tell you what to do. I'll be your bridesmaid. Me and Annie we will share duties

Candy: me too mom

Me: sunny! Well it sounded like you already decided!!!

MWII laughs hysterically: shes all WTF?!?!

And laughs forever.

Shome: no one can tell you what to do.

Me: I know.

Bobby: then why you ask?!

Me: it's just so sudden!

Eric: it's been over a year

Me: well see I been busy. And i was just telling Jesse and the kids that i don't need any one.

Bobby: but romance!

Me: but I'm not like that.. I've pretty much always been single

Bobby: well that's stupid if you believe in true love and you know MWII ain't gonna do that for you. He just tries to protect you. Thats all.

Jesse: you look sudden but you already knew. He did everything you wanted. Did what -- did you promise?

Robbie: yeah.

Jesse: see thats all I have to say to you.

Robbie: Well shit Sabrina don't forget to breathe!

Me: oh! Well shit!

MWII: shes so funny

Me: you and kept calling me dumb! And he was sitting there waiting why didn't you say something! Well shit!

MWII: cause i didn't want to! Fuck you bitch! You're my sister!

Me: well quit telling people you're my husband!

MWII: shut up. Don't contradict me!

Me: alright, so you'll need to meet the kids

Robbie: all?! 0.0

Me: what if I said yes?

Robbie: 2 and Candy. You know my 2 already love you.

Jesse: do they?

Me: mmmhmm

Jesse: how do you know?

Me: they told me.

Jesse: well shit, idc go on get married

Me: you gonna pay for my wedding, daddy? You know you always wanted to be my daddy.

Jesse: I don't talk about money with strangers that fuck my son

Me: how about kids you baby sit and encourage you to take back your living ane abused kids like Jon?

Jesse: that's your kid, too. I'm bored. Hurry up and get married so i have something to do.

Me: brain wssh us? Do our laundry? Dirty dishes? Cook us food?

Jesse: are you not an adult?

Me: half the time lately im five or 6 why? Dont act like you're not 22.

Jesse: don't tell my real age. People can do math you know.

Me: ok, well Robby. Let's hang out, I don't have time to schedule a wedding

Robbie: oh yes you do!

MWII: sabrina goes what?

Me: no I was just gonna argue. No open ended questions, you know I stand my ground.

Robbie: oh friendly banter!

Me: well why aint you called or anything?

Robbie: well You look busy! And i just been working. And to be truthful I did need my time, you were right.

Me: well You do run really graceful.

MWII: shut the fuck up Sabrina you're just a nerd. Just say it Jesse you know you want to

Jesse: I can't! I'm shocked and pleased! Im surprised she actually found someone to love.

Bobby: now Sabrina don't cry

Me: wow that's a tall order! It's easier to get married!

Jesse: she's a tough cookie, and it would be one of my kids. I think that's pretty amazing.

Me: you know me and the bestie talk about this...like men living on their own to get to know themselves before even thinking about marriage

Eric: well now its time!

Jesse: I was wondering why you get along so well. I remember the first time you saw her, your eyes lit up with joy. No not at your parents in Okmulgee

Me: oh Oklahoma. When I was walking in the street with tiffany

Jesse: yes

Me: and you hid your eyes

Robbie: i thought they were making fun of me and i was already married a month and a few days And unhappy. I didn't want you to deal with that

Me: then I saw you at UNM after i gradh9and went to have lunch with the bestie.

Jesse: how do you remember that?

Me: because both times I said how did hot and sexy get on this Earth and both times he ran away too fast. And I've only said that about him.

Jesse: O.O well go on get married then!! Sunny you don't need to meet him!! That's what I prayed for! I put that in Mr Gloom for her!! God works fast, doesn't he!!!.?

Me: yeah. I didn't put anything in it, I couldn't think of anything. I knew I work too hard not to be a success. So thank you.

Jesse: well aren't you a little bitch? Seriously. You didn't put anything?

Me: I didn't.

Jesse: you sent me the link and you didn't?

Me: I didn't get to it. I was busy trying to fix everyone else's.

Jesse: like you tried to fix his.

Me: i should put wrinkles tho, I noticed my frown lines are deep and solid

Jesse: there's always next year

Me: i figured if I just smiled more, they would go away on their own. So it looks like you already put it in for me this year.

Bobby: well fucking shit! Im gonna cry!

Just about every one else: its about time you catch up!!

Bobby breaths it back in: there I'm caught up... O no I'm not!

Robbie: well You know you could be kissing and they will pucker up.

Jesse: looks like I did it for you two times.

https://burnzozobra.com/all-about-zozobra/

[prettylittleliarsxxxx]

Since “Pretty Little Liars” wrapped in 2017, Lucy Hale has barely slowed down. The actress starred in The CW TV series “Life Sentence” and recently landed a couple of soon-to-be announced film roles.

Now she’s hoping to raise money and awareness for the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

“I’ve always had pets growing up. I think my first pet was a hermit crab,” Hale told HuffPost. “I had everything from a turtles to fish to a cat to dogs. But I guess my real love of my animals when I got a dog when I was 15. I have a dog named Elvis now. He’s my little buddy, he’s like my child. In my opinion, animals are one of the most pure things on the planet, and they don’t always get a voice.”

To help raise money and awareness for the cause, Hale is joining with Honey Nut Cheerios for the Good Rewards initiative, which gives families the opportunity to do good while teaming up with celebrities by helping raise money for charity.

We caught up with Hale about the initiative, her new projects and more.

The Good Rewards initiative is also aimed at getting the whole family involved. What are some of you favorite traditions that you still do with your family now?

It’s so hard now that I’m older and everyone is all over the place, but most of our traditions revolve around the holidays. One thing that we never skip out on is every Christmas my mom will get us all matching pajamas. My family is not huge, but she’ll get us all matching pajamas and we’ll all take a picture. We’ve been doing that the last seven or eight years, which is super fun. And I have two nieces now, so we’re restarting all of the traditions again with them. It’s the best.

You’ve been pretty busy since leaving “Pretty Little Liars.” You starred in the series “Life Sentence” earlier this year. What’s next for you? Are you mulling other projects?

I am. You know when you can say you’re involved in something but you can’t say what because it’s not out in the press yet, but I start up with a couple of things in October, which is really fun. After the last series I did, we did a season of it and then it didn’t get picked up. So after that I made the conscious choice to take a little time off, which was fun and necessary. But it’s also cool because I can be picky about what I want to do next. So, I’m ready to get back to work. Most of the stuff I’m doing is film-related, which is cool, because I haven’t really done much film. I’ve been in the TV world, and the characters are nothing like I’ve done before. So it’s going to be a stretch, but I like a good challenge.

What at this point in your life are you looking for in a role now that you can be, as you say, more selective?

I’m at the point right now where people are allowing me to take risks and they’re giving me that shot, which is really cool because I haven’t always been in that position. For me, I love all genres. I love all sorts of films and TV shows. But I always want to be part of something that tells a story and that means something — that the world needs a lot more true stories and a lot more stories that make a difference. For me, it’s about finding those projects and characters. I always find myself in every character I play. I gravitate toward the darker, dramatic stuff, but one of things I’m doing in the fall is romantic comedy. So I’m all over the map.

You’ve also dabbled with music through the years. Do you think you’ll ever jump back into the music scene?

I do. I love music. It’s such a huge part of my life, whether I’m actively pursuing it or not. I just recently auditioned for doing a live-action version of a musical. I’d love to make another album. I think certain things would have to line up in my schedule, but you never know. There’s so many ways to utilize it now. I’ve always had a dream of wanting to do Broadway and theater. So, we’ll see!

You have great fashion style. You’re in the spotlight, but somehow you make it look effortless. What’s your approach?

I guess I’m lucky because I’ve always loved fashion. I think it’s such an amazing way to express your personality. I really don’t have any rules. I don’t really have a system. Like, my closet is a disaster. So me putting together an outfit is a miracle every single day. I just get inspiration from people on the street, on Instagram. Honestly, my approach right now is whatever is at the forefront of my closet because I’m not about to dig in there. I don’t take myself too seriously. I don’t take fashion too seriously. I always want to be comfortable, but I never want to be boring ― like, I’ll never do the same thing twice on a carpet. I keep it fun and light and hope that it works out.

Having been on “Pretty Little Liars” for some seven years, it tied you up a bit and now you have a little bit more freedom. What’s been the hardest thing about letting a series like that go, and what’s been the best thing?

I think it’s always really scary to let go of the familiar. We were on that show for basically my whole 20s. I basically grew up on that show. I grew up with those people. It was essentially the same crew the whole time. It was obviously the same cast. We really did create this comfortable environment where everyone genuinely loved each other. So to let that go was very bittersweet and sad. But at the same time, we all recognized that the show was a great platform for all of us. We all recognized that we developed huge support systems. And I think we were all ready to go off and spread our wings a little bit and try new things. The good thing about that show is that the fans of those characters and those stories — they’re always going to be there and will go down in history, I think. So, it’s going to follow me wherever I go, but I sort of welcome it with open arms and feel really grateful for all that it’s brought me, and the friends, and the fans — and it’s really helped be hone my craft, too. Eight years of being on a show, you learn every aspect of what you do.

At the same time, the new spinoff show “Pretty Little Liars: The Perfectionists” with “Pretty Little Liars” actors Sasha Pieterse and Janel Parrish is kind of letting the show live on in some ways. How likely do you think a reunion with you being involved is possible down the line?

I don’t know necessarily know what the show is about. All I know is that the characters are placed in this new world. I’m so open to that. I love Sasha. I love Janel. If, for some reason, they wanted me to be a part of it, I would absolutely do it. I just don’t know the roles that they live in so I don’t know how the characters would fit in, but absolutely — I would always be down for that ... I’m very curious to see what they are going to do with it. I’m definitely rooting them and can’t wait to see it.

The show has helped afford you so many fans. You have some 21 million followers on Instagram. What’s your approach to social media these days?

Social media is something that I do struggle with the idea of it. I genuinely love sharing parts of my life and showing people my dog and showing people my family and promoting whatever project I’m doing. And then when you have a platform like that — I firmly believe that life is about giving back, and if you’re given a lot, you should give back ... I do have this platform where I can speak to people and try to encourage them to do good as well. But it can be toxic. It can interfere with everyday life. It an interfere with your self-confidence and you can develop insecurities because of it. But I think that it’s different for everyone and you have to create boundaries for yourself and recognize what works and doesn’t work for you. For me, there are some days where I’m like, “I’m in a bad mood. I feel insecure. I’m not going to go on social media today.” And then I wake up and feel like I can handle it.

You grew up on “Pretty Little Liars,” and prior to that on various others projects — all in the spotlight. How do you stay grounded and true to who you are?

I mean, that’s a great question, because I didn’t always feel like I had an identity outside of my job or the public image of who I was. My journey over the last couple of years has been figuring out I’m a person outside of my career or how many followers I have. It really is about the little moments you take for yourself, and I love my people my people — my tribe. You really are who you walk with. And I have grounded, real, unbelievable people in my life that help me see the bigger picture because it’s really easy to think only inside your bubble. But there’s this big world out there. So, I love doing charity work. I love traveling and I love my family. These things help you see past your own little world. You know, it’s a process. But you figure it out as you grow up.

[rory-the-rude-blog]

Task 001: The Devil is in the Details

((Trigger warning: Question 60 asks about self-harm.))

The computer screen lit up in front of Aurora, showing her her own face as picked up by the small camera. She looked bored - and what a coincidence, because she was bored. But this session was necessary, according to the medical staff. “To make sure your memory hasn’t been affected by the cryostasis,” one of the doctors had told her, like she was speaking to a child. What they didn’t say was that they were checking their psychological profiles again - because that had to be a factor, right? Space madness was not great for crew morale.

The screen changed. Her face was replaced by the Apollo Corporation logo, formed out of lines of code. Samson’s voice rang out clear from the speakers.

“State your name and access code.”

“Aurora Roth, Access Code 13122101. But you knew that already.”

Samson did not respond to her sass. ‘He’ only proceeded to explain the rules of the test. Respond as thoroughly as you can, so your answers can be compared to the results on your file. Do not purposefully lie. Do not answer ‘I don’t know’. 

“Are you ready to proceed? Only answer in the affirmative if you have understood the assignment.”

Aurora sighed. “Let’s get this s**t over with. Ready.”

Personal

1)      Age?

“Twenty-five. Twenty-six this December. No, I have not forgotten my own birthday.”

2)      Gender?

“Female. Cisgendered.”

3)      Romantic/Sexual Orientation?

“Not f**king interested. S**t, wait, I didn’t put that before. Fine then. Heterosexual.”

4)      Height?

“5′1, but tall enough to kick ass. Make a note of that, robot.”

5)      Race?

“Caucasian.”

6)      What do you look like?

“Christ, this is like a first grade homework activity. Um. F**k. How do I describe myself? I have light-brown-slash-dirty blonde hair that hangs just past my shoulders, with bitchin’ bangs. My eyebrow game is strong. I have blueish-grayish eyes. And I’ve been told I have resting bitch face. Good enough?”

7)      Any disabilities?

“The inability to suffer fools. It hinders me on a daily basis.”

8)      Is there a meaning to your name?

“My mother picked it. If there was ever a special reason why, she never told me. With her personality though, I’m just grateful I wasn’t named ‘Crystal’ or ‘Jewel’. Hey, are all these extra comments going to register negatively? Am I going to be told I have memory loss because I’m being a f**king chatterbox?”

9)      What makes you, you?

“I...? What??? F**k. I guess my sparkling personality? ... Hey, what do you mean ‘incorrect’?! That’s f**king rude. Is it my trucker mouth? I put my trucker mouth before, didn’t I?”

10)   What did you want to be when you grow up? What do you want to do with your life?

“... Be happy. And needed.”

Family

11)   Do you have parents? What are they like?

“Growing up, it was just my mom and I. Mom never really spoke about Dad - unless we were fighting, and then he was everything wrong with me. ‘You’re a demon, Aurora, just like your father.’ ... Yeah, I don’t hold out much hope for him being a nice guy.”

12)   Do you have siblings? If not, do you wish you had siblings?

“I’m an only child, and I liked it that way. I was pretty solitary growing up.”

13)   Extended family? Do you see them often?

“None. Again, pretty solitary.”

14)   Do you like where you live? Is it a safe place?

“Back on Earth, I lived in The Bronx. The neighbourhood could be pretty dodgy, but our apartment block at least had mild security. I could handle myself though. Do I like the Atlas-7? Sure, I guess.”

15)   Where do you live? Are they wealthy, poor or middle-class?

“Mom and I were lower middle-class. And now... do I get paid for this? S**t, I better get some kind of luxury for risking my neck out in space.”

16)   Do you have a lot of expectations or pressure on you from family to do great?

“From my mother? Hah, f**k no. I don’t know if she even knows I’m up here. ... I hope she does. I hope she’s proud of me.”

17)   Do you have pets?

“We never had the space for one. I would’ve loved a snake. Or a snapping turtle. Something mean-looking, like me.”

18)   Who do you look up to the most in your family? Are you close with them?

“Not really much of a choice when it’s just me and one other person, is it? I guess Mom and I were close at times. I have some good memories, at least. I drifted away a bit in high school, and, well, she never pulled me back. That’s that.”

19)   Is there anything special about your family?

“I come from a long line of psychics. I s**t you not. Some of my ancestors were spooky accurate with predictions.”

20)   Do you wish you lived in a different household?

“Nah. What’s the point of fighting the hand you got dealt? I made do with what I had, and it wasn’t all bad. It made me strong.”

Friends

21)   Best Friend(s)?

“A few good friends, but only one best. Matthew Reyes is, without a doubt, my best friend. He’s the one who inspired me to do this.”

22)   Who was your first friend?

“Matt, again. We clicked pretty quickly once we actually had a chance to interact.”

23)   What is your friend group like?

“Pretty f**king big. We were one of those groups that split off into different groups, and mixed and matched. There was my group - Matt, Nathaniel (Matt’s then-boyfriend and now-husband, and very sweet Latino boy), Jeanette (the eternal ball of sunshine), Vaughn (the mysterious one) and myself - and then the “popular” group - Evangeline (the ice queen), Benji (the jackass), Angela (the cool bitch), Gabe (the stoner-who-wasn’t-a-stoner-but-looked-like-a-stoner), Lavender (tailor aboard the Atlas-7. Never liked her) and her boyfriend, Will (the worst person alive). Despite our differences, we were pretty tight. Lavender and I managed to get all of the others aboard the ship as civilians. It’s one of the only nice things I’ve ever known her to do.”

24)   Do you have a love/hate relationship with any of them?

“I love Matt and Nate, and hate Benji and Will. Does that count?”

25)   Do you consider any of your friends to be like siblings?

“Matt is like my brother. I was one of the first people he came out to, and he was the first person to ever just accept me for me.”

26)   Have you ever hurt a friend or lost one?

“I’m sure I’ve hurt them plenty, but it’s not my problem. They know I’m blunt and honest. If they didn’t want to get called out on their bulls**t, they shouldn’t have f**king done it in the first place. Loss-wise... does having friends frozen in time count as losing them? Because I’m feeling that loss pretty hard.”

27)   Do you have a crush on any of your friends?

“God no. It was bad enough watching them all shack up with each other. I’d hate to actually be part of one of those relationships.”

28)   Do you share classes with good friends?

“We all used to have at least one class with each other - well, Matt, Nate, Jean, Vaughn and I did. The others were a year above us. They probably shared some classes.”

29)   Who do you go to the most when you need a shoulder to cry on?

“No one. I was the strong one of the group. I don’t really need anyone to share girly emotions with, since I’m 100% pure man.”

30)   What would you do without your friends in your life?

“Spend my days charting, navigating and mapping stars and other space matter, and my nights rooming with a treehugger.”

School

31)   Did you complete your school career?

“I finished high school and went on to college before joining the space program. I wasn’t studying anything special.”

32)   Did you like your teachers? Was there a good one? Bad one?

“Does anyone really like their teachers? I had a few average ones, one or two that didn’t quite click with my learning style, and a handful who I enjoyed. Same as everyone.”

33)   Did you listen to your teachers or were you goofing off a lot?

“I was a good student. I pick up a lot just by listening, so I tended to pay more attention in class so I could study less.”

34)   Were you a good student grade-wise?

“I was steady. Nothing to write home about, but nothing bad. Mostly Bs.”

35)   Did you need extra help?

“Nope. Matt and I used to help Nate with his English though. That was fun - and f**king hilarious too. I love Nate, but his English wasn’t bueno.”

36)   What was your school like?

“School was like school. I went to public school for a few years, then got into one of those psuedo-fancy academies for my later years of high school. We had one of those uniforms with the blazer-and-skirt combo. Blazers do not look good on short people.”

37)   Did you have bullies in your school?

“Every school has their s**theads, you know? And it’s always important to remember that anyone can be the villain in someone else’s story. I’m sure a few people would call me a bully - not that I ever actively went out of my way to be a bitch to someone. But not all bullies are the stereotypes you see on TV.”

38)   Have you ever gotten into a fight at school?

“Plenty. My crowning achievement was when I split Benji’s lip after he made Jeanette cry. For the next week, he flinched every time he tried that sleazy smile of his and made the wound bleed again. Good times.”

39)   Have you ever done something stupid or embarrassing at school?

“I was involved in Nate’s promposal for Matt. It... it was so gay. Was it embarrassing for me? Nope, I loved it. For Matt? That’s another story.”

40)   How far do you plan to go with school? Do you want to go back?

“I think I pretty much hit my peak. This is what I’m doing with my life now, and when we’re done and rehabilitated onto another planet? Well, who the f**k knows?”

Other

41)   Are you dating anyone? Do you want to date? Are you married? Divorced? 

“Jesus Christ, Samson, what are you, a trashy gossip mag? No, I’m single - always have been - and that’s the way I like it, thank you very much.”

42)   What is your favorite hobby? Do you keep it a secret?

“I like plotting the demise of my foes. No, seriously. I sit and think about ways to hurt people who’ve hurt my friends, in the privacy of my head. Is that a tad sociopathic? Maybe. Do I look like I give a f**k?”

43)   If you could have one thing in life, what would it be?

“Matt, happy and unfrozen.”

44)   Do you work?

“Do I work? Yes, dips**t, I’m a navigator. I didn’t forget the whole reason I was here in the first place.”

45)   Do you use social media?

“Nope. Never been interested.”

46)   Have you ever been in the hospital?

“Does when I was born count? If not, then no.”

47)   Do you believe in the supernatural, that there is more than the eye can see?

“Surprisingly enough, yes. Judge me if you must. I don’t care. My family have had ‘experiences’.”

48)   What do you do when you get angry, stressed, or upset?

“When I’m angry, I blow up. Punch things. Swear. That kind of thing. I don’t really get stressed, to be honest. And my ‘upset’ equates to my ‘angry’. No room for sadness here.”

49)   Would you consider yourself to be a good person, bad person, or morally grey?

“Chaotic good, maybe? Just because I’m rough doesn’t make me a bad person. I don’t know if I necessarily qualify as a ‘good person’ either. Morally grey, I guess.”

50)   Does this OC have any part of you in them? (I.e, personality traits, similar background, etc)

((OOC: Hahahaha. Aurora is probably one of the most opposite characters of my own personality that I play. We both don’t take bulls**t, and can be a bit confrontational, but she’s way more extreme than me. We both have great eyebrows though.))

Health

51) Have you ever been seriously injured?

“Surprisingly not. Some scratches and bruises from fights, but I’ve never broken a bone or anything.”

52) Any allergies?

“I’m severely allergic to bulls**t. Other than that, I’m allergic to nothing.”

53) Do you get sick often?

“Whenever I started coughing or sniffling as a kid, Mom used to give me this godawful herbal concoction. I think that disgusted my body into never being sick again. I had perfect attendance at school.”

54) Do you need to take medicine for anything?

“Luckily not. A few of my friends were on the pill for their sex lives or cramps or some s**t, but I was never one of them.”

55) Are you a hypochondriac?

“That’s a negative.”

56) Do you even like going to the doctors?

“Seriously, Samson? This s**t is on my file? No, I very rarely went to an actual doctor, so it isn’t something particularly dear to me.”

57) Do you brush off injuries or seek help?

“I brush them off. I’m tough, and I don’t want people worrying about me. That’s just how I’m built.”

58) Do you know first aid?

“Nope. If I’m your last chance, you’re f**ked, I’m afraid.”

59) Do you have health insurance? If so, how good is it?

“Didn’t really read the fine print, but I’m sure the crew has some kind of insurance. Not that we have to pay for any kind of treatment while we’re up here. It’s free real estate.”

60) Have you ever harmed yourself?

“No, Samson.”

Favourites

61) Favourite animal? Why?

“The honey badger, because it doesn’t give a s**t. Ravens are cool too.”

62) Favourite type of music? Why?

“Kelly Clarkson is a goddess, and all of her songs are cool, punchy ballads for cool, punchy chicks.”

63) Favourite place? Why?

“My bed. It beckons me into the sweet, sweet abyss of sleep, where I am free to do whatever I want.”

64) Favourite food or drink? Why?

“Matt’s mom used to make the best strawberry cheesecake. I’d sell a kidney to taste it again.”

65) Favourite type of clothing? Why?

“Knuckledusters, because they get the job done. Other than that, I like hoodies. They... make me feel safe.”

66) Favourite time of day? Why?

“3AM, when I am deep in the clutches of sleep. I don’t know. I don’t really have a favourite time. Things like that don’t matter to me.”

67) Favourite season? Why?

“Winter, when the outside world is as cold and grey as my soul. Plus you can live in your hoodie and people won’t give you weird looks for wearing a hoodie because it’s hot.”

68) Favourite story, be it from a book or something like a myth or fable? Why?

“I don’t like fairy tales. They’re unrealistic and make people act like idiots in the hopes of finding their ‘happily ever after’. That s**t doesn’t exist for everyone. I like stories where people get their comeuppance.”

69) Favourite thing to learn? Why?

“A bit of everything, I guess? I might not like people, but I like learning about them. I’m observant. I pick up on a lot. I like learning curse words in foreign languages too.”

70) Favourite scent? Why?

“Rose water and bad quality incense. It smells like home.”

World

71) Do you live on Earth or somewhere else?

“I lived on Earth. Now I have no real home except for a big metal spaceship.”

72) What time period do you live in? 

“Last I checked, it was 2038. Unless something got f**ked up along the way.”

73) Anything special about your world?

“The fact that it’s a spaceship is special enough, yeah?”

74) What are your world leaders like?

“I, for one, support our AI overlord, Samson.”

75) What is the state of your world like?

“Structured. Orderly. Routined. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

76) Do you wonder about your place in the world?

“No. I’m hardly the philosophical type. I’m more of an ‘in the now’ kind of girl.”

77) Is your world in contact with other worlds?

“Does Earth count as an ‘other world’ now that we’re not a part of it? If so, yes. If not, then no. No green squigglies have tried to probe us yet.”

78) What area of your world do you live in? 

“I live in the f**king Amazon Rainforest. No, Samson, I know we’re in space - it’s a f**king analogy. My room is super f**king humid because my roommate is growing her own plants. Doesn’t she have a whole farm lab for that? Christ.”

79) What is the wildlife like?

“By ‘wildlife’ I’m assuming you mean ‘men’. They’re big and lumbering. Or they drink. Nothing new.”

80) Do you have a religion or belief in a higher being?

“I’ve never believed in a higher being. Too much s**t happens in life for it to be part of some grand plan.”

Skills

81) Do you know how to fight?

“F**k yes. Please tell me there’s a demonstration needed.”

82) Can you drive? 

“Nope. Mom and I could never afford a car or anything like that. I used to walk everywhere.”

83) Can you swim?

“Yeah. We had swimming at school. I hated it.”

84) Are you handy?

“Relatively so. I’ve had to do a few DIY fix jobs in my life.”

85) How quickly can you learn something new?

“I taught myself everything I could about the stars and interstellar navigation in less than a year. So, pretty f**king quickly, I’d say.”

86) Can you speak more than one language?

“Fluently, no. But I can hold a basic conversation in Spanish. Gracias, Nathaniel.”

87) Can you read and write?

“I, indeed, can.”

88) Do you have any survival skills?

“Survival like camping? F**k no. Survival as in protecting myself on the streets? F**k yes. I’m pretty good at self-defense.”

89) Can you cook?

“A few basics. I used to make lunch for myself a lot. It wasn’t anything special though.”

90) Any unusual or unique skills? 

“Did I mention previously that I’m slightly psychic? Because that’s unique. I have way too many premonitory dreams for it to be a coincidence.”

Other II

91) Do you believe in destiny and fate? Do you think it can’t be changed?

“There’s no such thing as fate. It’s an excuse people use to be lazy, or to explain away s**tty things. Situations can always be changed if you get your ass into gear.”

92) Do you have any regrets?

“No use crying over spilled milk, hey Samson? I am who I am. I’ve done what I’ve done. No regrets.”

93) What do you fear the most?

“Letting my friends down.”

94) Do you believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? That love never dies?

“None of the above. There’s no such thing as ‘true love’. People waste way too much time and energy deluding themselves otherwise.”

95) Can you play an instrument?

“Nope, I have next to no musical talent.”

96) How messy is your room?

“I’d prefer it to be tidy, but apparently my f**king roommate has already decided otherwise. There’s nature junk everywhere.”

97) Can you dance?

“Yes. Take that secret to your grave, Samson.”

98) Do you like to meet new people? Do you like people in general?

“No, and no. I’m not what you’d call a people person. Being frozen for ten years hasn’t changed that.”

99) Are you hopeful for the future?

“I suppose? I’m not getting my hopes up or anything, but, I mean, this mission has to succeed..... right?

100) Why did you make this OC and maybe even the world they live in? Just cause? Or for some other reason?

((OOC: Aurora is one of my most refreshing characters, simply because she is just absolutely 100% unapologetically herself. She’s always been quietly self-sacrificing - so what better position to put her in than in space, where she could quite literally sacrifice her life for her friends? She’s a lot deeper than you think. I look forward to sharing her with everyone.))

[yeonchi]

2020 In Review

It’s that time of the year again. At the end of every year, I write a post to sum up what I did this year and share my (controversial) opinions of the year’s current affairs. However, because I had so much to say for the latter, I’ve moved it to the Red Pill Year post - as obvious from the title, I’ve become red-pilled on quite a few things this year.

Things have been very different due to the coronavirus; while my transition into society has been forced to slow drastically, I did manage to achieve quite a lot over the six months in lockdown (from late-March to October). The lockdown has given me a good excuse to be a NEET and do all the things I want to do because I actually become a productive member of society.

Before I go into detail over various aspects, let’s start off this review with a list of...

What I did during lockdown

Finished my uni degree (I only had one subject left at that point and it was a beginner’s course to Cisco networking)

Reposted my reviews of the Sea Princesses animated series (which I completed last year)

Did some analysis on how Kamen Riders are not weapons

Played Warriors Orochi Z

Did a little reminiscence post on Kingdom of Paradise

Played Dynasty Warriors 8 and collected every 5 and 6 star weapons for each character

Launched Kisekae Insights as a soft reboot of the Yui Hirasawa Kisekae Project

Made a Change My Mind post about freedom of speech, censorship and cancel culture

Translated and reviewed the ten Princesas do Mar books, with the blessings of the author, Fabio Yabu

Played a bit of Dynasty Warriors Multi Raid 2 and 6 Special, no posts made for those games

Kept working on my personal project for a bit before putting it on hold

Checked and rewrote every story in my personal project (it’s still not finished yet)

Looking back at the year

Doctor Who

In case you haven’t read about it already, I decided to take the red pill on this series after watching The Timeless Children. Check out the hiatusbreaker update for some post-review thoughts that I made months after the end of Series 12.

Of course, I’ll be reviewing the New Year’s Special, Revolution of the Daleks, and Series 13 when it premieres late 2021. Be sure to check out my review of the New Year’s Special when it comes out the day after New Year’s Day.

Sea Princesses

For the third year in a row, I’ve done something significant for Sea Princesses. in 2018, I collected the English episodes as they were posted on YouTube. In 2019, I worked on the episode plots and transcripts for the wiki while also downloading the Amazon raws and collecting the remaining episodes that weren’t posted on YouTube (because the Mr Bean and Friends channel has finally given up after years of shitty marathon streams). In 2020, I brought the ten Princesas do Mar books and translated them into English.

When I emailed the author, Fabio Yabu, at the end of April to tell him of my intentions to translate the books, I didn’t get a reply from him until the middle of July. By that point, I had already brought the books from Pure Brazil (on Amazon) and I had finished scanning most of the books. In reflection, if I had known that he would offer to send me his manuscripts, I would have emailed him last year and not a week before I decided to buy the books. However, what’s done is done and at the very least, I’m probably the only person in Australia to actually have the books.

My original plan was to buy the books when I had gotten a job and saved up some money from each paycheck until I got the amount I needed. Looking back, I think it was a stupid idea and I’m glad I decided to cave. Considering the time it took me to scan and translate the books being unemployed and under lockdown, who knows how long it would have taken if I were studying or working full-time.

It’s funny how I’ve tried to spread the word about my efforts to revive the series and yet, I ended up doing all the work. Maybe it was because very few people cared as much about the series as I did, or maybe I didn’t make an effort to promote it enough because I was quite reserved about reaching out on platforms other than Facebook or Tumblr. This whole experience has taught me that in the end, if you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

In addition to this, I’ve also reposted my reviews of the cartoon series that I did in 2019. You can find all the reviews on this page. On top of that, I wrote three instalments on the series’ involvement in my personal project for Kisekae Insights. All in all, they made up the bulk of content that I posted during the lockdown.

Just as a note, only the English, Brazilian Portuguese and Castilian Spanish dubs have both seasons online in full, whether on YouTube, Amazon Prime or my cloud drive. As for the Latin American Spanish dubs, only the first season is available and I know someone at Southern Star is screwing with us because I have evidence that the second season was broadcast in that region as well. While this channel doesn’t have all the episodes and the videos were filmed with a camera in front of a television in not even 360p quality, it’s probably the only place where that version of the series is available. The second season wasn’t even released on DVD, which complicates things even more, but hey, that’s what happens when a series goes lost and forgotten for a decade.

Yabu has published translated versions of the first four literacy series books on Amazon Kindle and is planning on publishing translated versions of the main series books. As for the main series books on Kindle, there are errors in two of the books. In A Shadow in the Water, there’s two chunks of text missing at the start of Chapter 10, namely the Turtle King’s call to Miss Marla, so that the Turtle King says, “Hello! It’s cancelled!” before Leia gets off the bus and goes to the whale without any context as to how it got there. In The Windy Letters, there was a line missing at the end of Chapter 12 (13 in the Kindle version) saying that Tubarina passed out as she was leaving the cave. I was going to mention this in the epilogue for the book reviews, but I decided to cut it because I thought that Yabu would fix it. Sure enough, the second error was fixed (albeit haphazardly), but the first error hasn’t, and it’s been three months since I pointed it out to him. In hindsight, I’m kind of glad that I have the physical books because I wouldn’t have known about this if I just had the Kindle books.

I didn’t promote this until now because it’s not that important, but the literacy series books (with the exception of Turtles in Danger, I don’t know why distribution rights are all over the place) are available on Ubook in both ebook and audiobook formats. Interestingly, some of the narrators listed on the audiobooks include Eduardo Drummond, Ana Elena Bittencourt and Jullie, who are known for voicing Marcello, Tata and Leia on the Portuguese version of the cartoon. I can likely deduce from this that they managed to get some of the original cast back to do the audiobooks. This is yet another reminder that the series receives more love in Brazil than it does in Australia. I can bet that if the series were to receive English audiobooks, then whoever’s making them won’t bother to find the old cast. I won’t hold it against them if they don’t, but I’ll give them props if they do, even if they just get Paige Walker back as Tubarina.

If anyone wants to know about the production of the series, a few guys did a study on the Brazilian animation industry and Flamma Films, one of the producers of Sea Princesses, is covered in section 3.1. There is nothing special to be gleaned from it that I haven’t known or deduced already; the series is still decent even though there were places where it was screwed over. Although, it’s a shame that this series was never picked up by anyone who could have done better than Southern Star or that Yabu left Flamma in 2009 because I think there was more potential in both him and Sea Princesses. But hey, that’s just my opinion. I might cover the production history on the wiki someday.

With this, all canon material for Sea Princesses has been covered. I will still work on the wiki and moderate the content on there as admin, it’s just that it won’t be as groundbreaking as it was for the past three years. I’ve done all I can for the series and regardless of the reception it has or will receive, it’s time for me to move on.

Kisekae Insights

During the lockdown, I decided to launch Kisekae Insights as a means of sharing my personal project outside of my circle of friends. It also served as a reboot of the Yui Hirasawa Kisekae Project that I attempted to launch in 2015 before abandoning it due to commitments.

At the moment, I’m taking a break from this series to focus on other things, but in 6 months, I managed to make 16 instalments of this series centred around various aspects of my personal project. I don’t know when I might decide to start making instalments again, let alone if, so if you’ve been closely following the series, be prepared for the possibility that the series will stop at any point. I still have a portion of the project I want to write before finishing up, so I want to focus on that first along with revising older portions of the project.

Censorship

This was a topic that I wanted to cover in the Red Pill Year post, but I decided to move it to here because I wanted to get that post published before focusing on this one.

I’ve been on social media for 10 years now and over that time, I’ve seen many cases of censorship (not just on both sides of the political spectrum, but on many other spectrums) and been a victim of it myself. There have been so many different types of censorship that I’ve found it difficult to generalise into a single category until now.

When Donald Trump announced that he wanted Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act revoked because his tweets got fact-checked, I was almost onboard with him until someone who owns a (controversial) website I browse regularly pointed out that he would have to shut down his website because of the potential lawsuits that would be filed against him. The sad thing about this is that Joe Biden is looking to revoke 230 as well and no major website is making an uproar about this, given that they were so vocal about things like SOPA/PIPA, Article 13 and net neutrality in the past. I swear, this site is the only site I’ve seen that is actually talking about this.

Basically, the main gist of Section 230, or “the twenty-six words that created the internet”, are as follows: “No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.” In other words, websites can’t be held responsible for content posted by users of that website, including posts, comments or videos, and thus they can’t be sued for it. Without 230, websites (particularly big websites and social media websites based in the US) would have more incentive to censor as they would be liable for that content; even with the amount of money the big companies have, they can only fight so many lawsuits before their money runs out, and that’s even if they want to bother doing that in the first place.

Social media sites define what seems to be clear rules for the use of their sites, but lately it seems that they keep moving the goalposts on content that touches the line at best while content that outright breaks the rules (like gore and child porn) remains hiding in the shadows or isn’t deemed a problem when reported. Their moderation systems are heavily reliant on AI with little, if any, human guidance, which basically means that their rationale for censorship is based on reports from, in order, corporations and IP owners, left-wing (SJW) biases and people who cry hard enough (en masse) to get something taken down.

Copyright takedowns are also a form of censorship because it’s mostly corporations being absolute Jews with their content. This is a problem with people who post content with copyrighted material because they run the risk of having the material taken down or demonetised, particularly in the case of content creators who use YouTube as their main source of income. The lines of copyright have been so blurred over the years that many people don’t care about it beyond crediting the original creators or not. At this point, it’s practically common knowledge that corporations are still stubborn over copyright even though they have other sources of revenue, not to mention the way they exploit their assets (franchises, celebrities and so forth).

In summary, political bias is a problem when it comes to censorship, but corporate bias and people gaming the system are just as much of a problem. The political biases of social media can seem like they flip-flop between two sides, but that’s what happens when you let AI do your work for you.

Who remembers the Tumblr NSFW ban of December 2018? I honestly can’t believe I’m saying this, but Pornhub has just gone through a similar purge, now only allowing official partners and verified creators to post because of rape, trafficking and child porn. You know what the common element between the two purges is? It’s burning down a large part of the orchard just because of a few rotten trees. A lot of perfectly legal content has been caught up in the crossfire because Tumblr and Pornhub are a bunch of pussies who are too lazy or afraid to have people go through and delete illegal content like child porn. Is anyone getting a feeling of déjà vu here? However, the situation with Pornhub is more financially motivated because their payment networks, namely Visa and Mastercard, terminated their services with them. I’ll get back to them in a bit.

Going on a bit of a tangent, YouTube has blocked all age-restricted videos from being played on other sites in their embedded player, meaning that users have to go onto their site and log into their account in order to watch those videos. That’s just great. How am I supposed to watch old Chris-chan videos now without having it appear in my internet history or even my Google account history?

Conservatives believe that the amount of censorship that is happening on social media sites is making them look like publishers instead of platforms. Sadly, I agree with this, but the even sadder thing is that Section 230 makes no distinction to such nor mentions “platforms” in any context. Therefore, I don’t believe that Section 230 should be revoked, but I do believe that there should be a reform in order to cover things like platforms, publishers and recourse for people who have been deplatformed. The Communications Decency Act was first passed in 1995; at that time, the internet was in its infancy, but in 2020, it has expanded to levels that people would never have imagined back then. Of course, the government shouldn’t be the only party to do something about censorship; social media sites and their uses have responsibility in this as well.

“bUt PRiVaTe CompanIES cAN dO whaTEveR THey WaNt, ThEy aREN't oblIgeD tO HOsT yOUR CoNTEnt” No. Anyone who still unironically believes this in current year, after all the government and corporate bullshit that has affected and threatened the integrity of the internet, can go fuck themselves. What about all the people who have been unfairly deplatfomed in recent years despite not doing anything illegal? What about #StopTheLeftPurge? I and many other people knew that the karma of censorship would somehow hit back on people eventually, so nobody should be defending any website for the actions they take to censor people. I’m all for getting scammers and people peddling illegal content off of social media, but we’re at the point where people are being deplatformed for things like copyright, wrongthink and criticism “as harassment” and innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire. My attitude to the current state of censorship on the internet is pretty much the same as my attitude to the police: How can we trust social media sites to moderate their users and content if they keep moving the goalposts, being vague about their justifications and believing victims practically all the time?

Here are some suggestions for how I would reform censorship.

Define large social media networks as public platforms: Despite all the alternatives that have sprung up, such as Gab, Parler, MeWe, Rumble, BitChute or the like, very few social media sites will have the potential to become the new Facebook, Twitter or YouTube, which has become so ubiquitous in our society. The alternatives may be good in their own ways, but the main reason why people are moving to them is because the mainstream sites have deemed their content or presences unwelcome. We’re talking about companies the size of supermarket or fast food chains compared to small businesses or businesses with a few branches in less than a few states. I realise that defining Facebook, Twitter or YouTube as “platforms” alone won’t do anything to reform censorship, so I should note that the next few suggestions should be just as important as this one.

Lessen punishments for people who post copyrighted content: Let’s face it, deplatforming YouTube channels after three copyright strikes is unfair considering that this is a fairly minor offence and the lines of copyright and fair use have been severely blurred over the past decade. If the content is from TV or something, then the most that should happen is that the video is removed or the ad revenue goes to the copyright owners, but if a channel is outright impersonating and/or plagiarising (original) content from another channel, that’s a different story.

Allow opportunities for discourse and appeals: When I was postblocked on Facebook thanks to some gaijin bitch who was too butthurt to take or respond to my criticisms of him, there was no way for me to appeal his reports of my content or the postblocks that resulted from them. When I tried to post something, a window would pop up saying that I was postblocked and there would be a button saying something like “Something’s Wrong”, but even after I clicked on it, nothing ever resulted from it. I would have been postblocked for 30 days or even deplatformed if he didn’t agree to rescind his reports after I called him out on his bullshit again. I’ve also heard of other cases where people’s appeals don’t seem to do anything or only make the problem worse.

Prevent abuse of DMCAs and reporting systems: Adding onto my previous point, there needs to be a way for people to say “these people are trying to get me deplatformed even though I did nothing wrong”. On one hand, I think there should be a limit on how many times people can report a particular page per week, while on the other hand, people need to be told to grow a spine and stop being crybabies over content that they shouldn’t be affected by (in most cases). In regards to DMCAs, I’ve found that some people abuse the system to get any criticisms of them taken down. Criticism is covered under fair use, but there needs to be a distinction between creative content and things that people say on social media.

Rely less on AI moderation and more on human moderation: During the Tumblr NSFW ban, they decided to ban “female-presenting nipples” except in contexts such as breastfeeding or surgery. However, the AI they used caught male nipples and female nipples that fit the exceptions for that ban. Social media relies too much on AI for the moderation of their content because they don’t want to expose human moderators to that stuff, even though that is technically part of their job. The content bots on YouTube make this worse with things like ContentID, COPPA or even the automatic detection of age-restricted videos. I’m convinced that AI alone cannot moderate content fairly; there should be another level of moderation where humans judge the moderation of the AI. For the past year, I’ve been doing a work-from-home thing where I assess Google search queries to see which results satisfy the needs of the user making the search. Having something like that for Facebook, Tumblr, YouTube and the like would be good, but the only problem is ensuring that they have a diverse range of political standings and interests in the moderator pool.

Finally, there are a few things I would like to clarify. Firstly, when I say “censor”, I don’t mean putting content warnings on things (in fact I’m all for them because some people might not like certain types of content), but I mean outright deleting them and/or punishing the users for posting them. Secondly, when it comes to NSFW content, I believe that “either all of it is okay or none of it is okay”, particularly when AI moderation can’t tell things apart most of the time. Thirdly, I make exceptions when it comes to things like rape, trafficking and child porn because they are exploitative and non-consensual. Fourthly, I believe that fan art and artworks, including hentai and Rule 34 (while contentious at times), should be treated differently to real life and live-action because while it is a subjective debate, there are generally no victims in the former.

Of course, those are just some of my suggestions for reforming censorship; there may be some that I haven’t brought up. My point is that knee-jerk reactions can end up hurting more people than they benefit.

There was another suggestion brought up by the owner of the website I mentioned earlier. He believes that the solution to fixing censorship is to make banks and payment networks like utilities (gas, electricity, phone, internet), meaning that they can’t blacklist anyone unless they have actually been convicted of financial crime (or sanctioned by other countries). When I first read it, I couldn’t figure out how to connect the two, but now that I know the circumstances behind the Pornhub purge, I realise that all these companies really care about isn’t just money, but whether they can be paid by conventional means. Small sites can afford to use alternate means such as cryptocurrency, but big sites have to cater to the mainstream. There’s a difference between being banned from a business because you’re being belligerent and being banned from a business because you’re a controversial figure who has said some controversial stuff online, particularly in the past. I’d also suggest that social media be considered an utility as well, but compared to the examples I’ve given, it’s pretty much a non-essential service.

In my first suggestion, I named some alternative social media platforms that people have been using in recent years. I don’t really intend to sign up for those platforms because a) I don’t post contentious stuff all the time and even when I do, it either follows the community guidelines or flies under the radar (with the exception of petty snitches and bitches) and b) I don’t have a strong enough fanbase nor do I have enough fans who are willing to follow me to wherever I decide to migrate to. After cutting off other social media platforms like Twitter or Pinterest due to lack of use, the only platforms I have left are Facebook and Tumblr. Various factors have kept me from posting as often as I have done in the past; I’m struggling to find enough things to post per month just for the sake of it.

Even if you follow the rules, you should still be worried about censorship, because before you know it, you might be the next one on the chopping block.

Political correctness

I’ve been as tolerant as I can be about changing the way we say or do things because of political correctness, but some of the changes I’ve seen, particularly in the past year in response to Black Lives Matter, has me questioning why. I mean, yes, of course the answer is about racism, but my main question with it is that if people had a problem with something, why didn’t they say something earlier? Why did it take the death of a black drug user who was arrested for using counterfeit bills for people to do something instead of all the other black people whose deaths led to similar protests in the past? Why didn’t black people say anything when they began to be treated fairly following the Civil Rights Movement?

Some people have said that removing monuments and memorials of figures related to Confederacy or slavery is destroying or censoring history. I think that a better idea would be to keep them, but teach people why those figures should or should not be revered.

As for casting changes, it seems that the trend is to have characters of marginalised demographics being portrayed by people from those demographics; black characters being portrayed by black actors, transgender characters being portrayed by transgender actors and autistic characters being portrayed by autistic actors. On one hand, I can kind of understand, particularly when it comes to live-action works, but on the other hand, they’re just actors and it’s in their profession to portray different characters as the job requires. In animation, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell who’s the voice behind the character if you don’t bother researching the actors in the credits. I get the idea of diversity and casting the right person based on talent, but sometimes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I don’t understand the motivation behind political correctness sometimes. Either that or I just don’t like things changing so drastically (when there’s very little problem with it in the first place).

On another note, check out my Red Pill Year post to see why I prefer to use the term “coronavirus” over “COVID-19″.

Cancel culture

I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again. Cancel culture is just people overreacting to things people did, particularly in the past which nobody should be caring about anymore. This then leads to censorship and arguments about political correctness.

Personally, cancel culture should be more like iDubbbz’s Content Cops; someone does an exposé on a problematic figure, they get a chance to respond and the rest of us either accept their response or mock them for their shit response or lack thereof. Such a shame that iDubbbz has fallen so low after the RiceGum Content Cop though...

In any case, people need to learn how to think critically and stop being so petty over trivial things. Also, getting someone fired just for something they said or did outside of their workplace is just as petty. People need to learn to separate the internet from real life and about what professionalism is.

Other miscellaneous stuff

A few more things before I finish up.

Between publishing the Red Pill Year post and this one, some mutant strains of the coronavirus, originating in the UK and South Africa, have begun spreading all over the world along with some new cases and clusters in Australia. Hopefully we’ll be able to contain these new cases like we did with all the other ones, but some blame still needs to be put on governments for allowing the pandemic to get this far and people for not following social distancing guidelines.

I decided to randomly search my Tumblr blog in the Wayback Archive recently. There’s not a lot of stuff there, but one thing that alarmed me was that two posts from 2017, namely my Content Cop parody and my rant about Facebook pages, were archived more than 20 times. I don’t know who initiated it or whatever, but if it is who I think it is, then I would have thought that archiving the post forever would be the last thing they wanted.

In a way, I’ve begun to understand why the right tends to say “All Lives Matter” in response to “Black Lives Matter”. They think we already live in an utopia where racism is all but eradicated, so they think that the movement is merely attention seeking, virtue signalling and so on. Would we be complaining if there wasn’t any injustice in our society? The same question could be said for Hong Kong and any other place where there is injustice.

Over the past few years, I’ve come to realise that corporations are not our friends. If my time writing English dub rants has taught me anything, it’s that corporations rarely listen to their customers; the only reason why shills and cucks support anything corporations do is because their interests happen to align with whatever they’re doing. It’s the same logic as corporations supporting Black Lives Matter. The main objective of a company isn’t to virtue signal because they have very little or no place to do so. They should just give us customers what we want, take our money and fuck off.

And if you thought that last line sounded familiar, that’s because it’s from Ricky Gervais’ monologue at the 2020 Golden Globes in January. How good was that? Anyone who disagrees with what he said is, knowingly or unknowingly, defending the kind of culture he is criticising.

Lockdowns aside, the time has come for me to resume my transition into society, but not without precautions. Of course, I’ll still be around, but I’ll probably be posting less in 2021 compared to 2020, not that it really matters anyway.

Before I go, I’d like to leave you with some final words.

Black lives matter and Hongkonger lives matter.

All cops are bastards.

Corporations are not your friends, even if they make something you like.

Stay safe, practice social distancing and wear a face mask when going out.

願榮光歸香港 (May glory return to Hong Kong.)

Happy New Year everyone. I wish you peace as we move from a very turbulent 2020 to what could possibly be an even more turbulent 2021.

[lozenger8]

They All Disappear From View (I Only Have Eyes For You)

This is a Halloween themed (but not at all spooky) Scott/Stiles ficlet for @scottstiles because Divvy is truly wonderful. Thanks to @skittlestrash for prompt suggestions!

“We never got to go to prom,” Stiles says one day, late in September.

It’s true. They’d been all set, had everything planned, and then an omega werewolf had come crashing into Scott’s world half an hour before they were supposed to arrive at the Beacon Hills gym.

Scott doesn’t understand why Stiles is bringing it up over a year later via FaceTime.

“No,” he says, cautious like he’s learned to be, where Stiles is concerned. “We didn’t.”

“There’s this party planned for Halloween,” Stiles continues, either not noticing or ignoring Scott’s hesitation. “And I thought you might wanna leave California during the time of ghastly ghouls, given, you know, our vast and horrible history with them.”

“You want me to fly thousands of miles cross-country to spend Halloween  with you?” Scott asks. He waits a beat, two. “I’m there.”

Stiles smiles and it’s beautiful. Scott feels his heart physically skip a beat. “Great!” he says, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone, which is… Scott’s not sure he’s ever heard that before. Not even when they were nine. “Got any ideas for costumes?”

No. No he hasn’t. He hasn’t had to think of a Halloween costume since he was twelve. They didn’t bother in their teens, first because no one ever invited them anywhere, and second because they were too busy combatting the scary creatures of the night.

“Maybe I could just wolf out?”

“Y’boring.”

“What’s your brilliant idea, then?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll get back to you.”

They spend the rest of the video call talking about their pack and their studies and there’s a reason this is Scott’s favorite day of the week. Talking to Stiles revitalizes and soothes him. He can tell, by how Stiles’ breathing changes, how he settles on his bed, that the same’s true for Stiles.

*

Over the next week, Scott gets messages every day from Stiles, filled with links to low-cost or low-effort costumes. They’re never both. Scott saves links for the ones he might be capable of and discards the ones he’s pretty sure Stiles sent as a joke: sexy vampire, sexy vet, sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. He starts sending Stiles his own suggestions: sexy werewolf, sexy FBI agent, sexy Finn from Adventure Time (that last one is just upsetting, but so was the TMNT.)  

“Most people I know made or chose their costumes in February,” Stiles whines, two weeks later.

“Most people you know are freaks and you know I include myself in that category,” Scott says, raising his eyebrow. “What about themed costumes, like I’ll be an egg and you’ll be bacon. Or you’ll be a jar of peanut butter and I’ll be a block of chocolate. Or, hey! I’ll finally be the Robin to your Batman.”

“You want us to wear couples costumes.” Stiles says, voice flat.

“You hate it.”

“No. I don’t. I’m surprised. I kinda love the idea. How do you feel about attaching cinnamon rolls to the sides of your head?”

“I don’t want to be Queen Layla.”

“You deliberately fucked that up, because you’re pure, unadulterated evil. But okay, I’ll think some more. Talk soon.”

*

Before he’s even aware of it, it’s nearly time for Scott to fly to DC. In between classes, pack meetings, college lacrosse and his part-time job, the weeks soar by. And he and Stiles are still costumeless. Scott’s about two sleepless nights away from suggesting they go as Adam and Steve in the garden of Eden. When he does suggest it, at the end of his tether, he starts a joint six minute rendition of In a Gadda Da Vida with air guitar, tabletop drumming and fake organ-playing.

“I didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist,” Stiles says after a long, showy drink of water.

“I’m not.”

“As a last resort, we’ll go as each other, down to every last detail. I’m talking underpinnings too, Scotty.”

“No one knows me and we wear practically the same clothes anyway,” Scott points out, more stressed out than he’d care to admit.

“Honestly?” Stiles says, staring into the camera like he’s staring into Scott’s soul. “The costumes are immaterial. Having you here is more important to me.”

Scott wants to reach out and touch him. Hold his hand and draw him close. He settles for softly smiling. “Same, dude.”

*

The airport is a bustle of activity and Scott’s feeling queasy from the flight, exhausted because he had a paper due yesterday and had to pull another all-nighter, and so anxious to see Stiles he thinks he’s going to burst.

When Scott finally sees Stiles, pressing through a throng of bodies, the blood in his veins stops pulsing for a moment and his spine tingles.

Stiles is pale and his heart’s rocketing a mile a minute. He looks around for a second before sprinting up to Scott and launching himself at him. Scott wraps him up in a tight hug and sways him from side-to-side.

“Hi,” Stiles whispers. He pulls away an inch, stares into Scott’s eyes. He’s beautiful over FaceTime, but he’s mesmerizing here. “Good flight?”

“Horrendous. Atrocious. Fucking appalling. But it got me here, so it was totally worth it.”

“You brought your potty-mouth with you. I like it,” Stiles says. Neither of them have moved further apart. Not yet.

“I thought you preferred my pure and sweet mouth?”

Stiles’ gaze focuses on Scott’s lips and the hollows of his cheeks go deep, bright pink. “I like them both to equal degrees.”

Scott’s about to run with that, to take the chance he’s been thinking about since a week after Christmas, a week after the last time he and Stiles were in the same space, but Stiles takes his backpack and marches them toward an airport shuffle bus, chattering all the way about the friends he’s going to introduce to Scott.

*

In Stiles’ room there are large rectangles of cardboard, acrylic paints, sharpies, and tubes of glitter glue all stacked up against one side. Stiles places Scott’s bag on one of the beds, mutters something about his roomie staying with his boyfriend.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The party’s at 9 and I thought maybe we could make FaceTime frames around ourselves, sort of a meta commentary thing.”

“That’s probably the cutest idea you’ve had in your entire life.”

“It wasn’t mine. Mason suggested it.”

Scott laughs, bumps into Stiles. “Of course. Are you gonna offer me a drink and something to eat or is it straight-up nose to the grindstone?”

Stiles glances at the cardboard, back at Scott, at the cardboard again, shrugs. “It can wait another hour. Party technically starts at 9, so we both know it won’t be worthwhile until at least 10:30.”

They grab sodas, fries and burgers from Five Guys to take back to Stiles’ room, sit cross-legged opposite each other on Stiles’ bed. They talk about everything and nothing and it’s nice, hearing the cadence of Stiles’ voice without distortion. Being able to see his myriad expressions without lag.

After they’re finished eating, Scott rests his hand on his belly and slumps against the wall, drifts into a warm and safe mindset. Stiles mirrors him. They talk about movies they’ve seen and all the things they haven’t gotten to watch yet. Eventually they lie down next to each other, Scott with his eyes closed, listening to the metronomic precision of Stiles’ heart.

“You don’t wanna go to this party, do you?” Stiles asks, when it’s gotten dark outside and Scott’s half-dozing.

“It’d mean I’d have to share you again,” Scott confesses, taking Stiles’ hand in his own and resting it on his chest. Stiles’ skin feels so good against his, warm and smooth. Scott loves the weight and security he feels from the simple touch.

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound very appealing, no.”

“Why did you wanna go?”

Stiles sighs, starts stroking fingers through Scott’s hair with his free hand, tender and slow. “I wanted to show you off. This is Scotty, the best friend I’ve been talking about for months on end. He’s the greatest person I know.”

“Hard for them not to take that as an insult,” Scott says, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“For some of them, that’s the intention.”

Scott opens his eyes, bites his lip when he sees Stiles’ affectionate half-smile. He thinks – he’s pretty sure – how he’s been feeling isn’t one-sided. Stiles is still scratching his nails lightly against Scott’s scalp, rubbing his thumb at the center of his chest.

“You’re not too disappointed, are you?”

“Are you kidding? All I really wanted was you.”

“You got me,” Scott says, placing his hand at the back of Stiles’ head and craning up at the same time, telegraphing his intentions clearly. Stiles matches him, bending down to close the distance, until they’re almost touching lips. “So life fulfilled,” Scott finishes before claiming his kiss.

It’s sweet and tentative, a gentle exploration that fills Scott up and makes him feel whole.

They didn’t get to go to prom, and they didn’t get to go to this Halloween party, but they got to be together, and that’s all that really matters.