#i miss making prints too but i had to limit myself

[despite-everything]

sick and tired of being so fucking depressed i need to make art again

[onegirllis]

So, about the new LIS trailer

It took me some time, but forgive me for the delayed response. I had to dig myself out of the fandom grave to actually look around and notice what the hell was going on. I spent another moment pondering if I still care, and with the answer "barely," I came here to write this post.

1) For whatever reason DickNein (yes, I didn't miss the scandal, who is the nazi now?) still doesn't understand what made LIS 1 so successful. It wasn't the diversity; it wasn't the same copy-paste lines; it wasn't the murder; it wasn't the superheroes from small towns with different powers. It wasn't even the lesbians (I know, shocking!). There were merely a few elements that made LIS special: - Magical Arcadia Bay with its residents - The rewind time superpower, which was one of the best mechanics in narrative games since the genre was born - Max, Chloe, and Rachel (not necessarily in that order), and you need at least two to make it work, preferably with Chloe at least somewhere there. - the specific art style and saturated colors (butchered a bit in BTS but then going full SIMS 4 for the rest of the games) - and most importantly - the soul Sure, DontNod could get away with alteration, to no fanfare and sometimes to no success, but their experiments came from the right place. This shit ain't it.

2) For whatever reason, Chloe is now a dog. I know. I know. I understand. Listen, my fellow comrades, I know how it feels when the devs pull put shit like, "Oh, they were just friends and grew apart, but now she named her squirrel after the love of her high school life".

3) Max had plastic surgery. She also decided to be entirely anonymous so that she looked like everyone else. Every model looks the same, and I hope they will have their names spelled above them as they walk around. Otherwise, I have no idea who is who. Frankly, she looks a little bit like Steph had a lot of fun with the entire cast of Sims 4 and then had a baby.

4) On top of everything, the new Max, however, probably now goes as Maxine, is teaching her Polaroid skills at a university. Now we know we are in an alternative universe all along. I hope the tuition matches the useful photography skill set you obtain there.

5) For any other reason unknown, she can dress up as Chloe, who can be dead (see the Ultimate edition). I know Max has a long tradition of dressing up as dead people, but I hoped it would go away with her Botox and other plastic corrections. But hey, we survived Chloe dressing up as Rachel and cosplaying as her dad, too, so I guess I shouldn't even be surprised. Not that it's a low-budget movie, and they have a limited wardrobe. It's a video game, but the tradition of having a mental stroke is still strong.

6) Oh no, another murder I gotta solve! I shall use my powers. Why now? Is it another girlfriend who is into printing photos? Or is it her student? Or both? Max becoming Jefferson would be a nice twist, even if not loved among the community, but I don't think it would get anywhere that dark. It just will get stupid.

7) This is supposed to be a fanservice a little too late and on the wrong foot. I know y'all missed Max. I didn't, but I understand the hype on seeing her on the screen. Although following a teenager in Arcadia Bay was interesting, simply by the shot of nostalgia with every step, here we are following a middle-aged single art teacher (or someone who looks middle-aged to the point that they decided on fixing their face). NO ONE WANTS TO FOLLOW THEIR ART TEACHERS WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

8) The Nazi problem (well, well, well, the turntables). I know DeckNein had to do some cleanup among their staff. I hope they did, but somehow, I doubt it was done for the right purpose. Therefore, I'm uncomfortable giving them any of my money, now or ever. I know, there are worse studios. I know it's stupid, but LIS was always special, filled with this little genuine spark. It just doesn't feel right.

9) The game has the worst UI in the history of modern gaming.

10) And to finish my rant on something even worse, LIS4 is coming just before DontNod's new game, most likely to compete with it on the market. A bit sus, don't you think?

Anyway, dick move, my friends. All of it. Actually, waving dicks around in the air all along. Despite our differences, this ain't right. And God knows how much worse it could be.

[aeoneris]

for archival reasons, and because rise has officially ended, i'm coping by looking back at the past two years and thinking about the master utsushi rabbit hole. this is based on a long reply i sent to a mutual but i think it deserved to have its own post where others can read it and i can expand further on certain details. or something. i don't know. i have no idea who will read this but if you do, please enjoy...

the ballad of master utsushi.

he was there regardless.

always watching.

waiting.

i wound up getting attached to utsushi-kyokan (master/instructor utsushi), ウツハン/utsuhan (utsushi x hunter) ship, and finding his Japanese fan community late 2021, and i've been chatting with mutuals and friends i made there since. at that time, capcom had opened up pre-orders for his nui (plushie). this plush is lovingly referred to as "Unui-kun", and people love to take him around and bring him places. here's my Unui-kun in new york city lol

fans love to dress him up and make clothing and accessories for him. had i known just how attached i would become, i would not have set my Unui-kun to ship via surface mail delivery because it took about 2-3 months extra for him to arrive... ;;

but anyway, it seemed that his popularity was growing because they continued to make more merch of him. he seems to have more than any of the other characters.

many of these are limited print/pre-order only, or were from specific events like the capcom cafe features. trying to get his merchandise became crazy, because scalpers started to pick up on how badly people wanted goodies of him?!

just how popular is this guy?! what's with the character tax!!

and how did this even happen... we're playing monster hunter, not an idol game! but i think it really speaks a lot for itself how rise had such colorful characters that you could get attached to. it seems he really jives with many female and queer players, so good on capcom for that hehe. many of the japanese fans i've met are either older women, very often mothers, or gnc, which i found to be really cool. the english-speaking utsushi fans are usually the same, too. the solidarity is real...

I found out that a lot of ppl, including myself, shared a similar experience: they missed out on a majority of utsushi's flavor text in base rise bc they didn't talk to him or the other NPCs very much during village and high rank quests, and therefore didn't even think much of him until after the fact. people double-taking when going through the game again and actually catching on to his antics... I think what really got things going was when they released his DLC voice and learned about his, uh, extremely affectionate lines towards the hunter when it comes to mew mew and blowing a kiss LOL. (the "welcome back, master!" line?!?! there's so much art of him in a maid outfit... and the way he says ace/manadeshi in his sleep at the table?!?! scandalous?!?!) even for me, he got my attention only once i saw the official art of him (realizing "hey he's got a cute design actually") and eventually encountering utsushi x hunter fanart on pixiv. another thing that got me noticing him was brian david gilbert's now deleted tweet about how zac efron and utsushi are the same. thankfully, we have the internet archive to save the existence of this post and i have to make sure people experience this lost media.

once i realized how weirdly close he was to the hunter, the gears started turning

i confirmed that ppl really did notice that it was unusual for an instructor character to refer to his pupil as "manadeshi (beloved/dearest disciple)" in the manner that he does, being so close to them in a way that felt so familiar and warm. he was already popular enough that by valentine's day 2022, fans literally sent real chocolates to capcom addressed to utsushi. i knew about this for a while, but i was shook that they wound up officially addressing that this really happened during the last update video.

after they received his chocolates, they immediately got one of the (female) illustrators on board to quickly draw that really cute valentine's day art of utsushi. the japanese tweet for that artwork had even a little bit more text than the english one…

that "i'll always be watching over you" line…

(and while i'm here, i have to mention the valentine's day art we got for 2023- i made a separate post about THAT.)

we started to suspect capcom caught on to this niche community's love for utsushi, and they started to kind of... troll us??? LOL.

throughout the previews of sunbreak last year, they would start obsessively sneaking utsushi into those chibi artworks. and when npc followers were announced, people were scrambling to find out if he was going to be one of them, but there also was some weird radio silence about him for a bit...

in one of the earlier trailers that showed the elgado hub for the first time, there was a very short part of the clip where ppl could see someone standing in the distance at the corner of the screen. all the utsushi fans went nuts because they were taking a magnifying glass and zooming up at there wondering if it was really him, because everyone wanted him to be there in sunbreak LOL.

of course we'd eventually find out that would be his perch for most of the game! it was only during the final preview trailer before the release of sunbreak did they finally announce utsushi as a follower, as if they were saving the best for last. and sunbreak dropped, we got to see him in elgado and enjoy hunting with him. and it didn't end there. he wound up being featured in two of the short stories released last summer, and we would not forget this incident.

when i think about how easy it is to just play through the story and miss out on following specific out-of-the-way flavor texts, let alone know about all this outside of the game, i wonder if utsushi joining the hunter in the battle against amatsu in the penultimate battle was strange, because he has such a spotlight on him, even being the one who allows you to ride an apex which was normally impossible. if people didn't acknowledge him before, certainly people would love him now.

his final line after you defeat amatsu: it's cute and silly in english... but in japanese, his line and delivery was extremely, almost unabashedly... romantic. many people were shocked because it sounded like a fervent confession.

"I'll say it once more... You are my pride, my beloved disciple."

finally, during the last update video…

we got this line straight from the director LOL. utsushi wound up being his personal favorite character in rise, and perhaps why we wound up seeing more and more of him in sunbreak.

all in all, if you kept up with the flavor text of rise, and if you followed utsushi's dialogue throughout the base game and expansion, the emotional pay off at the end was even better! and it is a shame when this stuff is mostly optional or you have to go out of the way for it, with so much being missable with every bit of progression. but making a monhun where story and character interactions are pushed more… i think they were on to something. it's probably something that could be divisive, but personally I think they should go all in on it more in the future. Rise proved that they could make charming and memorable (not to mention, named) characters... if they lean into it more in a future entry, then i hope they do it in a way where everyone can enjoy it and not feel like they missed out. but I also hope they would make it so that people don't feel overwhelmed with flavor text... it comes down to taste, but i think i have faith that monhun can try making more character-driven stories while still keeping the core of the series in tact.

here are some more miscellaneous utsushi things that i didn't know how to fit in earlier:

he's been featured multiple times in capcom cafe entrees. here's his matcha latte dango drink:

and for the sunbreak stories: a cake based on his fight with rathalos together with the royal guard, and then a drink that represents his... uh, struggle across the ocean to chase the hunter to elgado. because they will never let him live that down. i won't either.

here's a t-shirt of utsushi and kagami you can pick up on amazon right now. kagami was a very interesting arc when he was first shown- he was introduced as a long time friend of utsushi, training together in the past, but eventually parting ways.

his seiyuu in japanese is a sentai actor who loves monster hunter, so essentially, kagami is lowkey like a self-insert for him lol. he's goofy in english because he's voiced by a certain youtuber, but in japanese he takes a different direction of silly because he has a "chuunibyou" edgelord cringe way of talking. it's such a shame that kagami wasn't really in the game itself besides being mentioned in a few mission descriptions because i would've loved to see him interact with utsushi and the hunter, and i wish the royal knights and many of the NPCs had more cutscenes or something. it makes me think, if it weren't for the pandemic, could rise's story and scenario have been something more because of the DLC voice characters like hibasa/monju/kagami? anyway, a popular headcanon is that utsushi and kagami are ex-boyfriends lol (i personally like this one and adapted it for my utsuhan fanfics). but there are even those who ship kagautsu too (although it is rare because people overseas are a little wary of shipping characters who are based on real people).

and lastly, one of my personal favorites... the diseased kyokan shirt. this is from an online capcom shop, and you can use a proxy service like fromjapan.com to order it.

if you read this all, thank you! happy hunting! with the instructor! we love that guy! the guy of all time!

[allycatcreatethings]

The Acceptance of Adulthood

Chapter 1: Old Memories 

What happened during the time with Finn with his perspective?

I missed the good old memories...

[First - Next - Chapter Index] [Word Count: 1327]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

Do you know what it’s like to grow up with hyper imagination? I knew that since I was young. It was a wonderful gift to tell stories without getting dispassionate about them. However, real life got in the way, and I had to leave that magical world behind for the night, only to return in the morning.

Some kids played with cars or dolls, but for me, it was Lego. Lego could be anything when you build and create, and you can get the best ideas out there to see them flourish and move. I played with my sets for a long while, creating a cute and delightful world without many rules. 

One time during the night, I sneaked into the basement to see what my father had constructed with his Lego sets downstairs. I felt in awe as I saw another world better than mine. There were flaws and order, but it made it much more fun! The different sets were various locations I could visit and wish to be in. I decided to dedicate myself to making the best story to enjoy and then one day tell it to the rest of the world. 

But my dad never let me play with his sets and told me to play with mine, but after playing the same thing repeatedly, I wanted more.  

I was able to create great storytelling by starting with a villain. Dad always told me not to touch the sets. But my Dad’s rules were too limiting, so he divided the world to never interact with each other again; imagine how the Lego figurines feel about this. 

[It was horrible.]

When I noticed the Lego figurines for the first time, I loved each and made some with some bricks alone, like Princess Unikitty. I wanted my old world to be where she ruled over and called it Cloud Cuckoo Land, but I knew if I wanted to improve the story, I had to eliminate my old world to create a new, better one. 

I feel like they are alive while playing with the Lego figurines. They are real people in their world, but they can’t interact or see me.

Each of their personalities was easy to make, and the narrative usually took off without me.

The Lego figurine drawn towards me the most was a construction worker. He already had a name on his printed leg piece, and his name was Emmet. There was nothing about Emmet that made him stand out from his other workers. I thought of the last name Brickowski because I thought it was clever, with the word brick in it.

But he was special to me. I put myself into the little guy, but even the worker became his own Lego person. I also did that with my Dad with Lord/President Business, but I have yet to tell him. He may not like it if I put him in the villain role.

One day during play, when Emmet fell onto the floor, I thought he was alive. I didn’t realize at first he was there; I think I stepped on him by mistake.

I think Emmet can see me. But he could move, but minimal. I guess my imagination was running wild. That was also when Dad finally saw my story and almost destroyed it. I can hear Emmet screaming for help or in pain, seeing his friend almost losing. I felt the same way; I was only a kid then. That’s what I imagined, at least. 

[But you are blind to seeing reality, Finn.]

I encountered a problem: What happens if a Lego person falls onto the floor? I can not place them back; you must cross a barrier to return them home like another world. I thought of many ways but came back to a portal. It was manageable; I had tested it and hoped it worked. That is what I believe in, like that cat poster on the wall.

To get my story back on track, I distracted my dad and saved Emmet with the lid of the Kragle. I gave him one last goodbye and placed him back into his world. I felt like I had lost a friend, and they moved away, but it has to be that way.

After that, something clicked in my Dad to change, and he allowed me to play with his sets. It felt like magic, like the special one did it. I was delighted that my story could continue until Dad told me my sister could play. Everything went into a nightmare pretty quickly as my sister threw my story off course; everything changed in my real life and reflected in the new narrative I created. Well, except Emmet. I changed, but he did not. Nothing in my power could change him, no matter how much I tried. 

Then, when my sister took his friends away, I wanted to get them back, and in the process, I lost Emmet. I had lost myself in the story.

I created the character Rex, and he felt it was me similarly, but I modified it to be more like the older me rather than a younger, naive version of my past. But I felt my anger come in, and I had enough of everything. I destroyed Bianca’s palace, but the consequence was Mom coming in and telling us to put Legos away forever, for real, this time.

I was heartbroken; my story was gone, and for the first time, I only saw my sister hurt without the narrative, and it hit me like Lego bricks crashing down. Somehow, I became a monster of my creation and didn’t know what to do. I comforted my sister, and she and I felt compelled to open the box again to rebuild the relationship. I heard the Lego figurines singing, but my sister couldn’t listen. I just thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. 

[But you listen anyway. They are just toys; why are you so attached to the plastics?]

I search for the Lego pieces for the heart and build them together again. I wanted to restart everything again with my sister and make an even better world for them!

But then, I realized I had to rescue Emmet from the true villain.

[You always need your main character. Hmm, who is the real villain?]

I picked up Wyldstyle and started to locate them. I felt horrible, but Rex had to go; I couldn’t be him anymore, so I let him disappear from the story. He was not dead; however, Vitruvius’ death was already hard to handle, and Emmet could even see his ghost occasionally. Killing a character removes the story they want to tell and the ideas they have with them.

Emmet became a monster he should not be, but I tried to let Emmet one last goodbye. Rex was an adult I never wanted to grow up as, and I had to get rid of him peacefully; that made sense in the story. 

[And yet you regret removing him from the story anyway.]

It’s been about five years since the last big adventure the Lego Figures had, but I still consider them for their story—my narrative. I had tried to grow up and learn to drive, cook, and be responsible like most adults. Why is it so hard to do sometimes?

[So tedious, so exhausting.]

I still hate the idea of adulthood. Why did you have to discard your childhood self before becoming an adult? 

[Because you are afraid of change, let go of the past.]

But things are about to change, I know it. Maybe for the better, but I hope not for the worse. After all, it’s just a story. I keep asking questions, and the answers are in play or games. I wish they were genuine and weren’t in my head. I just want my hero I can look up to, Emmet Brickowski.

[OUR HERO]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

[pbandjesse]

I am feeling a lot better. Still exhausted physically. And the cough plagues me. But my throat is not so swollen. The day did not start as nice. It took most of the day to muster up good feelings. But it didn't stop me from having a pretty good day.

I did not sleep great. I started coughing pretty bad last night. And I couldn't stop. It was kind of horrible. I had really bad fitful sleep because I couldn't stop coughing. I was eventually able to fall asleep slightly propped up. But I woke myself up a few times and that was not fun. I had a very very bizarre dream where the moon hatched like an egg and a baby came out. Very strange way to wake up this morning.

I didn't get out of bed right away. I wasn't sure if James had left yet. But once I got the alert on my phone that they did I let myself fall back asleep for a while longer.

I got up a little after 8. But I stayed in bed for a while. I was just coughing so bad and so tired.

When I got up I didn't take the meds right away. Instead I just brushed my teeth and got washed up and dressed. I felt so weak. I had asked Alexi to give me some work to do but she wouldn't have anything for a while. Which is fine! I was trying to use the limited energy I had. There was not a lot of it.

I had watermelon and crackers for breakfast. I tried to have a yogurt but it didn't taste exactly right after I took the lidocaine. The lidocaine got rid of the cough so quickly and I felt so silly for not taking it sooner. But it does mess with my taste buds really bad so everything was a little off. But eating helped and then I felt comfortable taking the steroids which would give me a couple hours of energy. Not as much as yesterday but enough.

I would hang some little things in the bedroom. Small objects. I have this lovely curio shelf mom got me with a carved cat and mouse that I've had hanging in our old bedroom but I never knew what to put on it. But I remembered we had musuem wax. So I took my tiny jewelry box that has all my special things and finally put them in display. I am thrilled how it came out.

I would also hang my pocket watched. And my tiny scissors. And a pin locket that my grandfather gave my grandmother. It has her initials on it.

I would work on fixing the holes in the blanket I made for James. No idea why the stitches are popping so much but there was actually 6 different breaks! I fixed them up really good but I was very surprised that we hadn't noticed.

I was starting to lose steam and took a little break. I took all the pins off our old canvas flag and organized them into groups. Enamel, button, brass, other. And I'm going to get a different display, maybe just a longer flag, or I'll make something myself. Unsure but it will be fun to create something new for them.

I have some really wonderful and interesting antique pins and art pins and I just want to be able to see them all nice and displayed.

I decided that I should work on moving things around downstairs so there aren't so many piles in the midddles of the rooms. Just make it a little more pleasant but I also think it will help once we start getting our new furniture in here.

I packed up the candle sticks in the boxes and I got my sewing desk more organized. I miss to the kitchen and collected the flat art and consolidated that. I moved all the chairs into the tape lines for where the couch will go. I got rid of trash and organized inside the fridge too.

But then I was very tired. I went upstairs to lay down for a while. The cough would come back and I was gagging again which was horrible. I took more lidocaine. I tried to just. Breathe.

I had a little lunch. Mac and cheese and a roll. And Alexi finally had something for me to do!

I had some more research to focus on for specialized presenters and it was fun reading through things. I couldn't do the second thing she wanted because no one ever sent me the info. But I'm hoping tomorrow I can hit the ground running with that.

I hung up the beautiful printed butterflies Jess got me in Scotland. And started working on clearing off our counters. James has been working hard but I moved some decorative items and put things away. Including the clean dishes. But I didn't know where we were keeping the spatulas and I got frustrated and dizzy tired.

The day was going okay though. I would take a lot of breaks. But I was getting stuff done and that felt good. I finally found the missing nightlight and was able to put that in our bedroom. And was feeling really positive.

James let me know that the Comcast person would be at our apartment to put the Internet lines in between 3 and 5. So around 330 I headed downstairs and started cleaning out our candy drawer while I waited for them.

A lot of our candy seemed to be sticky or not appetizing. So I threw things away and saved the few things I thought we would still use. Some chocolate and mints. And in the old candy box I was able to put in a few things that didn't have homes so it looked very neat.

While I was organizing I accidentally tore the screw out of the wall for the cutting board storage. So I would have to get an anchor to keep that sturdy.

But at 430, before I could do that, the Comcast man came in. William was super sweet. He agreed with James that they seemed to have cut the cords?? And they seemed to be deep in the crawl space behind the duct work.

James would come home not long after William came in. And was able to walks round in the basement continuing to look. But finally we decided to just let him drill through the wall and make a more accessible port.

This was incredibly loud!! I was really surprised. But we have Internet now!! It's kind of in a funny space but once we have the couch in place I have an idea for how it will look so it's all good.

James left to go to the apartment to get things and meet Brandon who was willing to help move some stuff. Thank you Brandon.

William would have me listen to a little thing about the survey we would get about his service today. And he was super nice all of course we will give him a great rating.

He left and I got to work putting things back where I had them. James had had to take down a lot of my art from the back wall so I am really glad I took a picture of how the gallery wall looked so it didn't take to long to reassemble.

I would move things around and did some stuff upstairs. James was upset over at the house that none of the furniture they tried fit in our car. But they were able to get their garment rack once it was all taken apart and a few of my wall shelves and my house shelf collection.

They, James and Brandon, would come to the house soon enough. And I was so happy to see them. James kept apologizing but it was fine! I swear the way they apologize people are going to think I beat them or something. It's fine! Well get the rest of our stuff soon.

After eveything came inside James would make me corn and a quesadilla. Which was a little salty for me, getting over being sick, but once they rinsed off the corn for me it was good.

While James was cooking I gave Brandon a little tour. He said the space is cute and he's excited to see how we develop it more.

James and Brandon would continue to hang out in the kitchen while I continued to put things away. I also hung a few things up. Specifically my key rack and my hair clip rack. I struggled with getting things leveled which was incredibly frustrating for me because I usually never need to actually use a level. I'm very good at eyeballing things. I'm chalking it up to being sick. But I was very grateful to my dad for mailing me a level a while ago. Came in clutch to night.

I passed the drill off to James who put together their garment rack. Brandon headed down the street to see a girl who lives near us. Cute. And I would do some cleaning at my desk and picked some outfits for the next few days.

I would take a like warm shower. Which wasn't ideal but actually wasn't to unpleasant. It was nice to be cozy in bed again though.

Which is where I am now. Having a little ice cream. Took more lidocaine to hopefully keep myself from coughing all night. Because I really would like to go to camp and do some work at least for a little while. I don't know if I'll make it the whole day but I want to get out of the house and try to feel normal.

I hope you all have a nice night tonight. And a beautiful day tomorrow. Sleep well everyone. Goodnight!

[violetbmuse]

Written in Telegram 10/10/2023

XX

Marla. This who I most resonate with at this point on my journey. Thanks Tyler.

If I made this statement to the entirety of random people who I've let into my life since social media's INCEPTION, what would they each think?

Eye MUSE.

Independently. In assessment. About HOW I ACTUALLY WAS.

Ya know, MY MENTAL WELL BEING.

Those who actually know who Marla is, and depending on their INNERstanding of Fight Club's Higher Esoteric layers, each would have their own take away as to whether I was mentally stable at this point.

I get that. I truly do.

STILL, do not give one 🕊️ flying fuck.

How

Does

That

Make

You

FEEL

????

That eye BEE the perceived lunatic to any who encounter me Now. I'm different. Darker.

Where did The Cosmic Mama go?!?!

👽

Will she ever return? Will this foul creature, this mad Kraken Beast goes awayyyy??

I was (still am beyond the violet rage) nicer.

What a wonderful place to be withIN my own INNER PEACE & OUTER EXISTENCE.

In ease. Not dis eased.

Two 🐝 BEE *that* aligned with Go(o)d and what is RITE for me feels incredible.

No other is supposed to get MY sacred journey with Creati9n. That is Mine, dummies. Not your biz at all, ya sea? I swim places y'all won't go cause ya won't go through the warren 🐰 of collective * personal Shadow.

That happens First. It takes a big ass mirror 🪞 to show you the realITy of the LI(f)E you live.

Wake the fuck up, Alice. 🧝

I WILL continue to create chaos and havoc in the lives of others around me as I continue to unravel the collective conditioning and its clutching tendrils, through my own shadow reckoning. I had to face the stuff I didn't wanna see, and face the consequences. The Wyrk is intense.

As eye do my deeper Wyrk, I sea and counter the spell. Brainwash mysELF back to

Divine 💙 Blue 🔵 Print

And HERe I sit, watching as the system I work my ass.off.to.get.free.from....THEY continue to co-sign and comply with. CONsent to. 🙃

I can't even pretend it isn't agonizing every damn day.

Sew.

I ain't looking to get back into your filthy beast system. I'll stay feral and repulsive. Deeply aligned with Go(o)Dness and the Mother. SHE provides.

Green paper 💵 in a materialistic world can make things like having a phone to write my musings into ...easier. So exchanging some quartz I've foraged for a little cash 💰 connects me. To y'all. Otherwise. Oh. I'd be SO Go(o)d with NO phone at this point. For a while.

But even that ain't necessary. Folks barter more and more.

🕊️ I live free. Wanna be freer every day. Don't care if you don't agree with HOW.

8 years nomadic worn, has only brought forth MORE of my own inner Morrigan. She's repulsed by stupid humanity wanting to remains tuck under the spells of evil magicians. Imprisoned.

My innocent, pure hearted self seas the highest potential always. The untainted virgin.

My holy mother who LOVES AND HOLDS THEM ALL SEW FUCKING MUCH EVERY MOMENT, WYRKING ONLY FOR A WYRLD WHERE THEY WILL BE TEULY FREE....weeps. As they all wish I'd be someone easier to manage and understand again. Miss and love y'all. 👁️

My whore self tho? Nah. Fuck all y'all bitches.

I've been it, seen it, survived it. Been fucked deep in this life. I'm hardened. And soft. Both.

Eden is real. I'm IN it. Living it. It's for you too.

Get off your asses and fight for YOURS.

THAT'S WHY THE HOLY TROUBLE MAKERS ARE HERE. What did you think angelics looked like, really? FFS. You're living in a self.imposed HELL PIT!

You're the fucking change. Where is your flaming, ragey s/word of righteous indignation being directed? Warrior?

Beating up your nearest and dearest? As you feel the undertow of the world around you that you're not doing a damn thing to change?

I PUSH ...FOR YOU To find the places where Programming and indoctrination ALSO kept me bound within a domed, limited conscious awareness.

You magnetized me to YOU. To sea where you're stuck. 🪞 That's why it seems I piss you off by simply stating a damn different opinion than your collective agreement to a program.

But it ain't just me. Others like me are everywhere. We made us. Summoned the Olde Ones who now gotta bring Holy Fyr and be means. Sew many of us are HERe now. And we pissed. You. Gotta. Become. The. Hero.

It ✨ STARts at bEarth.

Wyrd. Doctrine. BeLIEf.

Filth. Designed to make us feel LESS.

We are EQUAL IN OUR DIVINITY.

I've become someone deplorable to them, you. All.

I won't go back to being less than I am now.

Until all those who are left behind and fallen through the cracks are raised and loved. We must beCome MORE Loving, not less.

This is who I'm to be now.

For MY Soul lesson plan.

I don't know yours! I'm HERe to bring down the Roman empire. Back to complete freedom for all. Nothing less is acceptable.

Pick a team? Fuck y'all.

Trump. Q. Kennedy. Musk. Love em all, or their versions, they're amazing portals to UNRAVEL PROGRAMMING and learn INCREDIBLE discernment skills. Thank you! But I don't know nor care to know any of these MF'ers. Personally.

Nah. They're illusion. Masked persona. And thinking a materialistic based name or lineage means a thing in the spirit realm is folly. Eye dew trust fEELs tho. Slimy places tell me. Or they do GNO(t). I allow for it all to be true, while beLIEving nothing to be true out any other's mouth. I do me. I trust me.

I love who I am. This is who I reMain.

I'll come into your world. I'll visit.

But plz know, due to YOUR unresolved shadow as to why YOU CONSCIOUSLY CHOOSE TO STAY IN A BEAST SYSTEM...

and the fact YOU had to ask someone to limit their words to what makes you feel comfortable....well...that's okay. ��

I get that. You can ask.

I'll even do it, tone it down, while I'm there. Around you.

Briefly.

🔥 Til my Soul wails 🐳 from having to hold back my own contribution, not to convince, but xpress. That's all. One more equally valid, and ALSO DIVINE perspective to consider. If you feel it's *too much* for another to

...speak ...their...truth...

that's not mine, Jack. Allllll yours. I don't do that.

Everyone's perspective is sought and welcomed for equal consideration. I'm not that easily influenced by the words of others. Words and fiery discussion do not frighten me. I feast with the deplorables. And THAT IS how I know I'm okay. On my own right side, what's rite for me.

ANYONE is welcome at my table. 💞

☀️ I LOVE THAT FUCKING BIG.

Any

Mother

Fucking

One

Bring it.

We roll.

I'm Go(o)d.

I left the matrixed world with intention, and the vagabonds, criminals, and junkies...the social pariahs and outcasts, have HELD ME as I've roamed ♾️ 8 ♾️ years without one physical hOMe. Changed.

Some same broken. I say Ree bEarthed 💀

The FREE kin who I seek counsel (save a few Northern Warriors from the Tundra) and spend the majority of the time ARE THOSE FOLKS SNEER AT.

I don't tell others what they can or cannot say. Say it.

It's welcome.

If YOU tell me what I can't say, be sure I'll be saying it LOUDER and with an ever more clear and purified channel ELSEWHERE outside your presence.

I built 17 🌪️ Starr Gates in the past few weeks since I said fuck FB and Insta.

Been reclusing. Looking for a place to write. To channel. To let Wyrd flow.

Which brings me to the point of the wind 🌬️ blowing in 🌿 ☀️ 🍀 and through me HERe.

The Wyz danced with the pups earlier, delighting in AI picking the EXACT songs for his spiritual lesson of the moment.

We shared a bowl of resin, we live moment to moment. He shares his disability check with me when I move in deep channel. I'm shit for the Earth plane(t) when I fly with the Holy Ghost. SHE and eye do a delicious dance as One. ⭕

💰 is tight. But a Wyz will scratch up some celebratory Go(o)ds. We smoke MOTHER'S Medicine when we can. Tobacco to Canna to Sassafras. 🌿

♾️8♾️

year

Anniversary

Of

ShanZa

Merlin and Morgana

Zues and Hera

Hades and Persephone / Hecate

Harry and Hermione

Stevie and Lindsey

Zena and Hercules

We dew different WYRK on different planes.

I told him, apparently Elvis lives in Benton Arkansas and is a preacher. We live in OZ, on the ARK too. Neighbors with Elvis!

Also told him I played the link 🔗 of this ELVIS GUY doing said sermon, and my takeaway?

I'd listen to him, this WYZARD, the One Rite HERe IN OZ 🌪️~ that I GNO and fEEL into, speak HIS DraGon FyR s/Word 🗡️ when that RIGHTEOUSNESS OF GOD moves through him....any.fuckin.day.

Over Elvis.

Wut. 😂

Truth!! He MUves my Fyr.

The system has been no friend of his. His truth and Fyr and pure. When he stomps his 🦶 it is felt deep in the Soul. The wrongdoings.

I've loved him as MUSE and best friend for ♾️8♾️ years.

He is beyond any word. He just is. Wyzard is too miniscule a description for his medicine. Mirror. Unwavering in rite natural law. Free Will for all. 💞

10/10/2105 I sent 📤 him a random message on FB.

I was 10 months in to giving everything I owned away to live nomadically. Done with matrix.

Now, we hang about Oz.

He moves nomadically as well.

We Nest HERe n tHERe. Mama provides.

And this. I'm doing all this online creation stuff.

17 new lands I've visited.

I BEE Creatrix.

Building. More.

When I build, Go(o)d guides and I just flow.

I'm doing a thing. A Lone. 🐺 A-wa/ereWolf 🐺

Still Cosmic Mama 💞 and more. Not sorry.

[thegeekyartist]

My 2023 Goals (because resolutions I feel have negative connotations and usually involve subtracting rather than adding):

1. Make more digital art. I kind of started doing this over the summer but drifted away. I miss drawing for fun, and I want to do more of that.

2. Write more. As a kid I used to be obsessed with writing stories, but once I got into drawing I just dropped it completely (you cant have more than one hobby apparently). I finally opened up my Google docs at the start of the summer, just to crank out a few ideas I had been having about wwdits. I then wrote about 120k words about the silly vampire family throughout the rest of the year. I really enjoyed having a space like that, and getting to share stories with all of you has really been an awesome experience. I want to write more, and hell maybe about some other fandoms too. We'll just have to see.

3. Apply to more magazines and museums. I don't share a whole lot on here about my "real life" (outside of a few venty personal posts) but outside of Tumblr I'm a fine artist and art educator. I have a personal practice but a lot of my work has kind of been pushed aside because of art block/working so much. I'm working on a series of self portraits now that will translate really well to print media, so my goal is to get those pieces finished and ready to apply. I've been published a handful of times and each of those times were super exciting. I'd like to keep that going.

4. Learn a new medium, but just for fun. I paint, 3d mediums are like my Everest. So I think it would be fun to take a class for something more hands on, like glass or ceramics or metals or fiber. Or maybe take a knitting class so I can brush up on my skills. Something to create things for ME, not my practice.

5. Quit my non-arts job. I'm not super holding myself to this one, there would need to be a significant shift in the art jobs I have now in order to support myself financially, BUT it's not totally outside the realm of possibility, so I'm allowing space for the thought.

6. Visit at least 2 new cities. My partner and I are still SUPER careful with Covid, masking and social distancing and limiting travel. But our current home (that we moved to in January of 2020, if you can see where this is going), was always supposed to be temporary. Well it's now 2023 and we still have no idea where we'd like to end up, so I'm hoping we can plan to check out some new potential hometowns. We also didn't get a honeymoon, so I'd really like to be able to spend some time together for that.

That's it for now, I'm sure they'll shift and change, but I think they're pretty attainable. I hope you all have a wonderful, calm, and peaceful start to your new year. Thanks for hanging out with me 💖✌️

[alonsista]

Interlagos 2022, part 1: Getting to São Paulo... or how I *almost* met Fernando

I know I’m terribly late into writing this and everybody probably wants to leave 2022 behind, whether it’s about that depressing F1 season or life in general. However, after 16 years watching F1, I finally attended a race for the first time and of course it had to be the beloved Interlagos of my dreams!

Most importantly: I fulfilled my dream of seeing Fernando racing! I really never thought this would happen, given that he had previously retired from F1 before I could attend a Grand Prix and I was sure I would end up missing every chance to see Fernando before he retires again.

A lot happened leading up to Sunday, but I’m trying to keep my train of thought as coherent as possible... for now, let’s dive a little bit into what went on until I got to São Paulo, and I what actually mean with “almost meeting Fernando”!

As I’ve already said, I was never able to go see him race in São Paulo, and that’s because of me being a poor child living in the other side of a continental-size country. When Fernando left the sport, I had just turned 17 - still a minor with no money, and Interlagos 2018 was coincidentally held the same day as the national college entrance exam I took that year.

I passed the exam, and as a university student I was able to save some internship money, so I started planning to attend Interlagos since July 2020 - when Fernando announced his return to F1. Eventually, my plans for 2021 crumbled and I was very upset over not being there for Fernando’s first Brazilian GP since coming back to F1. However, I didn’t lose hope for 2022, all thanks to the two besties I met here on tumblr and who attended the race weekend with me: @dwaxi and @lewisleclerx.

Ticketing for Interlagos was and is always a bloodbath, a nightmare. They used to start selling it every April of the same year, but for the 2022 GP that changed to early December 2021. I was not confident in buying a ticket with an entire year in advance, but I’m glad I took the risk. They advertised the selling as a “pre-sale”, exclusive for those who subscribed for their newsletter and would later receive a code to enter the tickets website.

It turns out that the tickets went sold out during the pre-sale, which was reported on the news as a “mistake” as they somehow put ALL tickets on sale instead of a limited number. Obviously, this made a lot of people angry, as some had/chose to wait to buy later, as there were supposed to be additional sales being held throughout the year. A significant amount of people also had their orders cancelled by Eventim even after successfully paying and everything. That’s why I was very lucky to grab my tickets as early as possible!

From 2022, I was full on delusional mode when the season started. Ferrari winning races?! Charles leading the championship?? I thought this was going to be our year, everything seemed too good to be true. I was already dreaming of the WDC battle ending at Interlagos with Charles winning the title, but we all know what happened. Obviously, I was still extremely excited that I would get to see Fernando and all, but this season was so depressing to me that it threw me off a little, to the point I was expecting (or mentally preparing myself in advance) that Fernando would have a DNF there. Thankfully, Interlagos is always a star on its own - it’s the best race of the year, so I was holding onto that hope that I would not get disappointed because Interlagos always delivers. And boy, it did deliver.

Fast-fowarding to November, it was finally time to travel and of course I was freaking out with so much to do, yet still wanting to save my energy for the trip. I had plans for many handmade banners for Fernando, Pato, Drugo... but I had no time to work on that before leaving, as I packed my stuff as late as possible (spoiler: I did end up making the banners, but I’ll talk about that in another post). I printed a huge amount of pics and threw many paper sheets and other stationery into my suitcase and hoped for the best.

I did not want to give up on the ideas I had for a kpop style handmade tiara, but I also knew I would have no time for that in São Paulo. My mom helped and we made these tiaras in a hurry, I am not exaggerating - we finished these just an hour before I had to leave home for the bus station. Because yes, I had to go on a 4-hour bus trip before taking my 3-hour flight in another state.

I knew Fernando was going to host an event at his own circuit in Spain on Tuesday, so he would only have Wednesday or early Thursday to arrive in Brazil. I was definitely not counting on meeting him or the other drivers at the airport, but I was willing to shoot my shot in case there was a coincidence and I happened to arrive at the same time as any of them, in which case I would need to take the shuttle bus to the international terminal. 

In 2021, I heard that Fernando did not stop to talk to anyone, so I presumed he would do the same this year, which made me NOT stress over the small possibility of meeting him at the airport. I thought that was nearly impossible to happen, and even if it would happen he would simply not give a fuck, so I was completely fine and cool about it and had already accepted my fate with zero expectations. Except that he did arrive the same day as me, did talk to everyone there and even signed stuff for them.

Basically, I arrived at the airport at 1:30PM and Fernando arrived a few hours before, at 8AM or something. I’m so glad he was in a good mood and all, but I would be lying if I said I’m not dying of jealousy of everyone who was there. I guess it was really not meant to be. It’s just one of those things I’ll never get over, you know? It’s so unfortunate. If only I had took a different flight and arrived earlier...

So, yeah. You can imagine how I was going through all stages of grief at once, but I had to let that go and board the plane quickly, as I was already in the boarding gate when I found out about Fernando’s arrival. My flight seemed so calm until we got to the last half an hour and I swear those 30 minutes of turbulences scared the shit out of me. To the point that after arrival I spent the next hour still shaking a bit. Gotta love São Paulo and its bizarre weather.

As soon as I arrived at the airport in São Paulo, I was welcomed by this ad from Aston Martin & Drugo’s sponsors, XP, which reads “investing for Brazil to get back on the grid”. Let me tell you, that was such a good marketing that I got chills. It was the reality check I didn’t know I needed - I was there and it was going to happen, FINALLY. It really hit me that I was going to attend a race weekend for the first time. I also immediately thought, “Drugo has a plan!” and I need him in F1 so bad, so my delusional ass was more than happy to see that ad. Also, what a coincidence that that’s Fernando’s new team. IIRC AM now has 2 Brazilian sponsors, hopefully they’ll do some brand promotions with Fernando too.

Before I finish this post, I have a tip for anyone travelling to São Paulo, whether you’re from Brazil or not. If you arrive at GRU and want to save some money on transportation, take the Airport Express (Expresso Aeroporto). Look for the shuttle bus sign (see pic below) when you’re outside and ask the bus driver if they’re going to the train station or to another terminal (since there are 2 types of shuttle buses). Take the bus going to the train station (or CPTM) and you’ll arrive there in ~15 minutes, for free.

You can buy the train tickets at the station or by using this ticket machine (FYI, the machine accepts only debit cards). This special train departs every full hour (2:00PM, 3:00PM and so on), the itinerary and the hours open are very limited, so make sure to know beforehand where and when you’ll be going. You most probably will still need to ask for an Uber ride later, but it might be a lot cheaper as you’ll get closer to your destination (the GRU airport is far from downtown, I mean, it’s not even in São Paulo, it’s located in Guarulhos!)

Anyway, I definitely wrote too much but if you actually read all of it, I hope this “part 1″ was not a waste of time <3 I am also hoping that I’ll still be in the mood for writing, I do want to write about it all and not give up in the middle of it. The race weekend was really amazing and I don’t think I’ll ever shut up about it - it’s something I want to remember and cherish for a long time.

If you’re curious about something specific, feel free to let me know - I always get lost in my thoughts and end up writing or talking too much about irrelevant things, and I feel like this post was full of it, so it’d be great to know what you guys want to hear about.

[testicularmanslaughtrr]

I miss quite a few people in my and I wish I had a way to say like...you're welcome back anytime.

Hi I've been in my feelings all day and had a long emotional talk with my best friend and I just.

I've been very fixated on the past's place in my future.

I am in a place where for quite a while, people leaving my life was very common. People come people go. I considered myself a fair weather person. Even my own family left me.

During an even darker time in my life I was like oh. I'm only around for as long as I serve a purpose. Once that purpose is up, I'm out.

Thankfully even if that was true, I like to think I don't live that sort of life where I'm just a commodity or a servant. That was a long time ago.

But looking at that, the people I've lost either thru anger or just....the natural sand of time. I wish I just had a way to send a very gentle hand written note that assures- you're welcome to say hi any time. You don't even have to stay long. But it'd be cool to say hi again.

I think the greatest wish many people with symptoms like me is the ability to reconnect, reunderstand, and keep growing in whatever direction life leads after that. I have so many friends from school or just past experiences, conventions, old group chats, etc. People I've lost contact with cause I feel like I can't hold a conversation. People that might still hate my guts. And I just wish I could be like

Door's still open. It never shut.

I've literally only ever blocked one person in my life and that guy was a fucking monster. While I believe most people are not beyond redemption, I have limits. Trick and use me, fuck you. Hurt others in unforgivable ways. I hope you choke.

Not the point sorry

I'm not getting any younger. I'm tired of losing people. Sometimes you can't help it and I have always been firmly in the belief that no one is beholden to me and no one owes me a damn thing. Live your life and live it well. But I still miss people. I miss people I have no business missing and sometimes I just want to randomly message them like "Hey. How have the last 10 years been?"

Sadly for that I know I can't. It's not fair to re-enter lives that don't want me. I just get curious. Did you ever get help? Are you happy? Do you still like homestuck? Have you traveled anywhere? Whats your current favorite song? Do you miss me too?

Idk. I'm growing sappy and sentimental in my old age.

Don't get me wrong. I love my friends more than the waking fucking world. These musings, these feelings, they do not at all interfere with me wanting to keep those I love close to my and make some of the best memories a person could ask for. Cause no matter how much I miss anyone, I'm not losing any of these people. Bet on that.

So what is this ramble for? Idk. I'm just a guy on the internet. But if you read it either you're waiting for me to be smart, which will never happen or maybe you're missing someone too. And it happens. You never truly realize the print someone left on you until you're airing out the laundry. So if you're missing someone, and you have the ability to reach out....fuck it. Just do it. Why not. Worst they do is block u. Then guess what, nothing really changes. Reach out and of the convo fizzles, same thing. Nothing changes, you made the attempt, and the world keeps spinning.

World will always keep spinning.

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

i apologize for mispellings in advance; i have dyslexia and am not editing this post too seriously as i write from my phone

also: this is going to be long. because im walking you through how i found this information out and my process. because i truly have no other idea how to organize this lol

i was looking up the "Nutcracker Adaptations" search-tag on tumblr in case i missed any films (slowly building a list of what i am missing from my collection; this is a tangent, i digress), and i found your post at the top and immediately went "WHAT" like a feral goblin and scurried off to learn more and thought it might be helpful to share what i found? i apologize if this is needless

but first thing i found is you can technically get the book on amazon this very day, BUT it is in Italian. not English

what's important here is that (a) there is a back-up option if there is never an English release lol and, more importantly, (b) that this book has been published before which means there is a decent chance it will be published again in English at some point in the (near?) future

i then looked into the author, (who is the highlighted name above:) Luca Frigerio, and he has a twitter (or X, if you prefer) @/ElCarisna. it confirms the book was released in Italian (with Noise Press as its publisher) first. what you'll notice is interesting is this tweet is from the year 2020 and the kickstarter is from 2022 (as evidenced by the English publisher, Ember Press' article on their website)

and rather promisingly, the wording "release it in the US as well" makes me inclined to assume the kickstarter is not a limited edition-English run? that could be me being naïve BUT i then checked out if Last Ember Press had any more info on twitter since their website does link a twitter account. and i found this tweet where the diction of "pre-order" a copy does make me additionally hopeful for a public release

as does this reward option in the kickstarter where retailers had the ability to order copies as well (don't ask me why it is in Japanese. that is where the link from Last Ember Press took me). so, at the very least, a couple copies of the English version will be available for purchase from retailers. as per kickstarter's protection stuff, i cannot tell you who backed this (and ergo cannot get a lead for myself much less offer you one). all i can do is uselessly tap "2 Backers" and continue my ignorance lmao rip but, hey! it's halfway to something, at least. maybe you can find out and order it through the seller to ship to you, i have no clue lmao BUT it does make me hopeful for a public release eventually and that this would be considered early editions to sell, but that is me making assumptions (thankfully, looking into these retailers likely isn' necessary as i'll explain later. but it's important we mention said retailers as it is another point in the "Likely Will Get a Public Release" column of things)

regardless, i did also check their Updates tab and found out the books are printing very soon for these backers! the books just printed this year in 2024. this is the latest update (and also, i did check the FAQ tab to see if anything would be confirmed about an eventual public release and the FAQ tab is empty, alas)

i did see there was an option to ask a question in the FAQ, even if you are not a backer. and i don't have a twitter, but i do have an ancient and long untouched kickstarter. so i did send them the question JUST to be sure in case "A Steampunk Carol" is a special case (why it would be will be explained later when i discuss "In The Land Of Dragon" in a sec. i'm walking you through this as how i found out about all of this; and that's the last piece i looked into)

so! if they do a public release, it should be relatively soon (like, within the next two years? if not sooner?) i don't know how long they will wait between a majority of backers receiving their books and an official public release. but i didn't see anything on Last Ember advertising a release, all their tweets are from 2022 or before

HOWEVER, Last Ember Press seems to do a lot of kickstarters. so i got curious and wanted to look into if they have a previously established order of operations. i am not going to look into every series (bc wow would that be a LOT of back and forth scrolling on twitter, no thanks), but i did want to look into one series confirmed to have physical copies. so the example i chose to look into, they did advertise when they had their books printed (most important tweet referenced: 2022 November 10, was about "In The Land of Dragon", and the tweet simply said: "In the Land of Dragon books have arrived!" with a photo of said issues. which, funnily enough, i saw on those covers that Luca Frigerio worked on this series too lol [insert meme of Mickey Mouse saying "This is a surprise tool that will help us later"]) and then i checked backwards and found that, yep, yep, yep, "In The Land of Dragon" has originally been a kickstarter, wow, wow, wow

and i confirmed they do sell that series in the online store Shop.LastEmberPress.com but is NOT on amazon. since i have Luca Frigerio's amazon creator-tab thanks to the Italian "A Steampunk Carol" version (idk what it's called, but that tab you can click on to see what else a person worked on, that little blue text-link saying their name. that thing.), i checked his other works to see if any of THEM were available on Last Ember Press' shop as a reverse-engineer. none of the items on Luca Frigerio's tab ("The Steams" , "The Tears", and "Kitsune") are available on Last Ember's shop, which implies they are from a different not-Last-Ember-Press publisher which i did later confirm on their respective amazon-product-pages. and as we discussed in the beginning, "A Steampunk Carol"'s Italian version's publisher is Noise Press

and, very importantly: Luca Frigerio is credited on "In The Land of Dragon". but that work is NOT on his amazon creator-tab. but those books ARE for sale on Last Ember Press' shop (and, in case the clarification is not already obvious: Luca Frigerio is working with "A Steampunk Carol" for Last Ember Press now. so that book will likely follow closer to how Frigerio's "In The Land Of Dragon" was releaaed rather than Noise Press' Italian version of "A Steampunk Carol")

meaning, that these books' presence on amazon says nothing about Last Ember Press' methodologies, as the publishers do not seem to be related as far as i can tell. so then i checked out a few different Last Ember properties (that are available for sale on their shop, many of which i assume are from kickstarters considering how many kickstarters this publisher does, i know "In The Land Of Dragon" definitely was a kickstarter. i am not looking into every series they have ever made, just "Dragon", again, i am sleepy lmao) to be sure, and NONE of the books in their shop have came up on amazon. so it is very promising that Last Ember Press' history so far has been confirmed to include Establish a Kickstarter → Give Backers Their Copy → Eventually Release The Book On Their Own Website. that's nice to know

so!! this tells us that if "A Steampunk Carol"'s English version very likely does get a public release at some point (i'm not doing the math to see their average gap between "Hey backers, books are shipped out!" and when they announce you can buy the book in their shop to tell you approximately when the book will be out, my dyslexia impacts my math, i don't wanna do math lmao rip), it will be on Shop.LastEmberPress.com and will not be on amazon, considering Last Ember Press' pattern thus far. if i am correct and this book does get a widespread English release: i, personally, would recommend either getting your book from said website OR asking a local bookstore to ship it in for you to pick up so you then support two small buisnesses at once

so! unless "A Steampunk Carol" is a special case!! it should be assumed to be available for a widespread release at some point in the (near?) future. the caveat being it will only be available on Last Ember Press' personal shop if so (unless you do my recommendation and have your local bookstore get it for you to pick up), and that a majority of the marketting seems to be on their twitter (meaning: check their twitter for if/when it comes out) though their website does also have a newsletter to sign up for if you prefer that (that's probably what i'll do as someone who has no twitter). i dunno when. but if it is a special case where it is backers-only (i doubt it, but i also rule nothing out), at least is an Italian version on amazon and you can at least admire the art from there (and maybe have someone fluent in Italian translate it for you with sticky-notes or something, idk), so there is that too ♡ hooray!

thanks for leading me to look into a cool looking book! from one Nutcracker-adaptation-fiend to another (which, btw, your stuff looks really cool! fuck yeah, keep at it!! ♡), i am really glad to know about this new (and likely upcoming) version of the story! i hope this helps you in knowing there is likely going to be a physical release and, if so, where to find it. thanks and good luck!! ♡

Man I'm discovering all things now…

now I discovered there was a kickstarter for a steampunk adaptation of the nutcracker story, and it's been long fulfilled, and I'm not seeing any info about them selling it outside the kickstarter.

ueh…

[ghostwriterofficial]

The Ghostwriter (5 Chapter Sample)

Well, hello there! For my own safe keeping, I am posting the first five chapters of my work-in-progress novel, The Ghostwriter.

If you stay to read I would appreciate it greatly if you would tell me what you think in the notes!

This is my first ever novel, so I hardly know what I'm doing. Criticism, (both negative and positive) really helps me.

Cw/tw for cursing, drug reference and alcohol, as well as mild sexual references and a potential eating disorder (I promise it's not as edgy as that makes it seem)

(Also musical theater. Ew.)

Story is under the read more 》

  Chapter I

September 12th, 2012

A thin bar of moonlight crossed my face as I stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks and then recounting them as I had been since about ten pm, which is when I gave up on television and attempted to sleep. At this point, though, I was giving up on that, too. I rolled over and checked the time on my alarm clock. 3 AM. Practically morning, I decided.

 I rolled out of the blankets and sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands. It’s better if I don’t sleep, anyway. I thought. When I slept, the dreams returned. Dark hair in the wind, bundled up in a parka, a small child. Ready for the bus, only to miss it- 

I shook my head, clearing the memory, and stood up. I stretched until my back popped and then I shuffled sock-footed down the hallway and into the kitchen.

I opened the fridge, removed the milk carton, and gave it a shake. 

“About half full,” I muttered, opening it and taking a swig. 

I set it on the counter and took a can of coffee out, along with one filter out of the bag that I kept up there. I placed it in my old coffeemaker, and then poured a spoonful of coffee inside it. I checked the water level, and noticed it was full, so I closed the top and pressed “start” before opening the cupboard where I kept dishes and grabbing my mug. It was a wedding gift from about five years ago- a cheap thing, with ‘Mr.’ printed in black serif on the outside.

 I liked it because it was just the right size, and in my experience conducted heat better than any other mug I had. I refilled the dog’s water dish and wiped my counter down white I waited for my coffee to brew. I smiled slightly when the comforting scent began to fill my apartment. Colin was sleeping on the couch, curled in a tight black ball. He wasn’t technically allowed to be there- he sheds like crazy- but I didn’t have the heart to kick him off.

 His old bones needed rest.

He stirred a bit in his sleep and I left the kitchen to give him an affectionate pat on his shoulder. He tapped his tail, very slightly, and sighed. 

“Good boy.” I murmured.

Just then, the coffee maker beeped, and I went back to the kitchen to pour myself a cup. I added some milk, and a little honey, and leaned back against my counter, mug warming my hands, as I waited for it to cool to a temperature just under the limit of what my mouth could handle. I glanced out the kitchen window, at what I could see of the sky. The stars weren’t visible- they never were, here- but the moon was.

 The first signs of dawn were beginning to appear on the undersides of the clouds, but the sky was a rich grayish black and a fat full moon shone in sharp relief against it. My brain hummed with the faintest sign of inspiration.

“Only the brightest lights are visible, but the moon is only bright because it reflects something brighter.” I muttered to myself, forgetting how hot my drink was and taking a thoughtful and artistic sip. 

I had been standing there for a second, breathing through my mouth to soothe my burned tongue, when my gaze dropped to the ivy plant on my kitchen windowsill. 

It seemed dry so I filled a glass half-full with water and poured some into the soil.

The plant was growing in the other mug in the wedding set, the one marked “Mrs.” 

I had wanted to break it when Ellie left, but I couldn’t bear to even throw it away.

At the same time though, I couldn’t stand seeing it just sitting there in the cabinet among the other mugs, as if it was just waiting expectantly for her to lift it off the shelf. I found a better use for it where it is now: on the sill, with an ivy in it.

With both mugs full, I felt less like half a set, and more like… well… 

Something else.

But in a good way, I think.

I took a sip of my coffee, now at a drinkable temperature, although the pain on my tongue had not completely faded.

I sighed, and set about the long task of enduring what was left of the night.

Chapter II

I managed to fall asleep soon after, despite the coffee, despite the fact that I had been sitting in an office chair, and despite the biting cold seeping through the drafty window in my office. I had been waiting in vain for an email to appear out of thin air, but it hadn’t three weeks ago, and it wouldn’t now.

It would’ve been smarter for me to just give up, at least temporarily- rather than waiting anxiously for a sign, any sign at all, that I had a client.

Business was always somewhat catch-as-catch-can in the ghostwriting industry, but never had it been so unreliable; I hadn’t had work in months, and my funds were running painfully thin.

My clients were the rich and powerful (or, far more often, the mildly famous) who wanted an “auto” biography without having to write said material. A few days ago I put in applications to work at the nearest fast food joints, just to keep myself alive, in case i couldn't get a client before my funds ran out.

I stretched, wincing at the soreness in my back, and stood up. 

I couldn’t tell the exact time from the light outside, as the sky was clouded over, mirroring the thick blanket of fog that had crept in on me as I slept. The worst kind of weather, in my opinion.

What made it worse was the fact that I had to go walk the dog.

I went to the door and called Colin.

Immediately I heard the telltale clicking of a dog’s claws on hardwood, and the boy himself appeared in the doorway, expectant dog grin on his face.

“Walk?”

He let out a quiet woof in response and wagged his tail like a helicopter.

I smiled despite myself and grabbed my coat and his leash off the hooks by the door, and after putting them on we departed.

I cannot stand fog; it makes everything damp and obscures your vision to the point that you almost have to navigate by sound alone. 

If it weren’t for Colin, I wouldn’t leave at all when it’s like this. At least it was a distraction from my depressing lack of emails- I knew if I were inside, I’d be checking it every five minutes, and that wouldn’t be healthy, really.

I congratulated myself for being positive for once as I followed the dog through the hall and down the stairs, fishing my pockets for cigarettes. I located one loose in my coat pocket along with a cheap lighter just as we were arriving at the door.

 It didn’t occur to me until I was faced with the swirling gray in person that I might not even be able to light the thing because of the oppressive moisture in the air. It also couldn’t hurt to try. I stood under the alcove and managed to light the end and set it smoldering. I took a puff and stepped off the stoop and onto the sidewalk, allowing Colin to lead me where he chose. Despite the cigarette, I couldn’t ignore the ominous presence of the fog. I couldn’t see ten feet in front of my face, and sounds were muffled. I felt goosebumps forming on my arms as I followed my dog into the void. I told myself I was acting stupid. I mean, this was practically a phobia, and for what? Some floating water vapor?

I shook myself off and tried to think of something, anything else, like how nice it was to be outside despite the weather, and think of all the calories I was burning by walking!

Except, no, it wasn’t nice really, and I needed all the calories I got. I was already underweight, although I didn’t like to admit it. It wasn’t that I couldn’t get food per se, I just kind of forgot to eat most of the time. I never really felt hunger a lot of the time, and whenever I realized I hadn’t eaten in a while, I had to force myself to eat anyway, so what was the point of cooking? Most of my calorie content was from the shit I put in my coffee, to be honest. I exhaled smoke as I sighed.

“It never gets better, does it?” I said aloud, surprising myself as much as the dog, who turned to face me, looking concerned. It was a thought I had been having internally for a long time, turning it around in my mind like a gas station hot dog, but I don’t think I’d ever voiced it. I took a long drag and released it. Fuck, I knew I didn’t need an answer for that question. I knew the answer. Maybe it had been better once at some point, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to survive long enough for it to ever be that way again. And if I was being honest with myself I don’t think I wanted things to be the way they were. Unless I could turn back time to before shit started to hit the metaphorical fan, anything I did would be tainted by my memories. Any happiness made me feel vague guilt as it was- it might’ve eaten me alive if I let myself be happy all the time.

Maybe things got better for some people, but as far as I was concerned, things were as good as over. I had smoked that cigarette down to the filter and half finished another (a completely different brand, who knows where it came from? Certainly not me-), by the time Colin was ready to head back to the apartment. I smoked the other one down and crushed it under my heel. Instantly wishing I had more. It was less of an addiction to nicotine (although that helped), than just the desire to focus on something. I used to smoke pot, but it was one of the first things to go when I started budgeting- it just wasn’t as important as food.

If you asked me that now, I’d probably have a different opinion, but that didn’t matter anyway, because my food budget had shrunk to be far lower than what my weed budget used to be.

I stepped in a puddle and almost cried.

I squelched home in abject misery, mentally cursing God, Zeus, and the local politicians.

Colin led the way into the building, up the stairs, down the hallway, and waited patiently while I fumbled with the keys.

I threw off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and, standing there in my bare feet, decided to go the whole extra mile and just take a shower. When I finished, I put another pair of sweatpants on along with a clean shirt, and threw a hoodie over it because the apartment was cold. Slouching into the kitchen, I noticed Colon's empty food dish and poured a scoop into it for him. Hearing the tinkle of the kibble, he came trotting in from the living room, grin on his face, and began inhaling it.

I patted his head and left him to it. The door to my office (used to be a bedroom) caught my eye, and I stood in the living room with what looked like an intense internal conflict all over my face, when in reality I had blanked out and there were no thoughts going on whatsoever.  I remembered where I was and opened the door. The bulky old computer, at least half my age, sat taunting me from the rickety old desk I had picked up from a yard sale at a house a couple blocks down the road. I took a seat in my office chair and reached out a hand to boot the thing up, before catching myself.

"C'mon Jack. You know there's nothin' there…" I muttered aloud, immediately pressing the power button anyway.

I watched in sulky silence as the dinosaur of a computer struggled to boot. As it loaded itself up, I reminded myself that there was no way that there would possibly be anything in my inbox. I opened Gmail with that mindset, and I had to come to terms with the fact that it was the wrong one pretty quickly when, despite the odds, I was faced with an email. Not just any email, either- an email from a potential client, which had been sent hours ago, while I was sleeping right in front of the goddamned computer. With shaking hands I opened it and began to read.

In essence, the agent of one Ossory Black, famous Broadway actor, required someone who could write a biography for him from his point of view, without credit but with a fat stack of cash as reward. They wanted confirmation of a lunch date/interview over the phone, and had enclosed their number as an open invitation.

I felt giddy. I could live for months on that type of money, which, while the numbers had been vague at best, I was sure was a good type.

I practically scrambled to call the number, nearly dropping my Nokia several times. Which wouldn't have been a problem, but was still frustrating.

It rang three times before a disgruntled female voice answered me.

"You've reached Lilly Harper," she growled, "the fuck do you want?"

"I'm Jack Shmidt," I spoke slowly to avoid pissing her off. "The ghostwriter?"

"Oh, right." She cleared her throat and seemed to straighten herself before continuing. "Sorry about that, I thought you were… someone else…"

I had ideas about who that someone could be, but I didn't say anything.

"It's alright. You wanted to negotiate a deal?"

"Yes." She said, "But damn, have you got your work cut out for you."

Chapter III

We spoke at length about rates, before negotiating a meet time. I hung up the phone with a grin and turned to my dog, who had come over at the sound of my voice.

"We're safe now, boy!" I laughed, attempting to pick him up, before my strength failed and I gave up. I shook it off and petted him instead, but it still worried me, somewhere in the back of my mind. I was always able to carry him before, even when he was a strong young adult. Now he was old, and light, and somewhat frail and I should’ve definitely been able to carry him with ease, but I couldn’t and it made me uneasy. I went out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette.

It hit me that this book may very well be my big break, so to speak. 

Although I knew I wouldn't get any credit for the work publicly, Black was famous enough that hopefully the right people within publishing would catch wind of it. I realized then that this job was more important than just this one client- it could make or break my career.

I chuckled and snuffed my cigarette out on the wooden railing. Kind of late for that, honestly. An opportunity like this should've come a decade ago; career determining events belong in your twenties. Not that I was complaining, this way I knew I wouldn’t botch the job- I had an extra ten or so years of experience under my belt.

I pocketed what was left of the cigarette and went inside. I knew what I had to do to prepare for the project.

I spent the next three days researching the theater, so I could at least appear knowledgeable. I even found a few illegal recordings of plays circulating online, including some that Black himself had performed in. He didn’t look how I expected him to. Honestly, I was kind of expecting an older guy- after all, why would a young guy want a biography when he wasn't done having experiences worth writing about? He seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, a little younger than I was, and he had vibrant red hair. I thought I’d seen redheads before, but Ossory Black was a whole different category. I had never seen anyone with hair that shade, and my first instinct was to think it was dyed, but by the time I finished all the material I could find, I wasn’t so sure, although I wasn’t able to find any pictures of him with different colored hair to prove it.

 He seemed to own any stage he was placed on, even when he played more minor roles, which is probably the reason he wasn’t put in minor roles more than a few times, in his early career.

 I wasn’t able to find any plays featuring him in any roles, even minor ones, earlier than 2004, but I chalked that down to him only being in local performances, or more niche productions. His wikipedia page was uncommonly bare as well, which was surprising as he was somewhat of a celebrity, with a good number of fans. 

The only information on his page that I hadn’t found out myself through mere deduction was a birth date; November 1st, 1985, which meant he was 27, so I was more or less spot on when I guessed his age. I was intrigued by the incredible dearth of information relating to this guy, and found it exciting that I would be the one who would reveal his backstory to the world, and judging by the comments sections on the many MySpace posts related to him, a lot of people wanted to read it, too. 

I woke up to the alarm I forgot I had set blaring in my ears, and it took me a solid thirty seconds to remember why the fuck I had set it in the first place.

I slapped at it until it shut up and then I groaned and rolled out of bed, stretched, and trudged, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen, where I brewed myself some coffee and thought about maybe making toast. I decided against it (pretty sure the bread was stale anyway), and went into the office, where I saw my notes from yesterday and nearly spat out my drink with the shock of realizing that it had actually happened. Jack Shmidt in reality is never so lucky… until now, I guess. I gathered my notes, skimmed over them to jog my memory, and checked the time. 

“Shit.” I sighed. I needed to hurry or I’d be late. 

 I showered quickly, blow dried my hair, and shaved. Then I went to figure out what to wear. I found a sweater vest in the back of my closet, a pale blue button-down shirt, and a pair of khaki slacks.

I got dressed and hunted down my comb so I could fight the knots out of my hair. I seriously needed a haircut. Like, a professional haircut, not just the stationary-scissors trims I would give myself once my hair got long enough to brush my shoulders. I hadn’t gotten it professionally cut since my ex wife and I were emo and I wanted it fringe. I lost focus reminiscing and accidentally yanked the comb too hard.

I cursed and shook my head to dispel the pain and the memories. As I did so I noticed the wall clock out of the corner of my eye- I had fifteen minutes to get there. I cursed again and stood up, scanning the room for things I may need. I grabbed my keys, phone, notepad and wallet and shrugged into my coat. Colin heard my keys jingling and came running, thinking I was taking him for a walk.

“Sorry, buddy,” I told him, crouching so I could give him a hug,  “You can’t come along this time.” I held his face and rubbed the graying hairs on the side of his muzzle and sighed.

He was getting old fast. He had been just a puppy when Hope was born. I stood abruptly, startling the dog, and turned to leave.

On my way out I peeked at myself in the full-length mirror by the door and sighed. The idea was to make myself look like the kind of person who would enjoy theater, but I just felt like an office worker like this. I glanced into the coat closet, found my favorite knit cap, and put it on.

“Yeah, I guess this works.” I shrugged and pulled on my converse.

As I was leaving my apartment I turned to look over my shoulder at Colin.

“Bye.” I said again.

He answered with nothing but a tired sigh that ate at my heart, and I shut the door behind me, leaving him alone.

When I turned around I found myself face to face with my neighbor, Crystal.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Interview.” I said, trying to move past her.

“You finally got a real job?” She elbowed me teasingly. “Mister ‘Starving Artist’?”

“I’m the one doing the interviewing, dumbass.” I snorted.

“Ohhh…” She adjusted her glasses, (which I knew were just RealD 3D glasses with the frames popped out, but whatever). “Well, at least you’re being paid, cause the way you’ve been living…”

“Yeah… I, uh…” I nodded my head in the direction I needed to go. “I’m actually gonna be late if I don’t-”

“...Absolutely cray cray.” She continued. I doubt she had even heard me, because she was now texting someone. “Who is your client, anyway?”

“Uhhh… some guy named Ossory Black?”

She nearly dropped her phone. “Ossory Black??”

I nodded and tried to escape while she was distracted, but she grabbed my sleeve before I could get away. “Ossory fucking Black? The actor?”

“Yep. That guy.”

“O.M.G that’s cool as shit.”

“Can I go now?”

“So that’s why you’re dressed like a bargain bin Onceler.” She grinned.

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?” 

“Not really a diss, you know…” She said, moving closer. “You know I’m a Once-ling. I kinda dig the scrawny hipster aesthetic.”

I cleared my throat. “Crystal, we talked about this.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, Jack. If you didn’t want to see me anymore you should’ve moved away like I told you to.”

“You know full fucking well that that’s not happening.” I growled.

She moved away. “Sheeeeeeesh…” 

As I turned to leave she called after me,

“Hey, get an autograph from him for me, pretty please? I’m a big fan!”

The car ride was uneventful, and traffic was somewhat light, luckily, but I still ended up five minutes late. 

I locked my car, a little Honda Civic with nothing in or on it worth stealing, and crossed the rain-shiny parking lot to the little diner we had agreed to meet at. Surprisingly humble in my opinion, due to the theatrical nature of my client’s profession, but I didn’t mind either way. 

When I stepped through the heavy wooden push-door, I skimmed the tables for my client.

He wasn’t hard to find. Aside from his eye-catching hair, he seemed to exude an air of confidence that drew the eyes. Also, he was reading one of my books.

I stumbled as soon as I noticed. He was sitting sideways at the booth, leaning against the window, with my book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He took a sip and flipped the page, seeming engrossed. 

I had no idea if he knew I had written it (though if he didn’t that was a crazy coincidence), but I still scanned his face for signs of approval and willed myself to walk.

When I neared the booth he raised his eyes to meet mine. They were bright green and full of humor. I realized that I had dressed incorrectly. Black himself was wearing ripped black jeans and a dark green sweater that was unraveling at the edges, in contrast to my pale business casual.

“Good book?” I asked as I struggled to arrange my thoughts.

“Actually, yeah,” He grinned. “And who are you?”

“Jack Shmidt… I’m uh…” 

He thought about it for a moment before he realized.

“Oh! You’re the ghostwriter, aren’t ya?”

I grimaced. “Well, I wouldn’t say it out loud like that.”

He closed the book and turned to sit at the table normally.

“Eh, who gives a damn, my reputation is already shit anyway,” He said, gesturing across the table, “Have a seat, why dontcha?”

I obliged, and he continued.

“So Lil hired you to write down my life story, right?” He asked, stirring his drink, which at closer range was revealed to be not coffee, but tea.

“Ah, yes. Yes, that’s correct.” I nodded.

An elderly waitress noticed us and came over to take our orders.

“Well would you look at that, its my favorite reoccurring customer. And you've got a new friend?” She twittered. "Double the business!"

“Doris, this is Jack,” Black gestured towards me and I waved sheepishly. “He’s been hired to write my biography.”

“That’s wonderful honey, I hope it sells well.”

“Thank you kindly.” He answered with a warm smile.

“Can I getcha anything, dears?” She asked, glancing first at Ossory, then at me. 

“Just the usual, please.” Black answered

“Oh, of course. It's always potatoes with you in some way or other, you ginger."

 Watching them laugh together made me grin despite myself. 

She turned to me with a sparkle in her eye.

“And what can I get for you?”

“Oh, no thank you,” I said, shaking my head, “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh nonsense, dear.”

“No, really. I don’t need anything to eat.” I insisted, “But I would like some coffee, if you have it.”

“Suit yourself, dearest,” she shrugged, “But if you get hungry just let me know.” she gave a pert nod in my direction and shuffled back to the kitchen.

I looked down at the table and sighed quietly enough that I didn’t think anybody could hear me over the din of the diner, but when I looked up, I saw that Black was examining my face with a vague expression on his face.

“You… alright, over there?” He asked.

“Oh, totally. Just had a big breakfast, that's all.” I lied cheerfully.

He laughed. “I get it.”

I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

“Anyway, that book we were working on?”

“Oh, right, well, what is it you need to know?” He asked. “Where should I start?”

“Well, uh.” I pulled out my notebook and opened it at an empty page. “I guess, the beginning? You know, where were you born? To whom?”

“I…” He thought for a moment, closing his eyes with concentration, “Well I was born the first of November, In 1986.” He said.

“Uh huh.” I nodded. I learned that already, from wikipedia.

“I was born in Ireland, but came over the pond a long time ago, I don’t remember it much.” He continued.

I wrote that down quickly. I should’ve figured he was Irish based on his hair, and eyes, and the spray of freckles across his nose.

“Alright.” I said, when I noticed that he was waiting for confirmation.

He cleared his throat and continued on. “I came over alone, though. No parents.”

I glanced up, surprised.

“If you don’t mind me asking, wha-”

He interrupted me with a shrug. “No idea, I never saw them again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

He shrugged again. “I don’t remember them, either. It was forever ago.”

From that point on he had my pen writing constantly as he painted his story.

After he came to America, he wandered the streets of New York, where he saw his first Broadway play by sneaking in after a young well-to-do couple, the Morrison-Blakes, who offered to take him in when they discovered him trying to follow them out afterwards. 

The wife, Margaret Morrison-Blake, was infertile, and they raised the then eight-year-old Ossory Black as their own son, in their family home in Vermont. 

He was next in line to receive the Morrison-Blake fortune when his adoptive parents suddenly disappeared and he was accused of the murder, but nothing came of the accusations. At 15 years old Black was once again an orphan, but this time he ran away when the authorities tried to put him in foster care, and ended up living in an abandoned house in the ‘bad part’ of town. He didn’t go to school past freshman year.

I was enthralled. As he spoke, a far-away look came into his eyes like an old man reminiscing about old memories. 

We completely lost track of time, actually. The food was delivered and eaten, several cups of coffee were drunk, the bill was delivered and paid (Black insisted on footing the bill) and I got to see just a little bit deeper into the soul of the man who was Ossory Black than anyone else ever had… or at least, that's what I thought.

When I looked up from my notepad, I noticed the light had changed. 

He did, too, “I think we’d best continue that when we meet next.” He grinned.

“Yeah,” I said, gathering my things.

“Oh, wait- before I forget…” He rifled through his bag, searching for something. I stood back and waited, and he pulled out a wad of cash. “This is the… uh… whatever it’s called… down payment?” 

On autopilot, I reached out and took it. “Yeah, thanks.” I said, pocketing it. It looked to be a good thousand’s worth in hundred-dollar bills. I grinned.

“Also,” He looked me up and down, “You’ve never been to a single production, have you?”

I ran my hand across the back of my neck. “Well, uh… not in person?”

He snapped his fingers. “I knew it!” He exclaimed, “I kept dropping the easiest references ever and they went right over your head.” 

“Heh. Yeah, I wasn’t a theater kid or anything.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, you look like the Onceler pre-capitalism trying to pass himself off as a highschool theater queer when he’s nothing but a hipster without the mustache.” 

I had to take a few seconds to process all the words in that sentence, and by the time I was ready to defend myself he was already distracted looking for something in his bag.

He passed me a rather large red ticket, resembling a movie ticket but oversized, and what looked like a backstage pass but had “Crew” printed on it. “This is for my next show.” He said, pointing at the ticket. “It opens for the first time tomorrow, actually, which is why I have to be leaving, heh.” 

“Oh, thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course.” He thought for a moment. “I mean, after all, you can’t write about theater if you’ve never felt theater.”

“Okay, And what’s this for?” I held up the pass.

“Ah,” He grinned mischievously. “That will let you into the crew only after-party.”

I imagined what Crystal would think if I told her I’d be going to a cast party with Ossory Black and stifled a wicked grin.

“Actually, could I get an autograph? My friend is a big fan of yours.” I ripped a blank sheet from my notebook and held it out to him.

He smiled and pulled a pen from his back pocket. “Sure. Who should I make it out to?”

I thought for a moment before answering; “That chick with the mustache finger tattoo.”

He snorted and slapped the paper down on the table so he could write it down before signing the page with his name in elegant script.

 “Here you go.” He said, passing it back to me with a tip of an imaginary hat. “Good luck with that chick.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled. “Good luck with your rehearsal.”

“Much obliged.” He said, turning on his heel and walking out of the doors with extremely enviable confidence.

I shook my head and pocketed the autograph before going out the door myself. I glanced around on my way to the car, but he was nowhere to be seen.

On my way back to my apartment I stopped to deposit all of the money in the bank except for one hundred dollar bill, which I took with me to Walmart and used to buy dog food and printer ink, then I drove through the Starbucks drive thru and ordered a venti Caramel Macchiato with almond milk, no whipped cream, and three and a half extra shots of espresso in it using the change.

“Fucking hell, they made it wrong.” I sighed, taking a sip as I turned out into the rolling tide of traffic, only to be nearly rear-ended by a minivan.

“Mother fucker!” I snarled as I unrolled the window and stuck my hand out so they could see when I flipped them off. Judging by the way they laid on the horn, they definitely saw it. I quickly rotated the hand crank to roll the window back up and snickered.

When traffic started moving again, the minivan passed me and I made eye contact with the bloated, red faced, and absolutely livid middle aged man who was driving. I winked at him and he started ranting like a lunatic at his wife, who was sitting next to him with an expression of abject misery. I shuddered at the thought that I may be like them someday. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was getting older, despite the fact that I didn’t seem to have changed much since I was twenty, other than one or two concerning gray hairs that were only visible if I looked for them. Even still, time marched on. Hope would’ve been twelve if she hadn’t- 

I turned the knob on the radio all the way up to dispel the thought and nearly shattered my fucking eardrums. I sat there, watching the sea of cars trickle slowly forward, and tried to stop my shoulders from shaking while Somebody That I Used to Know blared out of my car’s speakers with so much force that I could practically feel it.

It occurred to me then that I never would be like that middle aged couple, they-

(insert deep philosophical speech where this mf over analyzes boomers)

***

I pulled into the apartment block two hours later, what optimism I had left sucked away like jello through a metal tube by New Jersey traffic. As neat of a noise as that would make, I was sad, and desperate for the cigarettes I had forgotten to buy. I lugged the groceries upstairs with great difficulty, put them away, and immediately threw off my clothes so I could change into something more comfortable. I found my favorite pair of sweatpants, an old pair with worn knees and holes in random places from Colin getting too excited as a puppy. I was pulling a hoodie over my head when a knock came at the door.

“H-hello?” I called.

“Jack, it’s me, Crystal!”

I adjusted my sweater and walked over to the door. 

“What do you want, though?” I said, without opening it.

I could hear her exasperated sigh through the door before she told me she just wanted to talk.

I opened the door and crossed my arms, waiting for her to say what she wanted to.

“So,” She grinned. “Ossory Black?”

I shrugged. “He’s pretty chill, I guess.”

“You interviewed him, though.” She said, eagerly. “You learned shit he hasn’t told anyone else before.”

“Yeah, I mean…”

“Have you started writing?”

“Chris, I just got home…” 

“Oh, right,” She thought for a second, “Didya get an autograph for me?”

I had completely forgotten about it. “Actually, yeah. Give me a minute to find it.”

Before she could answer, I closed my door and searched around a minute before finding the sheet of paper folded up in one of the front pockets of the slacks I had been wearing, where it made the most logical sense for them to be in the first place.

I opened the door again warily to find her still standing there.

“Here.” I said, handing her the paper and immediately shutting the door again.

I could vaguely hear her saying something through the door, but I pretended not to and went to find the dog.  

I found him sleeping on the sofa again and gave him a gentle pat, before sitting down at my desk to set up a more cohesive outline.

The first step was to check Black’s story, to see if any of the people he mentioned, even the ones with a vague connection, could be found and hopefully interviewed. The first people I googled were his adoptive parents, the Morrison-Blakes. Although they were dead, hopefully I’d be able to find living relatives, or more descriptive accounts of their deaths that Black himself wouldn't have been able to know or remember. Possibly even information on his immigration that would even reveal the identities of his biological parents. No matter how thoroughly I checked, though, I couldn’t find anything. I couldn’t even find evidence that the Morisson-Blakes were real people. The nearest record of people with those specific names were a couple from the 1800s, who had obviously been dead too long to have anything to do with Black.  I chewed my lip thoughtfully. It’s possible that he misremembered their names, I thought. He was pretty young when they died, and he didn’t know them for all that long, did he?

I made a note to ask Black about it tomorrow, and went to bed.

Chapter IV

I managed to sleep that night, for a few hours. I woke up at nine and made myself some cereal that I made myself eat a couple bites of before pouring the rest into the sink. I cleaned out my fridge, excavating leftovers that looked old enough to host sentient life. With no remorse, I tossed them in the trash and lugged the full bag down the stairs and out the door so I could throw them into the apartment block’s dumpster. Noticing the difference already upon reentering my apartment, I decided to do a little more cleaning. ‘A little more cleaning’ started off as just me wiping down counters and mopping the bathroom floor, and ended up with me vacuuming the curtains and throwing away decade-old tax invoices. 

I stood in my living room, hands on my hips, surveying my handiwork. 

Yeah, the furniture was mismatched, and the ceiling leaked, and the carpet was stained, but it suited me. I was mismatched and poorly put together myself. And the work I had just put in was worth it. 

“Probably about time to get ready for the show.” I told Colin, who was sitting on the couch, already dusting the blue fabric with dark hairs.

He let out a quiet woof and I forgot about the couch.

“Good boy.” I said, giving him a pat as I walked past. 

In my closet, I had a surprising amount of formal clothing.

Most didn’t fit quite right. Too big, too loose. The tuxedo I wore to my wedding, the ones I wore to friends’ funerals, the suits I used to wear to meet clients. I grabbed two undershirts and held one and then the other against my chest to figure out which would fit better. Eventually I decided on one and found an overcoat that matched. 

“Here goes nothing.” I sighed.

***

The traffic was unusually quiet and the sun painted the clouds vivid orange as it went down over the tallest buildings. I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I checked the time. If all went well, I would arrive on time- early, even. Immediately after thinking this I came up on a blockage several cars long.

“Shit, just my luck.” I muttered, settling back in my seat and sighing. The music that was playing on the radio just then was getting on my nerves, so I opened the glovebox and pulled out a stack of CDs large enough to bludgeon a man to death if put into something swingable, like a leather bag. 

Not that I had thought about using them as a weapon or anything- that was just roughly how many they were.

Unfortunately, my music tastes had changed a lot since I bought most of them. I felt a vague nostalgic sadness as I flipped through the cases and saw titles I hadn’t read in years;

The Young And The Hopeless by Good Charlotte, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge by MCR…

I smiled a little at that last one. I remembered going to a My Chemical Romance several years ago, back before the divorce. I carried her on my shoulders so she could see over the crowd, both of us high as the ceiling and having the time of our lives. I could remember that night vividly, down to the way her fishnets felt against my skin and the name of the guy we’d bought the ketamine from. I still knew the lyrics of damn near all of their songs. That was one of the last times I ever went to anything remotely like that. I found a Foo Fighters CD in the pile and popped it into the CD player. 

As traffic started moving again, I couldn’t help but smile at the situation.

Here I was, a man in a Honda Civic wearing a formal suit, listening to alt rock on my way to a musical. I was nothing but a mess of contradictions. I pulled into the theater’s parking lot only twenty minutes later and was surprised to see that it was completely full of cars. I drove in circles for a while, looking for just one empty spot with no luck before giving up and heading back out to park by the side of the street somewhere. Finding somewhere free about fifty yards away in between two cars, I swung myself into it in a parallel park maneuver that would’ve made my dad proud, if I had had one. 

I grabbed my bag and locked the door behind me. The length of sidewalk between me and the theater was obscene, but eventually I arrived at the stairs, and upon checking the time realized I was still ten minutes early.

I was pushed along by the crowd into the line for bag checks. After checking my bag, the woman behind the desk asked me if I was a journalist.

Despite being a little overwhelmed, I managed to smile back and answer, “Yeah, something like that.” As I took my things.

When I turned around, I was offered a playbill, which I took, and then I followed the crowd into the main theater.

With some difficulty, I located my seats, which were in the middle of the theater. 

I was surprised by the variety of dress in the patrons. I had expected entirely formal clothing, but many people came in dressed in casual street clothes. Fortunately there were enough fancily dressed people milling around that I didn’t feel overdressed. Honestly, I felt out of place for other reasons… I was a punk rock meth head in a place of fine art, no matter what clothes I wore. It occurred to me that this just might be what making it in life felt like. 

As I waited for the play to start, I took notes on the surroundings. The beautiful high ceilings and ornate columns that almost seemed to come from another era. I could understand why somebody would want to devote their life to this craft.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the lights dimming.

The audience drew silent as the curtains drew back…

And the stage lights illuminated him. Ossory Black.

He gave a little wave to the audience and several people waved back.

“Hello, and welcome to opening night.” He said with a grin, “I hope you enjoy it, because I know I sure will.”

Laughter.

He paced across the stage and continued- “Y’know, no matter how many years I do this for, it never gets old. Maybe this sounds funny coming from me; the newest redheaded star to appear from thin air-”

The audience seemed to be in on the joke, judging by the uproarious laughter that made Ossory crack a wicked grin in response, but I was confused as hell and made a note to ask him about it at the party. 

After they quieted down again, he continued, “- but I couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else. Do something great for humanity, they tell you when you’re young.” He shrugged.

“What they meant was for me to be a doctor or something, a politician, I don’t know…”

“But anyway, I chose to become an actor, because of course you could do your best to fight the world’s problems directly… go down tooth in nail trying to kill world hunger, or racism, or whatever your battle is, and ultimately kill yourself in the process…,” He glanced around the crowd, which was completely silent, waiting for his next words;

“Or, you can reach people, change their minds, offer them catharsis in a world constantly throwing real tragedies their way.”, he said, making eye contact with me, “And live forever.”

I looked down, chewing over his words as he wrapped up his speech.

“The production you are about to witness is one of those tales. Fine art intended to inspire, courtesy of the mind of the great Hugh Jass, who sends you his warmest thoughts from the hospital, where he is watching this live.” He looked sternly down at a group of people who had brought children and said, “That being said, remember to silence your phones, and if your children really must be obnoxious, it would be great if you could remove yourselves in order to  not ruin the immersion of everyone around you.

“That being said, sit back and enjoy the show, everyone.”

I settled back in my seat and watched as the light changed again, and the show started.

***

After the show, I followed the crowd back into the atrium, chewing over my thoughts about the musical itself. I had filled several pages with my notes on it, even though I had stopped writing about thirty minutes in. 

I noticed a crowd around a door marked Crew and realized that was probably where I needed to go. I tentatively made my way through the crowd. I had almost gotten to the door when a reporter who had been waiting for actual crew members noticed the tag of my lanyard sticking out of my bag and blocked my path.

“K18 News, who did you play?” She asked.

“Ah, nobody… I’m uh… backstage?” I said, moving past her.

She continued to block my path “Any information on the whereabouts of Black, Gladstone and Zhaoqing?” 

“Uh, no.” I lied. Actually, I was pretty sure they were still behind that door. “If you’d excuse me-”

Finally I escaped her and scanned the card for entry.

Entering the room, I found myself face to face with a couple of the most murderous looking background dancers I had ever seen.

      "We already told ya! No backstage access tonight!"

I pulled the pass out of my bag and held it out to them.

     "I'm uh… with Black?"

They rolled their eyes and shot knowing glances at each other.

      "God. Fine. Everybody's back there."

      "Uh, okay..?" 

I stepped through a pair of wooden double doors into a large lounge filled with people.

The room itself was elegant and formal. Red velvet and mahogany furniture, brass trim everywhere. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had told me that it was Victorian. Directly contrasting the decor were the people. They were still dressed in their costumes for the most part, clustered in groups of four or five, laughing at a volume that could only mean they were shitfaced already. Either that or they were lounging on and around the chaise lounges with blunts in their mouths. I glanced around the room, but I didn’t see Black anywhere. I did, however, notice a bar against one wall. I crossed the room and took a seat at the counter. A handsome bartender asked me what I wanted and I asked for something strong.

It had been a while since I’d drank, and when I finished that one, I had another.

Glass in hand, I surveyed the lounge again. A song by Tame Impala was playing as people sat around doing various drugs. Most I recognized, some I didn’t. 

When I was told to come to the cast party, this was honestly not what I expected.

I mean, it's a little shocking to watch a play where a person is a beacon of virtue and light or whatever, a tragic martyr, and then immediately afterwards watch the actress do cocaine off the sleeve of her dress while still in costume. I took a drink and sighed. The doors swung open and Black himself walked through wearing street clothes.

Everyone who wasn’t too incapacitated already cheered. He pretended to be flustered by the applause and covered his face with his hands.

“Aw shucks.” He said. This was met by laughter and he joined a group of the main cast members where he was offered champagne.

I couldn’t help but feel out of place when faced with the tight-knit camaraderie of these people that I didn’t know. I was almost a fly on the wall in a place I wasn’t supposed to be, except I had been invited personally. I found myself wondering why I had been invited in the first place, I mean, surely he didn’t want me writing about beautiful young actresses snorting lines of coke off their sleeves so why..? I shrugged the thought away and took another drink. Realizing it was empty, I called for another. Several drinks later, I’d damn near forgotten my name, but that was fine by me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to face the person and saw that it was Black.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked with a grin.

“Gawd. Tha-thas horrid.” I said, tripping over my words a bit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. couldn’t get any more c-clish…”

“Cliche?”

“Yeah. That.” 

“Ok,” He grinned, “Then it’s your turn. Say something cliche.”

“I’m naht wearin’ any underwear.” I confidently blurted out.

He choked on his drink and stood there coughing for a minute.

"Huh??" He stood there with a drink in his hand, puzzled.

I tried to string some words together in a comprehensible way and failed, so I just gave up. Somebody called Ossory's name and he turned towards the sound.

"Well, nice seein' ya, man." He said, slapping my back in a genial sort of way, "But I'm needed elsewhere."

I think I grunted in response, and he disappeared back into the crowd, as I disappeared back into my Screwdriver.

Bliss, probably. I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was positive or negative anymore. And at that point, I didn't care.

***

Ossory surveyed the aftermath, proud host of a party well run.

“You can tell how good a party was by the amount of vomit on the walls.” He said to nobody in particular.

The only people who were still there were the usual layabouts and druggies. Passed out in positions of varying degrees of comfort and practicality. They knew how to get home, and honestly they deserved to get stranded if they didn’t. Sitting slumped over at the bar was a figure he didn’t immediately recognize. Apon nearing the bar he realized that it was the writer. John or James or whatever. Ossory cleared his throat. No response, other than a soft intake of breath that at least let him know that the guy hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning.

“Hey man, do you have a ride home?” he asked him. 

When he got no answer again, Ossory nudged him and he grunted and opened his eyes.

“An’ his name is Jahn ceeeeeeeeenaaaa….”  He mumbled.

“Hey man, sorry to bother you, but the place is about to be closed up for cleanin’ and-”

“Hrgnnn… fuck.”

“Indeed.” Ossory thought for a second. “Yeah, you’re in no condition to drive.”

John only shrugged in response.

“Have you got someone who can come get ya?”

He shook his head slowly.

Ossory noticed James’s wallet sticking out of his back pocket and grabbed it.

Opening it, he found a driver’s license with his actual name on it, which meant that Ossory wouldn’t have to embarrass himself by asking him what his name was again, and also a family portrait, which he pulled out so he could look at it more closely. It showed a younger Jack with his arm around a young woman and a small child in his arms. Reaching its head up to look at them was a black-furred older puppy, all of them standing under an umbrella on a rainy day. Ossory was transfixed. He’d never really had a family. It just hadn’t really seemed possible for him, all things considered. 

“You have a beautiful family, Mr. Shmidt,” He said, and when Jack didn’t answer, he continued with, “Oh, I could probably call your wife to come get you, would that work?” 

He turned to look at Jack and was shocked to see that he was crying. Tears ran down his face and dripped onto the counter and he stifled a sob with his hand.

Ossory stood there for a minute, unsure of what to say, before taking a seat on the bar stool next to Jack’s.

“Hey, uh-” He tentatively reached out a hand and patted his back in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

This is weird, this is weird, this is really fucking weird. Ossory thought, as he continued to try to comfort the writer, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know, uh…”

Jack made a vaguely speech-like noise then, and he stopped patting to listen.

“Huh?” Ossory said.

“Rain… Bus… f-fog.. I…” Jack said between body shaking sobs.

He probably hasn’t cried in a really long time… Ossory realized. Something horrible happened, and it took getting blackout drunk for him to finally be able to let it out- or… some of it at least.

“Would you like to, uh, talk about it?”

“Cup.” He cried, before passing out again. There was no way Ossory was getting anything else out of him.

Ossory chewed his lip speculatively. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed a number. 

“Hey, Lilly. Can you call a cab for this guy?” He waited for her answer before continuing, “And also, make sure you schedule our next meeting at a bar or somethin’. I need to get him drunk again.” 

Before she had a chance to say anything in response, he hung up and pocketed his phone

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t really care, but something prompted him to learn more about this sad loser’s backstory.

***

I woke up with my face in a puddle of vodka and my employer standing next to me with a mix of pity and impatience on his face.

“You alright?” He asked.

I sat up. There was alcohol in my hair, and on my clothes. If someone struck a match anywhere near me I would probably catch fire. It would be better for me that way, honestly, A fitting end. Burned to death in a hidden theater lounge.

Ossory cleared his throat.

“Ah, yeah,” I answered with a fake ass smile, “I’m great.”

“I called a cab for you a while ago. Should be here pretty soon, but you know how traffic can be.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, but I drove here. I can get home fine.”

He laughed. “Drunk or not, you can’t drive home smelling like you used an entire bottle of vodka as shampoo.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“I learned that the hard way.”

“Ah.”

Our conversation drifted off into awkward silence and it suddenly occurred to me exactly what had just happened. I had gotten blackout drunk at Ossory Black’s cast party and now he pitied my sorry ass enough to pay for my transport home.

“I’m not an alcoholic.” I said.

He looked confused. “I never said you were.”

My head was spinning still and I was dreading standing up because I was sure I would vomit. I didn’t answer.

“Everybody gets shitfaced every now and then,” he continued, “Honestly, if you don’t you’re a stuck up prude and I want nothing to do with you.”

“Ah.”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “So, uh.”

I turned to look at him and was surprised to see that he was struggling to come up with something to say. He looked genuinely concerned and I started to worry about what had happened the night before. I couldn’t remember shit.

“Jack, I…” He paused. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” 

I shrugged.

“Alright. I just wanted to ask about….” He trailed off.

I waited for him to say something but he didn’t.

“What?” I asked, curious now.

“Nevermind. It’s not my place.”

That made me incredibly anxious, but before I had a chance to ask him what the fuck he meant by that, one of the doors opened and a security guard entered the lounge.

“Cabbie’s here.” He said and turned on his heel. The door shut behind him and Ossory turned to face me. 

“That’d be your ride. I’ll have one of my staff bring your vehicle to your home address, if you’d like.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, thanks.”

I got off the barstool too quickly and my head began to spin. I gripped the beveled edge of the counter to steady myself.

“You good, man?”

I shook my head and gagged.

“You have like no liquor tolerance, huh?”

I didn’t answer because I was too busy trying to keep my insides from becoming outsides.

“I mean, half the people here drank more than you did last night.”

Before he could say anything else, I threw up what little I had in my stomach. I had to stand there for a second until my vision cleared. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and cursed.

“I haven’t eaten anything in a while.” I said by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Ossory said. He looked like he wanted to say more but I had already started walking to the door. He didn’t follow me.

Security came through the door again before I was halfway there and informed us that the taxi was about to leave without me.

I started to follow him out, but before I closed the door, I glanced back over my shoulder at the short redheaded actor who seemed almost stranded in the middle of the chaos. He had turned towards the bar and was pouring himself a drink.

“Hey, Ossory?” I called, and he turned around to meet my gaze, “Sorry for party rocking.”

He laughed and I couldn’t help but smile despite my aching head. I closed the door behind me and entered the desolate empty lobby of the theater. With all of the patrons gone, I could clearly see the beautiful architectural details of the interior. I felt almost like a time traveler surrounded by the opulent velvet and mahogany of another time. With reluctance I left the theater. 

The taxi was there as promised, idling by the curb. I took a seat in the back and gave the driver my address. As he pulled out into the street I sighed and propped my chin on my hand.

 That was a fiasco. I could smell vomit still, and honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure if all of it was mine. I looked out the window and saw myself reflected in the glass. The early morning sky was dark enough that I could see my features clearly.

 I looked awful. My tie was loose, my hair was tangled and sticky with drying alcohol, and there were dark circles around my eyes. All pretty normal for me, but definitely not a side of myself I wanted clients to see. Ossory had seen too much of me for my liking. I didn’t even remember much of tonight. I remember sitting down for just one drink and then getting woken up from a drunken stupor by my vaguely irritated client. I groaned. 

I couldn't believe I had been so reckless. I got blackout drunk at a cast party for a play I hadn’t even acted in. Despite what he had said, I couldn’t shake the thought that he had been put off by my behavior. It wasn’t very hard to get on the bad side of an employer, and I’d lost deals over less in the past. My thought process continued down this trajectory the whole ride back, and by the time I arrived I was certain I was going to find a strongly-worded email in my inbox. I climbed the stairs, walked down the hallway, and unlocked my door with apprehension. I gave the dog a pat and went to check my email, but there was nothing there. I breathed a sigh of relief and shut the computer off.

I peeled my liquor soaked clothes off, placing them in a bag so I could get them dry cleaned, assuming they weren’t already ruined, and took a long shower using the last of my shampoo to get the alcohol residue completely out of my hair. When I was done the bathroom smelled like a confusing mix of cheap shampoo and expensive alcohol. I left the door open in the hopes of it airing out eventually and found a pair of sweatpants and an old band tee in my room. I put them on and slumped on the couch, exhausted. The shower had settled my stomach somewhat, but I didn’t really trust myself to not vomit if left unsupervised, so I flicked on the T.V and made some coffee. The news were the strange variety that really only showed up at the witching hours of the night. I came back to the living room with my coffee and sat on the couch. Colin struggled up onto the couch and curled up next to me with his head on my thigh as I watched a barely comprehensible debate between two old men about politics. I stroked the dog’s head and sighed. Maybe it hadn’t been as bad as I thought. I mean, other people were worse. The program on TV ended and a different one came on, and, too comfortable now to get up, I sat through that one too.

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

Thank you for reading through to the end! I really appreciate it :)

If you would like to keep tabs on this project and receive updates, why not give the official blog a follow? Also check out my main blog, @totallylegalmeats

(I post art and smaller updates there!)

[laine-lulu]

Field Notes - Snapshot of Life Reflection to Curator’s Reblog - The Two Elements of Framing and “Doing Theory”:

Above is my field notes I had taken for my page along with the user who looked at my page, and observed it, then picking one picture with tags to go along with the storyline of my page.

For as how I feel about the reblog, I think that the user did a good job describing my page. She didn’t use too much detail, so whoever was viewing the reblog could get a viewpoint of my lifestyle in a straight to the point way. As well as the tags also were an easy way to see what my page was going to present. And the picture chosen does describe my current lifestyle with showing books, my laptop, and some art on the wall, so it was a good pic to represent my page.

As for any negative, I think it was only the title. Though I don’t think that is not on the user, but how I view myself. The title was broad, but when I think of “Day in the Life” I also think of influencer lifestyles and someone who is always hooked onto their phones, sometimes with no real set of what reality is around them. Though I also think it shows me after the description that “Day in the Life” doesn’t always mean posting daily, it could mean posting once in a while maybe something you’ve been doing lately. Like how some might say, “Day in the Life” and it’s just a picture of them at work, or with family and friends. So, it’s also how you view it, and how often your algorithm goes and how long you view something. Day in the life could mean posting daily, or maybe it’s just someone posting about their own lifestyle they keep off the socials most of the time.

For the element of framing. I think it showed me pictures can still tell a story and still be pleasing to one even if they are not in a perfect set angle or perfect aesthetic sense. Like my picture of me at the bus stop from the 25th of January. I thought it looked messy, but I decided to post it because it represented something I was doing as well as something showcasing Oswego. Then when I wrote my field notes the picture connects, we aren’t so puzzled anymore about the background of it. I wrote how I got lost on the bus, hence all the prints from my shoes onto the snow. As well as met someone who was also lost and made a connection, hence the shoes also pictured.

For the element of “doing theory” I think it showed me how much we often don’t grasp in all the details of our lives. We are in a time where we grew up having to always put this time limit or set of regulations on what we do, post. The world has told us we only have this amount of time, which causes two things for us (anxiety and missing taking in information). School setting, we have been learning upon a deadline, so we just focus on the information to an exam, and then after that date, we forget about it. And with media and how we capture things, rather than taking in a moment, we feel we will just post perfectly. We choose filters and presets to make our lives more aesthetically pleasing online, we post so we seem like we are living the life, but we then take away the moment, the memory, and we just have a photo of that because we were to busy focusing on perfection, now does not have connection to it. So, I think in the this assignment we did, it allowed us to actually take a step back, and learn to grasp that memory, to build that connection to whatever we were posting. We were now “thinking about thinking” instead of “thinking and posting”.

Overall this experiment has taught us to take in and grasp your environment and society around you, even if it isn’t perfect, and build that connection, while also taking in new information such as getting intake from what someone sees in an outside view.

[isotherealone]

The 7 things I did to become a model (and you can do too)

Even if I'm petite, late or too big.

Ever since I can utter the first words out of my mouth I always wanted to do artistic and/or fashionable things. I would sit on the couch in front of the TV and watch in awe the Beauty Pageant Shows as Osmel Sousa was qualifying the models, who would win the Pageant and go on to participate and win the Miss Universe competitions.

As a little child I thought I one day will grow tall enough to take the stage and be there myself, it was clear to me: "I want to be pretty and popular in whatever stage I find myself on". However, once I grew up I just never thought about the dreams I had when I was younger. In my mind, I was not good enough for the things I thought about doing back then: I turned out just too small for most modeling agencies to even look my way.

2020 was the year in which I finally woke up from my slumber and said: "I am enough to do, just exactly whatever I want to do." (Or at least, most of it in a certain way)

How did I do it?

I started researching what types of modeling are there, which types suit me, what would I feel comfortable doing? There are several different branches I could go for where it is not required that I am tall or extremely skinny. These categories include but are not limited to: Commercial, product modeling, swimsuit or lingerie. And as I am not nearly 5'9", fashion modeling is not something I could go for (but it is of course in the modeling category) Important thing #1: Make sure to choose something you're comfortably doing.

I signed up to several different photographer/model networks to start creating my portfolio. It was the cheapest, fastest way to acquire a big amount of photos that would serve to show to other possible interested photographers. Important thing #2: Always, ALWAYS, always photoshoot with a contract! Only do shootings on the category you've chosen for yourself (don't do photoshoots you are not interested in/not comfortable with: it's a waste of time and the pictures probably won't even come out nicely if you are not feeling comfortable)

I made my digitals: Simple, clean, white background photos of me in full body, profile and portrait to add to my sedcard (blue jeans, black shirt/alternatively for swimsuit or lingerie modeling I wore a bikini, I did my hair back and wore minimal make-up) It is important to do this to let possible interested photographers or agencies know what you actually look like. Important thing #3: Update your digitals on a regular base, you are supposed to show what you look like currently (not 5 years ago)

I posted half of my portfolio in several different social media accounts on a regular base to increase my reach to not only photographers but also agencies and the general public.

Because I had researched several different agencies but did not find a suitable one for me; after having done 15 or more TFP (Trade for print) photoshoots and gathering some modeling experience I started charging independently by the hour.

Patience is a great virtue. In the end, I didn't apply for any modeling agency, but because of my consistent work I started getting offers from smaller/newer agencies that don't have a height requirement. In this matter, I've had to be very careful of what offers were coming to my table. Important thing #4: You shouldn't have to pay anything to a reputable modeling agency, instead they will be taking a percentage of your earnings. Research what percentage do agencies in your country of residency take on average, make sure the agency you're signing up for is professional, and that it has your best interests in mind.

I signed with an agency that caters to my needs and the categories I want to model in. Last but not least important thing: Do the things that make you happy. Links to start connecting with other photographers/models:

In EU:

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

LOKI,MY LOKI

Summary: Loki learns that all that shine isn't worth it

I am a the airport waiting to go on a well-deserved vacation but I have around 11 hours of waiting in the middle of pairs for my flight in the morning so why not write fanfiction while waiting?

so to be fair: since I wrote it on a whim it wasn't proofread too many times so if there are mistakes am not sorry since this is the only way of keeping me awake.

ENJOY!

The room shone, sure it did, as it was made of gold it should at least do that. The yard-long curtains that shined of the emerald green waved to the gentle wind walking around the spacious place. the maiden walked, their gentle footfalls making as much noise as a drop of water falling into a lake does. The sun decorated its own golden rays on top of it all giving the all-too-known throne room the welcoming glow.

The doors rasp and the print is heard, step so loud it could rival the intense oceans of the far deep. The mix of golden plates and emerald fabric adhered to the body that wore them as he entered, his hair black as crows feathers glistened even the sun not shining its rays on his strands, too afraid of angering the soon to be king. His smile did not show as his mind clouded. As he looked on the throne he watched the decor being laid on top, he saw how many hands were placed with such care that he was starting to question his intention.

Did he want to be king? Of course. Was he missing something? No. But someone? Yes.

With these thoughts he felt a gentle hand on his right shoulder, turning around he already smells the spring water scent he knows too well.

'Mother...' he said with relief

'This day has not been kind on you has it?' she asked knowing all too well what his ache was.

'I think that you already know the answer.' he qued the answer sensing the small pull at his chest.

'i understand where your father is coming for, since having a human and a god would not mend well, but I also understand you my son.' she pauses letting her hand cup her son's cheek 'i know too of the bridge in between of an impossible love. you just have to know your limit of enduring the pain of smoothing you know isn't the one for you.'

Loki at his mother's blue eyes, he saw the tint of sadness he concluded was just sympathy for his pain, it was just in that moment Loki did not know what to do. his first dream was coming true but when he had a loved one that felt much better than anything.

'she-she moved on' he argued with weakness in his brittle voice 'she forgot about me. it IS for the best'

'you think?' his mother quirked and with a span of fingers they vanished, Loki and Frigga. Loki turns to face his mother seeing her stand on a beach watching at the far ocean behind the piles of sand. walking to her he sees a small girl that seems all too familiar to him. he stops and gazes more. as he watched the girl he saw the cocky attitude she was playing with the dog

Stark's offspring?!

the girl not much taller than to his hip laughed as she ran to the dog as a person watched over her.

'Morgan, be careful. Mind Paws as well.'

Loki's mouth unfolds in shock hearing the voice he missed, his Y/n. the lover he held too tight and exchanged for a throne.

'Why are you showing me this?' Loki asked feeling the tortured memories come back again 'this is hard for me as it is.'

Frigga raises her hand moving it from right to the left side, the time quickening and the scene in front of him unfolding all of it ending with y/n sitting next to Morgan. Frigga not minding Loki now she moves closer to them smiling, Loki soon following.

'do you have someone you loved' asked the tiny child who knew only of parental love

'yes, I had someone special. he made me feel good about myself.' y/n answered expecting that she will just leave it at that.

'do you miss them?' morgan pushed more, after all, she was Tony's girl.

'i do but when I do rather than cry, I think about the sweet, happy, love-filled bits we had. in those moments there is pain but it is miniature compared to the love I feel in that moment.'

'do you regret not being with them right now?'

'yes. but in life sometimes people you love too much you can't always keep near you. I am sure that whatever he is doing he is making me proud.'

with the smile that only y/n could emit Loki felt his knees crumble. oh, how foolish was the throne that took away his chance of love?

or did it?

Maybe I should make a prequel? I don't know tell me what you think?

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, forty-six

rowaelin high school bffs au masterlist

AN: We're baaaaack. In case you missed it, chapters will no longer have tag lists (tumblr desktop has decided on limiting the amount of tags to 50 per post, and that just doesn't work for me!). If you want updates, the easiest way is to put this account on notification or subscribe to my A03 page. Alright, without further ado, let's get back to the story!

. . .

Dear Rowan,

Surprise! As I write this, you are in the other room with my dad and Lorcan, trying to do some hundred pushup challenge. And, I had to excuse myself to write this letter to sneak into your bag before you leave tomorrow morning, first because I don’t want to waste a second of time, and second… you might have looked a little too good doing pushups. You’re getting really strong. Do you think you could do a push up with me on your back? I bet after this summer is over you’ll be able to. Sigh. I can’t believe you’re going to be gone the whole summer. I miss you so much already, and you’re not even gone yet. I want to hear every detail of your summer, okay? No detail is too small. And I’ll tell you all about how lifeguarding goes, too. Speaking of, I’ve included a picture of me in my uniform, since you won’t be here to see it in person. I was going to text it to you, but I decided I should print it out so you can keep it next to your bed. That way, any girl who walks into your room will know you are NOT available. I love you, Ro. Write me back ASAP! (I know you can probably call and email, too, but you promised letters!). Sending you a thousand kisses.

xx, Aelin

. . .

Dear Aelin,

Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend? Because you are. Thank you for the letter and the picture. Leaving you in Orynth felt like leaving part of my heart behind, and I love that you thought to send you with me. Plus, that picture? There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe how stunning you are. I can’t believe I’m missing a whole summer of you in that uniform???? Feel free to mail more pictures. It’s a good thing you didn’t text because there is absolutely no cell service here. Apparently, we’re right in the middle of some mountain range, and it makes phone use really spotty. So, I guess it’s good we got this letter sending thing started already. I plan on writing as often as I can, although I’m not sure how much that will be. Our first program event is tonight. We’re going to have evaluations of our playing to see how we’ll be split up into smaller groups for the summer. The schedule is pretty intense. Breakfast at six, lunch at one, and dinner at seven. With practice from 7-1, 2-7, and then gym training from 8-10. I’m tired just thinking about it.

Also, you silly girl, you definitely don’t need to worry about anyone wondering if I’m available. The first thing I did was tell my roommate about you. And there are no girls here. Just an entire floor full of lacrosse-playing dudes. Since the campus is so remote, we’re pretty much the only people here. They’re doing crazy construction here over the summer, so we’re literally some of the only people here. Just us and the construction crew. Haven’t seen another human on campus, and certainly not a female one, haha. But you shouldn’t be worried about that anyway, you know you’re the only person I’ve ever had eyes for. Did you see what I left for you? Your dad promised he’d give the bag of hoodies to you as soon as I left. I hope they bring you a tiny bit of comfort while I’m away. They are ON LOAN, and I’d like them back, though. Okay? Love you a thousand loves. Can’t wait to hear from you. (I want all the mundane details too).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: June 7

. . .

Rowan! Finallllly. Here I was thinking you’d forgotten all about me. Please ignore my last three voicemails when you get them. I was getting stressed that I hadn’t heard from you, even though Aunt Maeve said you were probably just busy and she’d gotten an email from the program director letting the parents all know about the lack of phone use on campus. I can’t believe you don’t have phone service. Do they not have wifi either? What kind of hack college in this training program at? Sorry to be snippy. I just miss you.

I looooove my hoodies, but they’re already losing their scent. Elide has been making fun of me for wearing them every day (because it’s definitely too hot to be wearing a hoodie), but I need them to survive. (It’s extremely cute that you think you’re ever getting them back – sorry, but they’re mine now!).

It’s only been a week, and I feel like I’m going through withdrawals. Every time something happens, I turn to tell you, only to realize you’re not here and getting sad all over again. I did make a list of the most important things to include in my letter though. First, Lorcan officially started his firefighter training! It’s weird going back to the beach and not having him there, but lifeguarding has been pretty fun. The whistle is the absolute best. How did you not tell me how much fun it is to have a whistle??? Second, Rhoe has started letting me practice driving more, and I’m getting SO GOOD! I’m planning on taking the test at the end of the month. Cross your fingers and toes for me, okay? Ugh, and I had more written in my journal to tell you, but I put my iced coffee on the page and can’t read the rest. UGH! This is what I get for having an extra coffee today. I’m sure I’ll remember by our next letter. I await to hear from you with bated breath. Seriously, tell me everything. You’ll have two weeks to tell me about by the time you get this. How’s the dorm, besides having no phone service? The food? Your roommate? Do you have just one or more than one? What small group did you end up getting into? Is the schedule as intense as you thought it’d be? Paint me a picture so I feel like I’m there, please. I miss you so much. I miss your kisses so much. Where are my thousand kisses, huh? I thought you’d send some back. Sending you a thousand more.

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 14

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I’m so sorry for not sending you back kisses. I’m hoarding them and storing up all my kisses to give to you in person. I don’t want to become completely depleted of kisses. What would happen to me then? I’d probably shrivel up and die. Your kisses are the only thing powering me through this week. When they said Lacrosse Intensive, they weren’t messing around. There’s never a moment of the day where I’m not playing, learning strategy or working out. The thought of kissing you is the only thing that keeps me going. Which… all the guys in my group have figured out, and they really enjoy giving me a hard time. It’s my own fault for hanging up that picture of you next to my bed and talking about you nonstop. I should have known better. You look too hot in your lifeguard uniform. It should be illegal. And all the guys know it, too.

Actually, I’d like to send you a blanket apology for ever having to deal with teenage boys. Myself included. We are all disgusting. So, so disgusting. I thought I had a pretty dirty imagination when it came to you, but the stuff these guys say is so much worse than I could possibly have ever come up with. The things that come out of their mouths should never ever be repeated. It turns out living with dudes 24/7 is gross. We’re always hungry or horny, and we smell so bad (the constant training isn’t helping that and the water pressure in our showers is barely a trickle). Please pass my apologies onto Aunt Maeve, too, please.

Okay, I’m sorry to keep this kind of short, but I’ve got to run back to practice. I love you so much.

xoxo, Rowan

PS – Good luck on your drivers test!

Postmarked: June 21

. . .

My dearest Rowan,

You are officially hearing from a licensed driver!!!! Yup, I did it. I passed. On the first try. Everyone is extremely proud of me. (Especially my dad). To celebrate, a bunch of us are going to the drive-in tonight. I get to drive! It’s the Princess Bride. I’m going to spend the entire time quoting it and annoying the crap out of Manon and Elide I’m sure, but I can’t help it. Did I tell you that Manon has started coming to the beach in the skimpiest bikinis I’ve ever seen? She and Elide aren’t back together yet, but if Elide’s staring is any indication, it’s only a matter of time. But for now they’re “friends” who stare at each others’ boobs a lot, haha.

So, you have a dirty imagination when it comes to me, hmmm? I hope you’re taking notes from your camp friends because I wouldn’t mind putting any of that into action. … you are making friends, right? You haven’t mentioned anyone. Should I be worried? know you’re training most of the time, but they’re not all bad, are they?

Speaking of new friends, I’ve been hanging out a lot with Chaol and Dorian? They’re in charge of the snack shack this year, and befriending them has gotten me many a free ice cream sandwich. They’re actually coming to the movie tonight, too. I’ve only really spent time with them in my science classes before now (well, besides that awful Homecoming date with Chaol) – I didn’t realize how funny they are. I know you think Chaol is kind of a stick in the mud, but Dorian is so wild, they balance each other out. And they’ve been friends for just as long as we have, and it’s nice to have someone who understands that. We’ve been having a lot of fun. They’re also the only ones who aren’t sick of me talking about you, too, so I really appreciate that.

Because I talk about you….alllll the time. Every little thing that happens I find some way to relate it back to you. Like, the other day Dorian brought a chocolate pudding cup, and I started laughing hysterically remembering how when we were in middle school you bet me ten bucks I couldn’t eat the whole cup in one bite. I did it successfully, but then you made a funny face, and I snorted and chocolate pudding came out my nose. It hurt so bad, but it was worth it. I can’t believe you still like me after you’ve seen chocolate pudding come out of my nose. Have I mentioned lately that I love you and miss you terribly? Sending you a thousand more kisses (don’t want you to become depleted of kisses!).

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: June 28

. . .

Ace, we’re officially at the halfway mark.

In five weeks, I’ll be back home in Orynth. And honestly, I can’t wait. I didn’t realize how hot the south was. Yesterday was over 115 degrees, and we still trained all day. I fell asleep as soon as I finished in the gym last night. I didn’t even shower (I know, I’m disgusted with myself, too, but I did warn you that this camp was making me more disgusting right?). I did wake up early this morning to get one in before breakfast, but I don’t know why I bothered. It’s already up to 100 degrees and the sun is barely out yet. So… mundane details? The food is pretty solid. Nothing like Maeve’s, of course, but acceptable. Or maybe I’m just so hungry that it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I think I’m going through a growth spurt or something – I’ve never been this hungry in my life. Last night I had three plates of meatloaf. I don’t even like meatloaf!

I laughed extremely hard at your letter. Yes, of course I remember the pudding cup incident. And believe it or not, it made me love you even more. Because you didn’t care about laughing and looking ridiculous in front of me. You’re adorable, even with pudding coming out of your nose. Mm… now I want pudding. See?! Hungry. All the time. I think I have some almonds in my desk. Sorry, that’s not important. Moving on to much more important things.

CONGRATS ON YOUR LICENSE!!!! Can’t wait to have you drive me around for a change ;)

Yes, I am making friends. I actually really like my roommate. His name is Vaughn, and he’s from up north, too. He’s in a pretty serious relationship, too, so we get each other. He’s the only one who hasn’t made a lewd comment about your bathing suit pic. He’s got another friend here from his lacrosse team, Malakai, and we’re all in the same small group, so we hang out a fair amount.

Oh! I forgot to tell you – you’ll never guess who came as a junior coach for the second half of the summer? You really will never guess, so I’ll just tell you. Nox fucking Owens. YEAH! That one. The one responsible for the disaster of last summer. I told him that we were together now, and he didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. He said he always knew you were my girl. Pretty sure I gasped when he said that. Gods, sometimes I think about last year and feel so dumb all over again. Let’s never be that dumb ever again, okay? Pinky promise and seal with a kiss?

Anyway, He played for Rifthold last year, but I guess Antica is trying to recruit him, so he’s testing out their program by helping coach us. I forgot what a good player is. I spent so much of last year irrationally hating him, but he’s actually pretty cool. Shut up, I know you’re laughing at me. I can hear it from here.

So, Manon and Elide are back on? I have to say I’m slightly surprised Lorcan didn’t make a move on Elide when they were broken up. How is he, by the way? He’s been missing from your updates. Is everything okay with you guys? You’re not fighting, are you?

I love you and am sending you back a handful of kisses (can’t give them all away). Halfway, halfway, halfway. We got this. Okay, sending more kisses. I think we both need them.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 5

. . .

Ace, I know I just talked to you today (and I also sent you a letter last week so I’m doubling up), but I had to write to you again. Hearing your voice was absolutely magical. I don’t even care that I missed out on our day at the amusement park (though, I owe Vaughn and Malakai a hundred pushups since I stupidly bet them I wouldn’t be distracted by my phone – I didn’t think there’d actually be service, since we weren’t going that far away from campus!). But, baby, it was completely worth it just to hear you talk. I could have listened to your voice forever.

I still can’t believe you’re driving. Am I even going to recognize you when I come back, seeing you behind the wheel? What car have you been driving? I didn’t even ask. Rhoe’s? Wait, have you been driving my jeep? …I know I said you could, but I kind of meant when I was there so I could see it. The idea of you driving my car is, uh… pretty sexy. And I’d like to be there to see it. Damn it, now I’m imagining it. Yeah. Sexy.

I’m glad you and Lorcan aren’t fighting – although it does kindaaa sound like you’re maybe jealous of him a little bit? (Don’t shoot the messenger!). I think it’s sweet. I know you’re still mad that he grabbed the phone from you, but it was nice to hear him too. It sounds like fire academy is kicking his ass as much as lacrosse is kicking mine. Don’t be too hard on him. He loves you, too, you know. He just shows it in weird ways sometimes… like annoying the crap out of you. It’s nice to know that things aren’t changing THAT much with me gone.

Okay, well, nothing much has happened since I talked to you earlier that I need to update you on. You’re pretty much caught up. I had McDonalds for dinner and feel a little nauseous (it’s been way too long since I had fast food, I forgot how greasy it is, how do you eat that shit?). I hope I’ll be able to sleep tonight, but I honestly feel so wired after talking to you, I’ll probably be up all night thinking about you.

I love you so much, Aelin. I’m so glad you’re having a good summer and not just moping around (I knew you wouldn’t – if anyone around here is going to be moping, it’s definitely me, but I don’t have time to mope unfortunately). Okay, I love you. Did I already say that? Sorry. I can’t help it. I want to say it over and over and over. I love you I love you I love you. Sending you a thousand kisses (I’m all loaded up on your voice so I have extra kisses to send).

Alright, uh… I have a situation I have to go deal with now that I keep thinking about kissing you. Okay, maybe I’m thinking about more than kissing you. Have I told you how much I miss you today? (Kidding, I know I told you about a thousand times).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

ROWAN!!!!

I’m still riding high from hearing your voice today. I honestly can’t believe it – it feels like a dream. When I saw your name flash on my phone I thought for sure I was hallucinating. I can’t tell you how relieved I am that I’m not insane, and that I got to hear all about your summer so far. I’m so glad they finally gave you all a real day off, and I hope you finally went on a few of the rides with the boys instead of letting me talk your ear off. And I know you told me not to apologize, but I feel terrible! You were supposed to have a day off, full of fun!

I love that you are making friends. Vaughn and Malakai sounded extremely nice – you didn’t need to snap at them for giving you a hard time for calling me as soon as you had a bar of phone service. They wanted to hang out with you! I don’t blame them – I wish I could hang out with you, too. Only a month now until you come home.

Lorcan wants me to tell you AGAIN that he’s incredibly offended I haven’t been including him in my letters to you (it’s not my fault that he’s insufferable since he got into the fire academy – all he does is go on runs with my dad and hang out in my kitchen eating us out of house and home! Not the most interesting of updates). Seriously, if someone had told me last year that Lorcan’s new bff would be MY DAD, I would have called them a liar. But they’re almost as inseparable as we are – it’s so annoying. I didn’t ask for an older brother! I’m supposed to be the only child! The favorite! You need to come back and set things right again, okay?

I miss you so much – I didn’t know I could miss someone as much as I miss you. But tonight I’m going to sleep with your voice echoing through my mind, so I know I’ll sleep well. Love you love you love you love you.

SWAK (that means Sealed With A Kiss), Aelin

Postmarked: July 12

. . .

Dear Aelin,

I thought hearing your voice would make me feel better, but getting that small taste of you has sent me into a spiral of hopelessness. I miss you so much more than I thought, and my ability to pretend has run out.

Each morning, I wake, staring at your face, longing for the days to pass quicker, and return to bed feeling even more restless that I can’t smell your shampoo or taste the berry flavor of your chapstick and the faint sweetness of your tongue. I think about all the times I felt your soft skin beneath my fingers, grasping at air and wondering if it wasn’t just some incredibly vivid dream. Your curves live imprinted on the insides of my eyelids, taunting me, knowing I’m too far away to reach them. My imagination runs wild under the cover of darkness, thinking of what lies beneath the thick straps of your lifeguard uniform, and what would happen if they slipped off your shoulder. The memory of your flesh appears and then disappears, the edges blurring until they disappear into a dream-like fog. I’ve lost my grasp.

I am in hell without you – destined to be tortured until the day I can wrap my arms around your waist and pull you against me solidly, and be reassured that you are real, that you are mine. I long to press my lips against the crook of your neck and inhale. When I see you again, I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever.

Three weeks, my love.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: July 19

. . .

Ummmmm…. Ro, as much as I love your flowery words and sexy poetry (which, I really do, more of that please), I know you. What’s really going on? Sorry for the short letter, but I’m running late to work, and your last letter (though beautiful) was deeply concerning. Talk to me, drama queen. What’s up?

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: July 26

. . .

Ace,

How are you so in tune with me that you can read between the lines and get to my core? I wasn’t going to talk about it (because I’m so fucking nervous), but since you called me out, I guess I have no choice, huh?

We’re in the last stretch of camp – which is awesome. I’m so tired and sore, I can’t wait to go home and take a long Epsom salt bath (or maybe recruit you to give me a massage? A man can dream). But, I’m not going to lie, I’ve also gotten pretty damn good at lacrosse. I mean, obviously. That sounds so stupid to say. But, when we do scrimmages, Coach Sartaq has started putting me in the group of strongest players. Even Nox said he’s impressed with my improvement, and he thought I was already pretty good. I guess I didn’t really think about it, but I’ve always been a pretty good player. But now? It’s like… next level. My speed has increased a ton, and my footwork is second nature now. I’ve never really had anything come easily to me before, and it’s weird how much this game feels a part of me now. I always knew I wanted to play in college, but I never really thought about how it would all play out.

Coach Sartaq sat us down and let us know that for our last week of the intensive, he’s invited scouts from all the college lacrosse teams to have a first look at our playing. That means I have coaches coming to watch me play and see if they want me to join their college team. A LOT of them.

I knew that was going to happen at some point – they told me when I agreed to come to the intensive that scouts would be looking at my playing, but they lulled me into a false sense of security with these long ass, hot days and endless practices. My mind became so numb, everything became so routine, and I became so utterly exhausted that I forgot the whole purpose of this camp. Recruitment for college.

I’m kind of freaking out. I wish you were here to calm me down. I know we’ve talked about college a little bit, but this could be THE moment for me, you know? I could come back to Orynth knowing where I’m going to college, with a recruitment letter in my hand. Which is insane to think about. I thought I’d just be sending tape from last season out to the scouts. I didn’t think that they’d come to see me play now. It’s not like I’ve never been watched by scouts before. They came to a few games last season and the season before, but I never knew they were there until after I was finished playing, so I didn’t have time to get in my head about my playing. Now, I’m so far in my head I don’t know that I can see a way out.

What if no one wants me? What if I fuck up my playing because I’m so nervous and I miss my shot to get recruited? What am I going to do if I don’t get recruited? That’s my one shot at college. The restaurant doesn’t make that much. We’re comfortable, but it’s not like she has tons saved for college. If I mess it up, I won’t be able to afford to go. There’s no backup plan. Aunt Maeve has been banking on this. It just feels like a lot of pressure. And then, what about you? What if I get recruited to a college that you hate? What if that’s my only option? Or one really far away? I don’t know why I didn’t spend more time thinking about this. I’m really nervous, Aelin. I know I don’t usually talk about my feelings that much – I didn’t realize how much I had stored up about this until it became a reality. And now the reality is coming closer and closer, and, yeah, I’m just really freaking out.

They’re coming next week. My entire future could be decided NEXT WEEK. So, yeah, I’m fucking terrified. I’d much rather think about how much I miss kissing you than fucking up my entire future. What happens if I fuck everything up?

I wish I could call you. I wasn’t kidding about hearing your voice. It soothes me. I think you’re the only one who can help me when I get like this. I’m trying to imagine what you’d say. Probably something like – don’t be dumb, Ro, you’re being completely irrational! Am I close? Wait, no – maybe something a little more encouraging to follow that up – like, I’ve worked hard and my playing has never been better, and whatever happens happens and we’ll figure it out. Right? If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear you saying it. And I can definitely see you rolling your wide blue eyes at me.

God, I miss your eyes. The picture I have of you doesn’t nearly do them justice (plus, I end up looking at your cleavage a lot more than I should admit – please burn this letter so your dad can never see it). But I miss your eyes. They change color depending on your mood. Did you know that? I can always tell when you’re mad because the yellow ring around your iris gets a little bigger and it flickers like I’m looking at the tendrils of a fire. And when you’re sad, the blue deepens, so it looks almost blue-grey, like a stormy sea. And when you laugh, they’re the clearest turquoise like the tropical waters of the southern continent and the yellow turns almost golden, warmer, like honey. How’s that for poetry? It’s the most I can do right now in my current state of panic, so I hope it’ll do. I promise you’ll get much more in the future. I could wax poetic about you forever.

Okay, I feel slightly calmer just having told you. Thank you for pressing. I love that you know me better than anyone else. That you could tell just through a letter that something was up. Hoarding your kisses until I see you next. I’m going to need them to get through the next two weeks.

I can do this, right? (Lie to me).

Missing you more than I can even say.

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 2

. . .

Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this all by yourself. I wish I could call you and calm you down, but you did a pretty good impression of me. That’s exactly what I would say – eye roll included.

But I wish I could do more. When I got your letter and saw how many pages it was, I nearly fell off my chair. I love you, but you’re not the most talkative human I’ve ever met, and you certainly don’t share your feelings so easily. I’m glad you got it all out (all five pages back and front!). But I have a little bit more to say, so hold on, okay?

You are one of the most amazing, spectacularly talented humans I’ve ever met. You were the only sophomore who made the Varsity lacrosse team, and you were MVP in your junior championship game. You were so talented that you got invited to a super exclusive, fancy shmancy program all summer, and like you said, your skills have only improved since then. You’re going to knock those recruiters all on their butts. They’re going to be fighting hand over foot trying to get you to go to their college. You’re nervous you’re going to blow it? I’m not. I’m nervous that you’re going to come back with multiple offers from the best colleges in the world, each one better than the last. Because you know that’s what’s going to happen, Ro. They’re going to love you. They’re going to be offering you the world to try and get you to go to their school. Just make sure you don’t forget about me when you’re a top college athlete, okay? I knew you when, and I always knew you’d succeed.

I hope this reaches you before the recruiters come so you know I’m crossing all my fingers and toes for you and sending good vibes into the universe (can you feel them?).

Seriously, you’re going to crush it. I’m not worried about you at all. Just take a deep breath and have a good look at my cleavage (heheh) and let all the stress fall away. You got this. TWO THUMBS UP!!!!

And if you need a bit of a distraction, here’s one – Lysandra’s back. I hadn’t seen her all summer, but I ran into her while I was filling up the jeep with gas (yes, I’ve been driving your jeep, I’m sorry, I swear I’m being SO CAREFUL – I just love it so much, it smells like you and Maeve said it was fine!). Anyway, back to Lys. She was there filling up her mom’s Range Rover and totally avoiding eye contact with me, so I wasn’t going to be the first to say anything. I tried reaching out to her and she made it super clear that I was not going to be forgiven, but get this – as she was finishing, she looked up at WAVED at me before getting back into the car. Can you believe it??? She looked okay. She cut her hair, but it looks healthier. She looks healthier. I don’t really know what to make of it all. That’s a positive, right? That she waved? She could have gone on ignoring me, but she didn’t. I’m taking it as a good omen.

We’re going to go into senior year knowing where we’re going to college and surrounded by the best friends, and it’s all going to be perfect and amazing. You’re coming home SO SOON!!!! And then good luck ever having me let you out of my sight again ;)

Remember – I’m thinking of you every moment of every day, and you’re going to rock your final week of camp.

SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!!!

xx, Aelin

Postmarked: August 9

. . .

Dear Aelin,

You were right, per usual. You have a habit of that, hm? This is going to be a short letter because I’m about to hop on a bus back to you, but I couldn’t resist sending one more. This letter thing was pretty fun, but I can’t wait until I can call and text you – I’m going to be blowing up your phone so much, you’re going to have to put me on mute. Just kidding, please don’t do that. I’d be really sad.

Anyway, we’re going to have some things to discuss when I get back because I have some pretty big news. I’m not going to put it in a letter, so you’ll have to wait until you see me face to face, but that’s going to happen before you even get this letter.

I’ll see you TODAY in eight hours. (Longest bus ride everrrrr). I’ll be sure to sleep through the whole thing so I’m awake enough to hang out tonight. Promise.

Love you. Sending you thousands of kisses (I’ll collect when I see you).

xoxo, Rowan

Postmarked: August 16

~*~

[sauroff]

Some personal, not Tolkien related rant below, because sometimes you need to write things in a place where no one you know irl can read them, and this is that place

I have strong anxiety issues. I have had them since I was a kid. They became panic attacks as a teen, and agoraphobia as an adult. Sometimes it's better, some times it's worst. I hasn't been ok for 3 years now, but It has gotten particularly limiting in the past months.

Today there was a local illustration expo near my house. I have agoraphobia, yes, but that means that I prefer open spaces than closed ones when there is people in them. This expo would be full of people, but is a big park with lots of probably mostly quiet spaces to rest from the crowds if needed. It's one of the most accesible expos for me, in terms of acomodations (specially since the weather is still pretty chill). Yet, I couldn't bring myself to go. I love going to those, love finding new artist to follow, buying prints and zines. I had friends participating. Yet, here I am. Knowing full well that staying at home instead of going will only make me feel worst. But not wanting to go through the stress of the whole experience, the back/neck/head ache that will follow because of the tension, the stomach ache, all the ways the anxiety shows in my body. I'm isolating myself pretty hard lately because of this, and probably loosing friendships over it. And my job life is a mess too. I have therapy and medication, but those have their limits too if I don't do my part and put myself out there anyway.

I know it will pass, sooner or later. It has happened before. But it's hard not to be sad about it some times. Like, times passes and there is all this experiences I'm missing because of my fears.

It will pass, though. I can't keep going on forever. It gets better at some point.