#i swear if i get copy righted because of this sound im going to loose my mind

[live-laugh-love-the-archivists]

Something small I made of these blorp creatures.

The first time I saw ouroboros in one of those portals or whatever they are called that they used to move around, I immediately thought of ouroboros, falling face first on someone so casually like it's normal.

Sirius and ouroboros belong to @curseofhyperfixation

[finsterhund]

I take my ADHD meds, this morning, why? Idk I forgot that my doctor said I should only take them when I want to focus on something.

I take weed gummy evening because it is too hot and I thought that it might improve my heat resistance but I stupidly forgot it also does things to my brain. I want to chew things so bad.

I extrapolate the radial perimeter of the possible area where my grandparents farmhouse could be located based on silly little personal anecdotes and geological survey information and by manually cut-copy-pasting the scale index from a map until I get the length I want because I cannot do math. I google the furthest distance the human eye can see before needing to account for the curvature of the Earth. This is the absolute furthest distance that someone in optimal conditions on the open prairie would be able to see. I google the conversion of that into meters because they fucking told me miles for some goddamn reason and because I cannot do math. I make sure the copypasted scale index is that length. Approximately though, because I cannot do math. In order to achieve this I made the map scale index pieces into sizeable chunks that I could keep track of the totaling length of by continuing my trick of cut copy and pasting them in equal length pieces. I put a piece of masking tape on my screen and measure it out so it is that length because I stupidly decided to do all of this in MS paint and I can't rotate my special furthest-human-vision-distance scale index line on an angle. My roommate interrupts me because he wants me to buy doordash and I clench my jaw so hard my teeth make a popping sound. The piece of tape makes it way harder to order from doordash and he changes what he wants after I've already selected it. I take the tape off. I accidentally throw the tape away but not before I fucking cropped my screenshot of the map out of the larger size of screenshot that I no longer need to worry about. I have the goddamn radius. And have a rough estimate of the full radial of possible land. Technically I only need to worry about south and west areas of this circle. not north and east. Because I know that it can only be west or southwest of the one landmark. I now have one quarter of radial section of land where the farmhouse could be located. It is shaped like a piece of pie. Or like the captain health circles from the HUD of Pikmin.

I then derail my entire brain because I'm looking at the map and "hahahaha road go brrrrrrrrrr" and my brain DEMANDS on VIBES ALONE that the little homestead right off of the road (when it go brrrrrrrrr) MUST be the place. Why? I don't fucking know. The Force? Subconscious memory? The Spot Power?

It falls inside the fucking radial quarter though. Jesus fuck. But then my fucking browser crashes and I loose all 38 of relevant tabs containing five different maps. Fucking screaming crying throwing up. I still had my fucking little mspaint documents though thank fuck. So I manually find it all again right at the spot where I was. Then I go to the place where road go brrrrrrrr

So I zoom in and

YEAH FUCK BRO DUDE I THINK ITS THE FUCKING HOUSE IT LOOKS LIKE A HOUSE AND IT HAS TREES WHERE I REMEMBER BEING TREES AND I SWEAR TO FUCK. I MEAN I CANT FUCKING FLY SO I DONT HAVE STRONG MEMORY OF BIRDSEYE VIEW OF THE HOUSE I THINK I SAW A PHOTO OF IT FROM THE AIR LIKE FUCKING ONCE BUT BASED ON THIS TINY ASS GRAINY LITTLE SATELITE IMAGE I FUCKING THINK THATS IT. IM NOT GOING TO ASSUME I KNOW THIS WITHOUT A SHADOW OF A DOUBT BECASUE THE UNIVERFSE LIKES TO FUCK ME SO IM GOING TO TRY AND GIVE FAIR ASSESSMENTS TO OTHER POSSIBLE SITES IN THE DERMINED AREA BUT MAN. HOLY SHIT.

My fucking browser keeps fucking crashing as I write this but turns out the only good thing about Tumblr site updates is that the auto draft feature seems to work. Sometimes. On desktop.

There is food here now but I am focusing 👀👀👀

I really need to eat though I fucking bought this with money not even technically in my bank yet I fucking deserve this wait a minute why the fuck didn't my roommate pay for the food? Also going camping on Monday.

So I think I may have finally found the farmhouse. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I drew it on my phone because my computer crash again

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 27

Chapter title: Clocks Tick and Phones Still Ring

A/n: ....yall im so sorry for how long this took and the fact that not only did it take forever but it fucking sucks. I hate this I'm sorry I can't just here I'm so sorry

First | Previous | Next

words: 2155

summary: Through troubling times Logans mind run wilds trying his best

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol, shooting, crying

Ao3 Link  

Twenty minutes later...

Do you know what you are supposed to do when the love of your life sits pale and barely breathing in a room?

No Im genuinely asking

Because running out of the room and collapsing to sobs on your knees does seem valid however Logan just stood there. He stood there frozen, Barbara knew what to do. She ran to Pattons side, taking his cold hand, silent tears as she examines his soft face. Virgil emerges moments later, the family rule disposed of as he takes Patton's other side.  Roman took the end, and soon the room felt tight, he couldn't breathe.

He wanted to yell

Or cry

Or do anything remarkably human

But he just stood, nurses and doctors rushed by him, his friends talked in whispers of concern.

Why didn't he care?

He could hear the rest of them talking, questions fired at the nurses and doctors, sweet words of encouragement for a speedy and safe recovery for Patton. Telling them how much they care for him, but not Logan. In what seemed like minutes, the rest had decided to give Logan a moment. A moment for what? That was lost on him but alas the room fell quiet.

“This is your own fault, you understand that right?” He finally sets on speaking, not that anything would respond. Unless you count the steady monitor and the wheezes from the machines. “I'm not sure how many times I must clarify this but I'm not Liam. You can tell me things, you can trust me”

He scoffs, his arms crossed over his heart.

“None of us are Liam. You know I don't say ‘I love you’ ok?” He pushes, he can feel his nostrils flare. Do something Patton, respond. “I've only said it to my mothers and you” He glares, why was he just laying there. How dare he? “You took that from me!” He takes a second, breathing deep. “You knew...you knew this was going to happen. You have a will...its reasonable. You have two kids, a sister and assets at your disposal. But they showed it to me, they brought it to me”

He took his copy out, the crumpled and tear stained document felt too heavy.

“I, Patton Hart, residing at 1823 Millow Lane, declare this to be my Will, and I revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.” Logan begins to read, his hands shake noticeably but he continues. “I leave minor children surviving me, my daughter Valerie and son Remus. I appoint as guardian of the person and property of my minor children my partner Logan Tolentino. He shall have custody of my minor children, and shall serve without bond. If he does not qualify or for any reason ceases to serve as guardian, I appoint as successor guardian my sister Barbara Hart.” He finishes, some small part of him almost hopes that Patton awakes. An explanation ready. “This was recent, you knew, you knew something was going on!” He shouts, he tries to recenter but he can't, everything is too much. How was he supposed to handle these things?

“Logan? Everything alright?” A knock allows him to remember he's here.

“M’fine” He lies, and soon it's just him once more. “You changed it, this was clearly recent because I know you. I know that it takes you forever to trust people...although looking back on this unfortunate event you don't trust me. How dare you do this? How dare you not tell me, how dare you turn away from and do this” He rips the paper, watching its remains crumple to the ground “It's not that I can't do it, or won't” He states “Its that I don't want to…” He approaches Patton, finding himself next to the pale faced man. “I don't want to do this without you” He breaks, the anger shatters as his hand meets Patton's cold touch. “Please Patton..” He barely whispers at this point, his heart feels too heavy to be his own. “You do not get to be the love of my life and then die, you do not get to do this to me. Do you understand?”

“Papa?” Logan turns and eyes in horror as the twins, so bubbly and sweet, lose everything about them. Emile bursts through, his eyes and breath apologetic. “What happened...to papa?” Remus cries, Valerie shakes her head.

“Logan I am so sorry, they ju-” Emile begins but Logan sighs.

“It's alright” He assures standing, Emile takes his cue and walks away, leaving the three of them in the room...well four of them, for now. He takes them both in his arms, a breath of relief knowing they exist, knowing they are there and ok. He leads them to the bed, sitting at the end as they fear their place. Valerie squirms first, crawling closer, but alas her hands recoil. Remus has no qualms, he jumps hugging his father.

“Papa wake up please” He begs, his voice so soft. His energy and excitement for the mystery of life is gone. He wanted certainty, he wanted his father. Soon his sad calm aura turned quick to confused anger. “Wake up! Wake up papa! Wake up!” he cries, Valerie's simple tears, as she watched in pity for her brother, were nothing compared to the waterfall. Logan takes the boy, embracing him gently in his arms, soothing him to breathe. Valerie adjusts herself under the blankets, hugging Patton as she tries to mimic his sleep pattern. Logan watches knowing his world is breaking, and he's only got a smidgen of knowledge of what to do.

“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out” Valerie hums, Remus eyes her red and puffed. She continues her gentle tone, and Remus joins her on Patton's other side. Both cozying up to him, simple and sweet tunes until the pair tire themselves out. Sleeping away, Logan sits in the chair, he watches hoping to protect them for a moment before his own eyes fall prey to the idea of rest.

~~~

A week later…

“So we ended up going to the wrong store” Logan explains as he sets up the meal, the children giggle placing the sheet over the table. The hospital had granted them permission to use a table, and set up for meals in Patton's room. “Here you are” He hands plates to Valerie, she juggles them carefully setting them neatly upon the surface.

“Imma go get napkins!” Remus declares, he enjoys the sweet gushes the nurses give him so running through the halls was his favorite pastime.

“He's not gonna come back with napkins” Valerie sighs, continuing to help Logan. He sits by Patton, recalling their day. “Lollipops maybe, but not napkins” She finishes giving Logan his moment to set the food. He had been trying his hardest, help from Roman and Remy was required for cooking. He followed the recipe and tried for a simple mac and cheese today, with some salad and sweet desserts.

“Ready?” Logan asks as Remus emerges with a bundle of his own finds, none of which included his treasure he had set to get.

“Don't forget food for papa” Remus reminds, Valerie nods already chomping into her meal. The twins had insisted they set a place for him every time, serve him food and Logan would wait until he was alone to pack it back up. They knew he wasn't eating it but it was nice. “He's going to be so big and strong when he wakes up”

If he wakes up

“Absolutely” Logan agrees. So they eat and Emile comes to pick them up for a day away, Logan cleans and makes sure everything returns to normal. He can't say he doesn't enjoy the few moments alone, it takes time to go from a solitary routine, to adding a romantic partner and then children.

But he misses the second part more than he cares to admit. He sits at the end of the bed, stroking away Patton's loose hairs, the freezing touch scares him. He moves closer, somehow finding himself exhausted and wrapped around Patton. Its funny, he used to dream of the day's end when he could cuddle up in bed alone, the world was his own. But he hadn't realized how much he missed having someone, Patton, there with him until it was gone. Sleep had been awful, restless, but as soon as he had his protective arms around Patton, making sure he was ok...Logan fell fast.

“Careful Lo, hes just a baby” Patton smiles, swaddling the young child in Logan's arms. The man fears his own breath, the smallest of tears as he watches the young one snore so easily. Patton keeps his arms connected and in this moment they just are, they feel connected. A soft kiss to Logans cheek as footsteps shuffle behind him.

“This is Jamahl, Terrences brother” Cindy introduces, Patton flashes his award winning smile. The boy remains hesitant, keeping his eyes steady on the little child in Logan's arms, he has no choice he thinks. If he wants to keep his brother safe this is his option. So he goes with them.

“Where are we going?” He asks, as the neighborhood finds itself less familiar. Patton looked at him, he insisted on sitting in the back with the children. Keeping an eye on the baby.

“Home” He replies, Jamahl scoffs shaking his head. “My home, and Logans and if you would like it to be...your home” Patton corrects, Jamahl gets a choice? That's new. “Oh I should warn you-”

“Here it comes” The twelve year old sighs, Patton keeps a gentle grin.

“I have two twins at home, they're both five years old.” He pulls out his phone, swiping to show a shining photo of Patton and two young ecstatic children, “Thats Valerie and that's Remus” He points, beaming with pride. Jamahl nods, ok...not as bad. “They're wonderful and...five years old and very excitable so just be wary” He laughs, Logan could never get tired of the sweet sound.

They arrived at the house quickly, and Patton was not wrong to warn the child.

“Im Valerie!” A young girl smiles, shaking his hand vivaciously.

“Im Remus!” The boy greets, a giant hug. Jamahl freezes but allows it to happen, thanking whatever ethereal being let Patton pull the twins off him.

“Remember what I told you humbugs, no touching unless they are comfortable with it ok?” Patton reminds, they nod before waving their goodbyes. They run off and Logan disappears into the hall, coddling the baby. Jamahl looks worried and Patton assures him. “You wanna come see what's going on?”

“Yes please” He nods and finds himself allowing Patton to lead him into the baby room. A bed set up for him as well, he watches Logan be ever so careful with the baby and Patton respect his boundaries. He shrugs.

Maybe this won't be so bad.

~~~

A month later...

“Its your fucking fault!” Logan decides, Emile shushes him backing him up from Virgils heated face. “Everything that is happening is your fault!”

“Logan you're being a dick right now” Remy announces, a glare from Emile quiets him. Logan scoffs kicking the chair underneath him, scaring even Roman.

“And yours too” He points, his nasty finger threatening the detectives. “Why didn't you do anything, day after day he came to you! About Liam! And now because of your fucking negligence, he was too scared to come to you and tell you about these phone calls!”

“You know what Lo? I shouldn't have told you, as of now you have no legal bindings to Patton, so me telling you that we searched his phone and found the phone calls, that was a courtesy” Virgil spits, Logan goes to approach not sure what his next move is but thanks to Roman and James he has no time to figure it out. They command him to sit, calming both parties and get a soothing talk down.

“You know it's his fault Roman” Logan sighs exasperated, Roman nods unsure but doesn't want to to escalate.

“You know what, fuck you Logan!” Virgil screams, Logan stands.

“You're the reason those children are gonna lose their father!” Logan retorts, that catches something. Virgil pushes past Remy, almost landing one on Logan before Roman grabs him, both surprised by how well they fit together. Silly to think about at this moment.

“Maybe if you weren't so fucking cold they would see you as a father” Virgil replies once more, that hurt. Logan won't lie that his knees buckled and he might have fallen right then had Barbara and Marcy not taken him and cared for him. He wants to keep going but a chilling throat clears the room. Instantly they both look to the doctor who stands, judgmental but patient.

“Hes awake”

[curlyshepards]

Look, Pony and Curly have a day, where they have a little mini picnic at Pony's favorite spot to watch a sunset, and then after a while Curly just leans on Pony as Pony starts reading. And at certain points of the book he'll stop Pony and just ask random little questions.

I don’t ship purly but this was super cute and inspired me except I tweaked it a lil bc im a hoe for angst!!!! still, thank you for giving me inspiration after my mental dry spell and I hope you like it regardless!! (also idk if read more will appear for mobile users who follow me so if it doesn’t, I apologize)

It was always the same, this time of year. Never any easierand yet not all the way as bad.

Three years and the brink of winter, the last of autumnshowcasing the ground around them, almost but not-quite-there-yet dead leavescrunching underneath their sprawled bodies. It was only pushing six, but thesun was already beginning to set, casting an orange glow across Ponyboy’s face.

Puberty had hit the kid hard sometime in the middle of highschool. It was almost an overnight change—to Curly, at least. One day he was theCurtis baby, all doe-eyed and lost and vulnerable and helpless after the lossof his best friend and the seemingly never-ending court case. It was unnatural to seetheir kind go before a judge and leave still a free man. Tim had sworn they’dfind something to pin on the kid, yet he walked out innocent. A fuckin’defiance of nature. But then he was Curtis, baby, and his lips were attached tothe junction of Curly’s neck outside of Jay’s diner, where damn near anyonecould see them and hand them their asses. His long fingers gripped his curls,tugged, grinned at the older boy’s startled groan and Curly thought yeah, fuckthat judge, ain’t nothing innocent about this kid.

Ponyboy lets out a content sigh as Curly rests his head onhis lap. Both boys lay on their backs, basking in the last of the sun beforethe nightly breeze set in and Curly would have to fight his boyfriend for hisleather jacket—that was currently serving as Ponyboy’s makeshift pillow—back. Fornow, he was comfortable enough to watch the steady rise and fall of his chestand pretend that things were okay.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Pony mumbles, absentmindedly twirlinghis fingers through Curly’s hair. His voice cracks, all raspy and tired fromthe near hour-long silence that had stretched between them. He never had beenmuch of a talker, that was Curly’s role, but with the changing seasons broughtan even quieter version of himself, more introspective than anything. The firsttime, Curly had tried to get in his mind, tried to get him to talk, tried tofind answers in Darry. But this was Ponyboy and what he didn’t want to give,Curly wouldn’t take. It was better that way. Still, Curly hated that annualwedge being driven between him and his boyfriend.

Curly sighs quietly and reaches up, finding the fingers inhis hair and pulling them away, tangling them together on Pony’s thigh. “Thanksfor letting me.”

Thanks for not pushing me away this time. Thanks for includingme. Thanks for letting me see this side of you. Curly sneers. For better or forworse, right? His words had enough of an edge that they forced a flinch out ofPonyboy. Curly’s eyes are closed, but he can feel his boyfriend retract intohimself and he sighs. “I know it ain’t easy, baby.” Then again, nothing isthese days.

“Just miss ‘im.” Ponyboy gets defensive, like Curly will ripinto the memory of Johnny Cade the moment he gets his hands on it. “Wouldaturned nineteen this year.”

“I know.” And God, does he know. I know you miss him. I know youwere best friends, that he understood you in a way no one else did, was therefor you in a way no one else could have been. I know his death changed you,that the one person who kept you soft was taken away. I know that you lovedhim. Just fucking admit it, it’s killing me inside.

Curly wills the confession like a prayer. But just like God,Ponyboy isn’t listening.  

“Nineteen.” He repeats. “Sometimes I forget he was just akid.”

Kid was a loose term. The guys on their side of the trackshad been forced into maturity a little too early. Legally, yeah, they were justkids back then, but Curly couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt like one.

Curly almost swears, because he’s never been one for heartto hearts and this is foreign territory. But then this was his boyfriend, the boy who’d been on his ass aboutcommunicating and trust and then turns around a few months later just to shuthim the hell out, forcing him into the endless tug-of-war between what he should do and what he wants to do.

“When—” He stops what he should be doing, because he doesn’t know if this is theroute he wants to take, if this will effectively drive his point, if it’s evenworth it anymore. Maybe they could makeout instead, he could just get Ponyboy’smind off of things. The area he’d brought Curly to was secluded enough thatthey hadn’t seen a single living thing since they’d gotten there—unless youcount the bear that Curly swears he saw through the trees, but he won’t bringthat up again unless he wants to start another fight.

Fuck it, he decides, Ponyboy needs to hear this.

“When Dallas died, Tim came to see me out in reform school.Knew it was bad the minute I saw him, he never just visits, you know? There’salways something. But, anyway, wanna know what he said?” Curly opens his eyes to lookat his boyfriend, just to find those green eyes already staring back at him. Soopen and so easy to get lost in. He loses his train of thought and decides tobacktrack, swallowing thickly.

“I was a mess, don’ know why I took it so hard, but I did.Tim did, too, I could see it, but he wouldn’t talk about it. And I said, ‘Whatthe hell do we do now?’ and he gives me that look, you know, like I was anidiot for even asking.” Curly takes another breath. “He said we keep going,because what the hell else can we do? But I don’t think that means we gottamove on, baby, we just gotta keep living for the ones that didn’t.”

He stops there, for good this time, because if he says one more word he mightthrow up, and he thinks if his brother ever heard the goddamn speech that justcame out of his mouth, he’d be sent home with a black eye.

Ponyboy isn’t Tim, though. He’s a far fucking stretch, andinstead of decking him in the face he rubs his thumb along the back of hishand, fingers tightening almost instinctively.

“Tim’s got a way with words.” Pony smirks.

Curly shrugs, “There when you need him to be.”

If Pony disagrees, he doesn’t say it. Instead he leans overto dig in his backpack, pulling out that infamous copy of Gone with the Wind,the one he always carried around with him this time of year, like a bad habithe just can’t break. Its’ pages are crumpled, corners folded and chapters marked.

The book dangles lazily from his hand, pointer finger tuckedalmost possessively between the pages and running along the note written inside.Curly had read it enough times that he could picture the nurse’s mercilessscribble. A dead kid’s soliloquy.

If it had been Curly up in that hospital bed, skin blisteredto hell, he doubts he would have wasted some of his last breaths on a note likethat. He’d focus on the important things, not making sure Dallas Winston wouldwatch a sunset in honor of his death. He didn’t understand the depths of it, probablynever would, but he racked that up to just being Ponyboy and Johnny.

“Johnny let me read this to him back in Windrixville.” There’sa small smile on Pony’s face. His eyes, though, are distant, filled withexhaustion that seems too heavy for a seventeen-year-old. “Knew it was one ofmy favorites, and it helped pass the time. Sometimes I’d try to get him toread, but he didn’t like it real much, so it was usually me.”

Pony flips through the pages and Curly watches. He noticesthat the first half of the book is worse off than the other, like he’d never quitebeen able to get that far, always stopping before it’s supposed to be over. And people might call Curly an idiot, but the irony wasn’t lost on him.

He shifts so that his head is on Ponyboy’s stomach. Thesky is a soft orange by now, and it’ll be dark real soon, but he decides hewants one more thing before they leave.

“Read it to me.”

It’s not a question or a request, but Pony knows that if hedoesn’t want to then he doesn’t have to. And Curly thinks, even just for asecond, that he’d have every right to refuse. Instead Pony just tilts his headto the side, looking at the curly haired boy close his eyes. “You said booksain’t your thing.”

“They ain’t,” Curly replies, wishing his boyfriend wasn’tsuch a know-it-all. It’s a disease, he swears, but he smirks nonetheless andpeeks an eye open at Ponyboy, “But you are.”  

Seconds pass and it’s quiet between them, long enough thatCurly starts doubting himself. Maybe he had stepped too far, maybe this was asentiment he’d do just fine staying out of, maybe he needs to learn thatwhatever it was between Ponyboy and Johnny, whether something was there or it’sall just his own jealousy, he needs to let go. Because he’s the one here, afterall. Picking up the pieces of a boy that Cade had left behind.

But then Ponyboy is smiling. It’s small and shy but it’sthere and every thought of Johnny flees his mind. Curly pushes himself up on anelbow and leans over, pressing his lips to Pony’s in a soft kiss. They part andtheir foreheads press together, the smile still on his boyfriend’s face as hegives a small nod.

“Yeah, okay.”

Curly grins in response, gives in to the urge of one morekiss before laying his head back down, settling himself in for the story.

They spend what little time of sunlight left reading, Pony’smelodic voice flowing through the air. Curly, for the most part, keeps quiet,only butting in when he doesn’t understand a word—The hell’s that mean?—or wantshim to repeat something simply because he likes the way it sounds coming out ofPonyboy’s mouth.

Neither of them speak after the reading stops, choosinginstead to lay there in silence through the better half of the night. It’s notCurly’s usual scene, but it’s something Ponyboy needs, and he reckons it reallycould be worse.

And, even if it’s for a brief second, he wonders if DallasWinston ever had someone to show him a sunset.  

[pepprs]

[DONT RB] ok so there’s no way for me to talk abt this that isn’t gonna make me look like an absolute dumbass but im in the middle of a creative existential crisis and i rly need help figuring it out :•( this is gonna get SUPER LONG so im putting it under a readmore. thank u to anyone who reads this!!! and double thank u to anyone who can give some input / advice, i rly rly appreciate it. im sorry abt the length!

aight so for some background.... ive been drawing n writing poetry for abt 5 yrs now and both of those things r rly important to me. in school im an english major w a creative writing minor (for the poetry) and i work as a graphic designer (for the art) so ive been growing a lot as an artist and writer esp in the past 2 yrs and im kinda workin towards one or the other (or ideally both somehow!) as a career. one of the biggest dreams ive had since i started seriously pursuing both of these hobbies 5 yrs ago is to publish a book of poetry that i design / illustrate myself, and also to have a portfolio online where ppl can read all of my poetry and see all of my artwork (both professional / work stuff but also archives of all of my sketchbooks since those r rly important to me!!!) and maybe even make some sort of online shop where ppl can buy my art (stickers, keychains, etc!) and my poetry books!

that sounds pretty simple right? WRONG!!!!!! why? bc im a fucking idiot! and there are several dumb things i do that make this dream completely impossible for me to achieve! love that for me!

so for starters... ive been posting (almost) all of my art and ALL of my poetry online for all 5 yrs ive been creating it. that’s bad because:

ive hardly ever used my real name (which i would want to use for the book / shop / portfolio), it’s been under my usernames / aliases that go along w them (p*pe, pep, pea, etc and related usernames that shall not be mentioned) and i started going by my real first name only abt a yr ago, but still maintain those usernames for the most part in conjunction w my real name

my work has been primarily been posted to d*viantart and tumblr which aren’t exactly the most uh... professional places to do that. not that there rly are many i guess lmao but still

my online persona on these platforms is rly like. lax and loose which is Cool And Quirky when brought into a professional setting if it’s done right i guess.... but im just immature and unprofessional. i swear all the time, i shitpost constantly, im incessantly tmi? and that’s not even it like it’s just a whole mess!

SO there’s that whole set of problems and like im just concerned because... i stopped posting art online last yr for the most part and a lot of the old stuff that’s on dA (since that was rly where i did it most) is bad and not worth sharing like that anyways, so im not as worried abt that. but my poetry.... i still actively post that online in all my messiness and candidness here and like. it’s rly not that hard to find me? like if u copy a poem of mine and put it in google it’ll pull up my dA right away! and that’s like.... GOD i just am embarrassed for anyone irl to see that or for that to be connected with my irl / professional self in the future, but i don’t want to stop posting my work there (or here!!!!!) bc the community is so supportive and ive made some rly good connections / built a lot of traction over the 5 yrs ive been doing it. (PLUS for the online portfolio i wanna do specifically... i kinda want to post all of my art and poetry there, like everything ive ever done (specifically poetry, ive written almost 500 poems over the 5 yrs ive been doing it!), but i feel like that’s not rly the most professional thing to do and idk how to even gauge whether it is or not :-/)

but that’s not all!!!! because there’s another part to this and that is: the very nature of the content i produce is Not Good! for my art it’s not as much of a problem bc since I work as an artist rn a lot of what i make is professional, but for my personal art... a lot of that is either self portraits or my characters and a lot of my characters are like. animals. like specifically pepe (who is basically Me As A Cat).... i draw her constantly and so much of my best work is of her but it’s just like? embarrassing i guess for my ocs to take up so much of my portfolio and sketchbooks and stuff and share that. like i know everyone has characters and it’s not bad to do that and share that but i feel like ppl will judge me :-( so it’s made me rly hesitant to post stuff to my art ig for example bc i just don’t fucking know how to act, like it’s bad enough that i can’t type the way i want to and i have to type in proper caps n whatever instead bc irls i don’t know / trust as well follow me (including some ppl from work? Yikes?)....... but i feel like i can’t share my sketchbook stuff for example bc it’s all cats and my characters and visual shitposts and im uncomfy to share that bc like... im almost 20 and i don’t want ppl to think im immature or whatever? i kno i should feel like it’s my account and i can post wot i want but like. i fucking can’t bro i just can’t!!

and THEN.... my poetry. that’s the biggie bc like for my art? even tho im uncomfortable i don’t mind sharing that w ppl i know irl but for my POETRY.... it’s very easy to find like where i share that i guess? (the google thing i mentioned earlier but also its linked to my art on here and dA too... f) but i literally never actively share my writing w irl ppl unless im performing @ an open mic or workshopping in class bc im fucking terrified of the possibility of irl ppl finding my poetry. it’s almost ironic how public ive been w it online but how private i am abt it irl... it’s like im living a double life and it’s fucking terrible but it’s the only way i feel safe. bc like art is what i do for other ppl and also to destress and vent when i need a quick fix on my own time. but poetry.... that’s personal, it’s where i feel most like myself, it’s how i talk abt my life and ppl in it and make meaning of things and talk abt things authentically and Get Deep. and my literal worst nightmare is for ppl (who have the explicit ability to by virtue of Knowing Me) to read into it and Understand what im talking abt and have that power over me and see me differently for feeling the way i do or doing what i do. ive actually already been burned by this before after my mom read some work of mine that had been published irl (i don’t want to get too into it but basically i retroactively outed myself thru her reading that poem for what it was and it was Very Very Bad) and as paranoid abt it as i was before, it’s even worse now that it’s actually happened to me and could happen again at any time, esp if i decide to take my work further.

that manifests in a few ways too, like my writing is so cryptic and vague and very heavy on metaphors / symbolism and shit partially out of that deep fear and need to shield myself and my work. sometimes in spaces where i do feel comfy sharing, ppl have a hard time understanding my poetry unless i give context. online and on stage and in workshop ppl don’t rly know me outside of a context where the only thing we have in common is self expression thru poetry, so i don’t rly mind sharing more when it’s appropriate. but if i were to share my work as a book or w/e, ppl im close to (who maybe don’t always think like a poet / artist does bc they aren’t that) would want to buy it and read it and might ask abt what it means and i don’t even know what i would do in that situation. and if ppl were to read my work and see themselves / others in it, whether it is abt them or not, im scared it could genuinely damage relationships like it did with my mom.

SO UH.... idk where im going w this rly, i kno it’s long and rambly and melodramatic and im probably overthinking it and making a mountain out of a molehill and nobody even knows / cares abt me AND my work @ the same time enough to read That Deep into it. but it just fucking sucks that im so uncomfortable and insecure that i can’t comfortably fulfill literally the one single long term goal / life dream that i have. andthe thing that sucks is i can’t talk to Anybody abt this except like... my sister and brother bc they’re the only ppl i genuinely tell everything to, but they don’t have the knowledge and expertise abt art / poetry that like... my poetry prof does, for example. and my poetry prof is one of the best ppl ive ever met and the Only person ive ever met irl who respects and understands my poetry in the exact way i need someone to. she and i have been talking and she rly wants to help me publish my poetry bc she sees merit in my work and knows how bad i want to / how successful it’s been already, but i don’t know how to talk abt this to her bc im embarrassed to tell her abt posting online and being ashamed abt my muses and all that and it just!!! sucks so much bc i kinda want to publish my work @ least once before i graduate and do it semi regularly for the rest of my life? but there’s so much in my way and it’s just! FGGFHDGJGGGG

[the-no-good-moonite]

cortana, find “how to remove STD”

So yeah here’s my thoughts on Star Trek Discovery as of the ninth episode:

its ugly, sounds like trash, is terribly badly written and probably smells weird if in a physical format

but allow me to elaborate a bit a lot

the sound and visuals are the smaller problem admittedly; I like plenty of things that looked arse when they were first made and look like double arse now, so if the writing wasn’t so bad I would be willing to accept this as a flaw of the series and concentrate on the rest of it. as it stands...

the music just kind of being “there” is nothing new (see: large chunks of the other series), but it’s still disappointing. the sound design being terrible on top of that? that’s trash. nearly every time a ship opens fire we get minor variations on generic and ill-fitting turbolaser sounds... I mean come the fuck on. you don’t want to be restricted by tradition, go nuts, but if that’s the best you’ve got to offer you shouldn’t have 

(I realise that choice is likely a result of a directive from on high and not entirely the sound team’s doing, but it’s still executed poorly)

as for art direction... well, John Eaves is a very poor choice for how much they’re giving to him (most of starfleet it looks like? not sure who’s doing the klingons but what little I can see of them isn’t impressing me either). I don’t hate his stuff outright like some people do, but he’s very “safe” and has exactly one aesthetic that has worn out for me and compares badly to what they’re making it contemporary to here

the art direction in general is quite bad though - there’s so much nebulous shit that glows blue in the same kind of way that it legitimately confuses as to whether or not it is the same thing - and the way it’s all shot is boring and unremarkable at best. 

(and oh look, it’s another trek villain who has a colour scheme of mostly metals and neon green. get the fuck out of here)

the... space fight choreography (not sure what else to call it?) is absolutely the worst part though, it’s almost claustrophobic, everything’s jammed together like it happening in a bloody fish tank. the camera has no great desire to give us a clear view of what’s happening, or of any object other than the discovery and the ship of the dead. they almost appear to be going out of their way to avoid giving a clear look at anything else, which makes me think they’re not being given the time or budget to make models that will withstand close examination... which would be expected, but still laughable as ever

the spore drive and all the effects associated with it are ugly as sin and conceptually terrible also; I will accept no dissent on this point

sets and props are kinda “eh”, but i’ve not seen anything overtly wobble, and that’s apparently the only metric that matters so uh, good job there

so! the writing. the horrible, horrible writing.

I’m going to mostly ignore the actual dialog here, because while it is deserving of flak, it’s mostly stock phrases and interactions you’ve seen significantly better or worse versions of. so not a lot to actually say about it. I don’t like much of it and the attempts at humour are pretty lame.

what I take issue with is the overall construction of it... like they’re doing a “maybe the federation isn’t right about how it does things?” kind of thing and im onboard with that, asking questions on if the federation is really what it presents itself as has potential. but they’re not actually asking any specific questions.

and this kind of attitude pervades the whole show; there’s vague noises about stuff - maybe both sides are wrong - or whatever and the odd “aren’t we explorers?” but ultimately the show has little to no opinion on any of it (or doesn’t yet anyway), just making enough of an effort to try and get you to think it does, and then let you fill in the answer you agree with most... 

if it sounds like im leading in to a “intellectually hollow centrist liberal” kind of comparison, you fucking bet I am, because that’s pretty much what it feels like to me

I mean I expect someone’s going to try and claim they’re just going for moral ambiguity, but I struggle to think of many actual examples of that in anything, and it DEFINITELY looses any claim to such when you have characters being told that actually no, Their War Crimes Were Entirely Justified and then nobody says any different

(star trek has no substantive claim on moral consistency, but that’s just fucking indefensible, and it shouldn’t be left even slightly ambiguous if Lorca was in the right for saying that. which is kind of a recurring problem with that character, contradictory as that may appear for me to say that right after my previous comment...)

then you’ve got the portrayal of the klingons as man-eating space orks... who are doing a holy war... even if that didn’t conflict horribly with the (for star trek) more complex portrayals of klingons in the past, on it’s own it feels like it’s undermining the claims to progressiveness  just a little bit 

(well it’s part holy war and part MQGA [Make Qo'noS Great Again] but you know what I mean)

and plotwise now we’re doing... voyager? maybe in the mirror universe? I don’t know. I guess they won’t stick with it for long enough to redo voyager’s worst mistakes but why am I having SG:U flashbacks all of a sudden

funnily enough I actually like SG:U more than discovery, though that may be partly not having watched it since it aired

lost my train of thought here, uh, characters bad?

or some characters bad anyway. I like maybe half of them to some degree actually, despite the dialog and how inconsistent the portrayal of nearly everyone is in between - or within - any episode (another old problem for trek, but it’s really grating with the format here)

there’s plenty to criticise though; i’m really unsure the writers have any clear idea of what Tilly’s “deal” is (only socially awkward? on a spectrum? just “weird”? who can say!) or if Stamets is an asshole or a just good-hearted grump... there’s other things like that. maybe they’ve detailed stuff in interviews, but the show itself is terrible at communicating any clear intent

but Michael and Voq’s fake personality Ash are definitely the worst characters, so i’ll focus on them

I will maintain that Michael’s backstory is rubbish, making her Spock’s secret sister is amazingly unnecessary rubbish. on top of that, we’re told she’s a top of the line member of starfleet which is then immediately undercut by her doing something stupid and reckless that almost gets her killed (after which she then presumably irradiates everything between sickbay and the bridge...) followed by doing something stupid and reckless that gets a lot of people killed and starts a war! this is arguably the most prominent trait of the character

she kind of comes off as a suicidal maniac, is my point.  Captain Georgiou is quick to jump to a suicidal option too (and im just gonna say... most prominent asian person in the series to date... suggests a suicide attack...) 

does this version of starfleet just not do psych tests until you hit admiral? of the two that have actually done things we’ve had two walk into obvious traps, but one of them seems comparatively well adjusted

anyway, so we’ve got Michael, a pet character of some writer who changes personality every other scene and totally not Voq, we swear and Ash. who is about the most blandly likeable love interest possible, and definitely Voq infiltrating starfleet, how long are they gonna drag this secret cylon constructed memories bullshit out just bloody kill me already and also a survivor of sexual abuse (and torture) with PTSD. 

they heavily implied this was the case when they introduced the character, and then in episode 9 it was confirmed explicitly by the character in question... that’s all fine, feels like a bit of a cheap grab so they can be a “mature“ story but let’s see how it plays out... and oh.

they went and showed (what was framed as but aren’t necessarily) the events in question. this is, at best, tasteless and inappropriate

now, i’m not going to say they’re going to handle this in the worst way possible, but what they’ve done so far is making me really fucking uncomfortable! I do not have faith that this will resolve even remotely well

and then there’s the whole thing where his memories are likely 100% manufactured as cover, which has a good chance of giving this whole situation an unpleasant taste all on it’s own

I also really had no need to see these new klingons naked anyway, or any naked klingon really, and in context cable drama nudity is absolutely the worst thing they could’ve copied from game of thrones without thinking about it

anyway, that’s [however many, I don’t want to check] badly formatted and often grammatically incorrect words to say: 

The show is bad. You disagree? Ok. I disagree with you. Now nobody is happy. I would prefer to be happy. I am not.

Goodnight.