#it was more daunting to do it that way before when I had like 60 drafts but at 30?? I'm kinda just chillin suddenly idek

[byanyan]

don't u love that I went from working oldest to newest on my drafts to working newest to oldest?

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 60)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

"Actually, I am sorry, but I should get some sleep. I am heading back to Dublin tomorrow after filming ," he said catching a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"That's okay Cill. Maybe next time? I am back on set in two weeks and we could have that drink then," Annabelle  replied, trying to hide her disappointment.

Cillian couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He knew that he had led her on, but he couldn't bring himself to cross the line with her. Not when there was still a chance that he could work things out with you one day. Despite, the attraction he felt towards her was literally zero, so

he knew that he couldn't let himself fall down that rabbit hole, especially when there was a child involved.

With that, Cillian said his goodbyes, and headed back to his apartment before, on the following day, after a busy day on set, he took the last plane home to Dublin, arriving at around 11 o'clock that night.

He was excited to see Mara tomorrow and did not yet know that she had been quite unsettled all day when she was with you. As usual, he ignored your calls and you refused to message him if this was how he wanted things to be.

Despite, you figured that Mara just had a cold. It wasn't the first time she got sick and ran a fever, and you knew it was just a matter of monitoring her condition and making sure she got enough rest.

By the late evening, her fever had gone down, and she was sleeping soundly until, sometime around one o'clock that night, her coughing woke you up.

It was loud and unlike anything you have ever heard before. It was almost like a deep bark, combined with the sound a small dog would make, only amplified. You immediately got up from your bed and went straight to her, holding her in your arms.

By the time you jolted towards her, she was crying inconsolably. Her tiny little body racked with shivers and the cough became worse pretty quickly. 

It was clear that this wasn't just a run-of-the-mill cold. Panicked, you quickly scooped Mara up and called your mother who, expectedly, did not answer. 

While you tried ringing your mother, Mara's cough got better again before picking up once more. This time, it was even louder than before and you contemplated driving her to the hospital. 

You had no idea what was wrong with Mara and, in your frantic state, you couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenarios. You tried to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths and repeating positive affirmations, but it was proving to be a daunting task.

In the end, and in your state of panic, you tried to call Cillian who seemed to be much calmer in situations like this. When Mara hurt herself on the playground, he was the one who calmed you down but now, with the way things were between you, you only dialed his number reluctantly.

It rang several times before he picked up, confused and tired. "Fuck Y/N, it's one o'clock. Is everything alright?" he murmured into the phone, already fearing that something was wrong since, usually, you wouldn't call him at this hour.

"Cillian, I-I'm sorry to call so late, but Mara, she's-she's sick and I don't know what to do," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to get the words out.

"Y/N, you need to calm down," Cillian said, his tone immediately changing from groggy to alert. "What's wrong with her?" he then wanted to know while Mara started coughing again in the background.

"She has a high fever and she's been coughing a lot. It sounds really bad, Cillian,"  you replied, your voice shaking as you tried to stay calm for Mara's sake.

There was a brief pause, and when Cillian spoke again, his voice was filled with concern. "I'll come over," he then said, already getting dressed and running down the stairs of his house. "It sounds like she has croup," he continued, as he unlocked his car and you did not know what he was talking about.

"What?" you  mumbled, confusion clouding your already panicked mind.

"Croup," Cillian repeated, as he started the engine of his car. "Max used to get it too when he was younger.  I will be there in a sec,"  he said, already on his way.

Meanwhile, you held Mara tightly, trying to comfort her as best as you could. Her body trembled with every cough and her color looked drained. The look in her eyes was one of fear and confusion, making it harder for you to maintain your composure.

When Cillian arrived two minutes later, you already walked to the door, hearing his car pull up in the driveway. You opened the door, not bothering with formal greetings, as Mara coughed loudly.

"She's been doing this for the past half hour, and I tried to give her medicine to bring down her fever but, it's still really high," you acted out your worried expression to show him, pulling Mara closer to you.

"Dada," she moaned, her little voice barely audible above the harshness of her coughs. The sight of her in distress pierced Cillian's heart and a raw, primal protectiveness surged through him, filling him with determination to do whatever it took to make her feel better.

"Let me take her," he said, reaching for Mara, but you hesitated. "She's defiantly got croup. She sounds exactly what Max used  to sound like when he had it," Cillian repeated, as he held Mara tightly in his arms, trying to soothe her by gently rubbing circles on her back. He could feel her little body shaking from the force of her coughs, and his heart ached at the sight of her looking so small and helpless.

"What's croup?" you asked, your mind whirling with questions and fears for your daughter's health. Cillian looked at you, a steady gaze in his eyes as if trying to reassure you with his presence alone.

"It's just a shitty cough some kids get when they are sick," he answered, softly. "I've been through this before with Max, too many times actually. He used to get it once every two months," Cillian explained before carrying Mara upstairs and you followed him quickly. 

He held Mara tightly in his arms while walking into the bathroom and turning the shower on to full steam. 

"What are you doing?" you  asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched Cillian turn on the shower and make the bathroom fill with steam.

"The steam helps," he barely said before kicking off his shoes and helping Mara out of her Pjs, leaving her in her nappy only while she cried and coughed.  He stepped into the shower with her, making sure she was warm and didn't get too wet.

Cillian knew this would help soothe Mara's swollen airways and help her breathe more easily. He had watched Danielle do the same thing with Max before and as he sat down on the shower floor with her, fully clothed himself, rocking her gently, you couldn't help but calm down.

"Shh, it's alright baby," he murmured softly, running his free hand through her fine, golden hair while he maneuvered to keep the water away from her face with another hand. Mara let out a weak cry, momentarily quieting down only to resume coughing again a few seconds later.

The cough, however, took on a different tone. It was gentler , more subdued. Mara settled down into Cillian's arms, her tiny frame fitting perfectly against his own. Cillian held her fiercely, gratitude washing over him as he realized just how much he loved this child. He loved her beyond all measure, more than any person or thing he had ever encountered in his life.

"Do you have ibuprofen or paracetamol?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Yes, I have both," you replied, your voice filled with relief. "She had paracetamol four hours ago though, so I will get some iboprofen. I will be right back,"  you said before heading towards the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinet for the medicine. When you returned to the bathroom, Cillian was holding Mara still, the steam surrounding her as she sat on his lap and you couldn't help but marvel at how powerful and protective he looked beside the vulnerable little figure of your daughter.

You handed the cup of ibuprofen to Cillian who tried hard to convince Mara to take it. She shook her head and whined until, finally, she took the spoonful from Cillian and swallowed it reluctantly. You counted the minutes, watching as Mara's cough subsided little by little, her breaths growing steadier and her fever gradually decreasing.

By the point she fell asleep, Cillian was drenched and stood up, handing her to you, wrapped up in a towel.  He looked exhausted but had a small, tired smile on his lips when he handed her to you. 

"She'll be okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and you suddenly began to cry, which was something he did not expect.

"Y/N, I said she will be okay. What's wrong?"  Cillian asked, concern etched on his face as he looked at you. You were standing there in the bathroom, holding Mara who was now fast asleep in your arms. Your body was shaking with silent sobs and your eyes were overflowing with tears.

You were overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with relief that Mara was okay, overwhelmed with gratitude for Cillian and his help, overwhelmed with emotions that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Nothing, I just...I am fucking useless at this," you said in a small voice, your shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

Cillian frowned, taking a step closer to you. "No, you're not," he said, reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder. 

"Yes I am. I mean look at us. I had to call you because I did not know what to do and you knew exactly what she needed. I am a shit mother," you said, the tears streaming down your face.

"That's not true," Cillian said, moving closer towards you and caressing Mara's hair, soothing her some more. "In fact, I think you are the most amazing mother there is, doing all those things you do for her on your own most days," Cillian said, looking you straight in the eyes, willing you to believe him. "Plus, the only reason I knew what to do was because I lived through this already with Max. I took him to the ER the first time he coughed like this and being a paranoid parent is normal. It's good. It's natural to worry, you know," Cillian said, his soothing voice echoing through the bathroom. 

"Thanks Cillian, but I don't know. Some days I feel like a failure  as a mother," you whispered, still gripping Mara tight against your breast.

Instinctively, Cillian moved closer and gave you a warm, comforting hug without disturbing his sleeping daughter in your arms. "You're not a failure, Y/N. Don't talk that way," he said, looking into your eyes with a tight-lipped smile. You eased back into him, slowly relaxing as his arms encircled you. "Look, you did everything right. You noticed Mara was sick and you called," he reassured you before pulling away and clearing his throat.

"I should probably head back home now though," he then  said, taking a step away from you.

"No, please stay. I don't want to be alone. Not after this scare," you replied, your voice soft and pleading as you looked up at him, hope gleaming in your eyes.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, torn between what he should do and what you were asking him to. 

"Okay," he eventually said, his voice barely audible as he made up his mind. "I'll stay," he told you and you nodded quickly.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I will just put Mara down and then get you some dry clothes, okay?" you suggested, seeing how you still had half a shelf full of Cillian's stuff, sitting in the guestroom. 

"Sure," Cillian agreed, nodding his head in acceptance before drying himself off a little while you carried Mara upstairs and placed her gently into the spare cot in your bedroom, so that she would be close by. 

You then gathered a t-shirt and pair of boxers from the guest room and  handed them to Cillian who changed quickly.

Despite your initial hesitation, having Cillian around brought a sense of comfort that you hadn't realized you were missing.

Together, you sat in the living room for a moment, calming down and basking in the silence that surrounded you after the chaos earlier. Then, you decided to return to bed, and Cillian followed you up, taking a book from the shelf in the guest room and resting it on the nightstand beside his side of the bed.

Despite feeling exhausted from his busy day, Cillian knew that sleep wouldn't come easily tonight as he was being in your house again, which was something he had tried to avoid.  He sighed and looked at the time on his phone. It was already 3 in the morning, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest.

On one hand, he was relieved that Mara was okay, and her condition had improved significantly after the steam treatment earlier. However, on the other hand, Cillian couldn't help but feel a mix of guilt and frustration over how things had unfolded between you in recent times. 

The following morning, after as little as five hours of sleep, you woke to the smell  of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft footsteps coming from the kitchen.

Cillian was already up, busy baking pancakes and when you turned over, you noticed that Mara was gone from her cot. 

You had heard her about an hour ago, but thought she had gone back to sleep, which was obviously not the case, so you got up and made your way downstairs.

"Mummy is up I think," Cillian  called from the kitchen as you entered and Mara smiled, calling out 'mama'. 

"I didn't realize you got her up?" you asked, a little tired and confused and Cillian explained to you that he came in to check on her,  realizing that she was wide awake and seemingly remained quiet to let you sleep.

"She's just been sitting in her cot, playing with Gigi Giraffe," Cillian added, smiling softly at Mara who giggled at his words.

"Gigi" she repeated and you felt your heart swell with warmth at the sight of the two of them together and couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's presence. It was nice to have someone else to share the responsibility of taking care of Mara with, especially after the scare from last night.

"Thank you for last night Cillian. I really needed you here," you said, sincerely. And you meant it.

"It's fine Y/N. Honestly," he responded as you made your way towards Mara, hugging her tightly from behind and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her golden curls tickled your nose and the smell of baby shampoo and clean laundry overwhelmed your senses.

The sense of gratitude shifted inside of you, turning into a warm, fuzzy feeling that you recognized as happiness.

As you let go of Mara, you turned to Cillian who was still standing next to the kitchen counter, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"I don't know how good these pancakes will taste, but hey, I did make them from scratch," he  said, with a small, shy smile.

You couldn't help but return the smile as you watched him, amazed at how he managed to pull himself together despite the lack of sleep and the chaos of the previous night.

"They look amazing, Cill," you said, your voice sincere as you looked into his eyes. There was a moment of silence between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind of silence that held a promise of possibilities yet to be explored.

Cillian held your gaze for a beat longer before breaking it, clearing his throat and getting busy with the pancakes.

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur as you and Cillian sat down to enjoy the pancakes while Mara played quietly beside you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you as you watched Cillian interact with Mara, the way he looked at her with pure adoration and love.

"We should still take her to the doctors and get some meds for when it happens again. There is some stuff they can prescribe which clears it right up," Cillian told you  as you both munched on the pancakes, Mara's plate with a few bite-sized pieces of pancake on it untouched.

"Yeah, I will call the clinic in minute and I can take her, unless you want to?"  you asked, already assuming the latter.

"How about we both take her and then, if she feels up for it, we could go somewhere nice for the afternoon? Maybe the park to feed the ducks? Somewhere where she can't get others sick, I suppose," Cillian suggested and, after all that had occurred between you, you were surprised by his suggestion.

"I thought you didn't want us to do these things together anymore, with the new parenting plan and all? " you  said, dabbing your mouth with the napkin as you gazed at Cillian with raised eyebrows.

"I guess I changed my mind Y/N," he admitted, swallowing hard. "I was upset after what happened at my sister's wedding, but I realize that you were right and I was wrong. Mara needs the both of us and this, here, with all of us having breakfast together, is nice, you know?"  Cillian said, his voice soft and sincere.

You found yourself smiling at him, realizing that he was right. You had been so consumed with your anger and hurt over Cillian's sudden change in behavior and the way that everything had unfolded during the past few months, that you had not considered the fact that maybe he was hurting just as much as you were.

You reached out and placed your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Okay," you simply said.

"Let's take Mara to the clinic and then, if she's feeling up for it, we can head to the park."

The three of you finished your breakfast and proceeded to get ready for the day ahead. As you got dressed and brushed Mara's hair, you couldn't help but steal glances at Cillian, admiring his handsome features and the way he interacted with Mara. Despite the tension between you, it was clear that he loved Mara deeply and you couldn't help but feel grateful for that.

As you finished getting ready and made your way downstairs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the rest of the day. It had been a while since you had spent a proper day out with Cillian and Mara and, now that the opportunity had presented itself, you couldn't wait to enjoy it.

The clinic was only a short drive away. Mara slept peacefully in her car seat as you drove, with Cillian sitting silently beside you, lost in his thoughts. When you arrived, you parked the car and gently woke Mara up before making your way inside.

Cillian held gently Mara's hand as you waited in the lobby for the nurse to call Mara's name. Time seemed to drag on, but Mara was content playing with a toy car that Cillian had brought from home for her.

Finally, your name was called and you made your way to the examination room. The nurse took Mara's temperature, oxygen level and listened to her chest before confirming Cillian's earlier suspicion - Mara had croup. The nurse gave you a prescription for a medication that would help if Mara had another croup attack.

She explained how to administer it and what symptoms to look out for. You nodded along, taking it all in, and thanked her as she handed you the prescription.

After the clinic visit, the three of you picked up some more food and made your way to the park  , with Mara securely strapped into her stroller.

The park was bustling with families and children, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy as you watched the young children playing and enjoying themselves. You and Cillian fell into an easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing in particular, the tension between you dissolving with each passing moment.

You parked Mara's stroller near the pond and pulled out some food that you had brought to feed the ducks. It was the only place in Dublin where this was permitted and, unsurprisingly, the ducks here were massive and rather friendly.

Mara loved them. She clapped her hands as they waddled over to the food that you'd thrown out for them.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your daughter, so full of wonder and delight. And next to her, Cillian seemed just as captivated, his gaze following every movement of the ducks and his touch gentle as he moved a stray strand of hair away from Mara's face.

Cillian was unbelievably good with your daughter.

You watched as he carried on a comical conversation with an oblivious duck, making Mara giggle hysterically. His laughter blended with hers, and you found yourself smiling along with them. For a moment, the world faded away and it was just the three of you, enjoying each other's company.

When Mara became tired of feeding the ducks, you took her for a walk around the park while Cillian packed up the leftovers and disposed of the trash.

"I think she really needs a nap now," you  said, glancing down at Mara who was rubbing her eyes in her stroller. "I don't want to push her too much today, even though she seems to be enjoying herself."

Cillian nodded in agreement, "That's probably for the best. Let's get her home then and I will get out of your hair," he suggested, pushing the stroller alongside you as Mara's eyes started to droop.

"Do you want to stay for dinner maybe? I think Mara would really like that,"  you offered, turning to face Cillian who paused for a moment before responding.

"I mean, I guess that would be alright. If you want me to," he said with a small, awkward smile on his face and you nodded happily.

"Yeah, I do. It's just dinner, so why not?" you said, already mentally planning out a simple meal to cook.

Cillian nodded and the rest of the walk to the car was filled with a comfortable silence. You placed Mara in her car seat and clicked it into place. Cillian then climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

As Cillian drove you home, you noticed that he was glancing at you every so often, a thoughtful expression on his face. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "What is it?" you asked, reaching out to adjust the volume of the radio.

Cillian hesitated before answering, "I was just thinking about how nice today has been, spending time with you and Mara. It's been a while since we've done that."

You nodded in agreement, "It has. I'm glad we could make today happen. Mara really needed it, and so did I."

Cillian smiled at you, a genuine and warm smile that reached his eyes. "Me too," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[missjanjie]

🎵denali/anetra

ok so 1. this song was written in the 60s so thats when i decided it takes place and 2. yes im implying denali is the twins mom in this au bcs its still funny to me

Breakfast in Bed - Dusty Springfield

Don't be shy You've been here before Pull your shoes off, lie down And I will lock the door And no-one has to know You've come here again Darling it will be Like it's always been before Come on over here

When Anetra opened the door to an upset Denali, she knew exactly how their morning was going to go. She ushered her inside and gingerly wiped away her tears. “Another fight?” she asked once the other woman calmed down. 

“Yeah, thank god he had to go to work, or I’d never catch a break,” Denali lamented as she followed Anetra into her bedroom, both knowing and eagerly anticipating what was to come. They would call it breakfast in bed, as addressing what it actually was simply wasn’t an option for them. 

Because what they were doing was cheating on their husbands with each other. Both of them had thought they were utterly alone in the way they felt, attracted to other women instead of the men they married. The affair began almost instantaneously after that. 

“I wish you could stay a little longer,” Anetra remarked as she watched Denali get redressed. “Don’t you have another hour before the school bus comes around?” she asked, hoping to coax more time out of her. 

“Yeah, but you know how the twins are, gotta have a snack ready for them. And I should probably get started on dinner, I did promise a roast…” Denali’s explanation devolved into rambling, as if she were trying to convince herself to leave instead. 

She looped her arms around her waist, then moved a hand up to cup her cheek. “I don’t know if you make motherhood sound more or less daunting.”

Denali placed her hand on Anetra’s stomach, the smallest bump starting to develop. “Well, the good news is there’s probably only one of them,” she offered, pleased when it got the laugh she wanted out of her. “You’re going to be a great mother, I’m sure of it.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled, then sighed. “I guess I can’t hold you up any longer, but come back soon, will you? I’d like to fit in as much breakfast in bed as we can before I’m out of commission.”

“Absolutely,” she promised, “but boy, I’m certainly going to miss breakfast in bed.” Well, beyond that, she would miss Anetra.

[nancypullen]

Hello?

Anyone still here? I don't even remember the last time that I posted. The job is consuming me and I'm looking for reasons not to quit. There, I said it. It's too many hours and I have no life. I don't have time to do a single thing that I enjoy. It's definitely taking a physical toll on me - sciatica, ankle issues, etc. BUT (and isn't there always a but?) I'm stuffing money into my savings, I enjoy my lovely coworkers, and there is potential to do more things that I think I'd be good at...my displays are a hit, the children's librarian is making noise about having me do some storytime activities, and I'm getting better at the things that I found daunting when I started. The library is a comfortable place for me, I just wish they'd cut me back to true part-time, 20 hours a week or less. I wanted a small job where I could meet people and do some good. I didn't want to hand over all of my waking hours. Having said that, I should admit that I've had a lovely string of three days off. Mostly because I had the week from Hell with only Sunday off prior to that. I'm 60, I'm not built for long days and late nights anymore. Only a granny would consider working until 8 pm a "late night". In my youth anything before midnight was considered early. Every night when I get off work my watch congratulates me for being active 9 out of 9 hours.

I don't even want to do anything that feels good for nine hours, let alone stooping, lifting, walking, carrying, pushing carts, and maxing out my smile muscles. Something has to change but I can't bring myself to be a quitter. I hate to quit something that I'm good at, but I hate missing out on my life even more. Now that I've whined about that - what's new with you? Tried any new recipes? Gone somewhere fun? Getting excited about the feel of SPRING in the air? I'm itching to poke around in the gardens. My tulips are all up and look exceptionally healthy, so we should have a burst of color soon. Robins have been singing to us and there's a woodpecker making noise daily which is a sure sign of spring. When the males start drumming they're claiming territory and looking for a Mrs. The birds and squirrels seem generally happier, like they've been waiting for those first sweet daffodils to appear and wake up the earth (maybe that was just me). Any way you slice it, Old Man Winter is packing his bags. He can be slow and stubborn about leaving, sometimes giving us a last blast, but he's definitely departing. We'll set our clocks forward on the 10th and it's going to be so nice to leave work at 6:15 or so and enjoy a little daylight. I miss getting some sunshine during the day. During my lunch break I go down to the wharves by the Choptank River just so I can see some sky and soak up a little vitamin D. Turns out I am definitely solar powered. In other spring news, I ORDERED A ROSE BUSH. That's probably not big news to most folks, certainly not worthy of capital letters, but this one is special. I've wanted one for a while, couldn't find it (at least not at a price I was willing to pay) and if we leave this house I'm going to dig it up and take it with me. It's a Zephirine Drouhin rose. She's a deep pink climbing rose, very fragrant, very hearty, will even thrive in shade (I'm guessing it might not bloom as much) and, best of all, it's thornless!

She's going to be planted in a sunny corner where she can climb all over my little porch nook. I'm so excited! Of course the picture above is a long way off for me. When mine arrives it will look like this...

Never say I'm not a dreamer. I'm positive that this is in my future. Honestly, how could I resist this?

Description

Intoxicating Raspberry Fragrance

Introduced in 1868 and a favorite ever since, Zephirine Drouhin Climbing Rose is a romantic, fantastically fragrant, old-fashioned rose that is still one of the most popular climbers today. No modern rose has been able to exceed it for sheer performance, rich raspberry scent, and generous season-long bloom, and if you make Zephirine Drouhin Climbing Rose part of your landscape, you will treasure its beauty and generosity of bloom.

Peaking in spring and fall, the loose, double blossoms of vivid cerise-carmine provide outstanding mass effect. Each bloom is about 4 inches across, opening from a long, pointed bud and made up of 20 to 24 richly colored petals that are infused with a strong, evocative raspberry scent. Just one flower is a delight, so you can imagine what a vaseful looks and smells like.

This old French Bourbon rose grows vigorously to 15 to 20 feet high and 4 to 6 feet wide and, remarkable for any rose, performs well in part shade. Zephirine Drouhin Climbing Rose is an excellent choice for north-facing walls and areas with little sunlight. Zephirine Drouhin Climbing Rose will continue to bloom in summer, but its heaviest showing will usually be in the cooler temperatures of spring and fall.

The rich, medium-green foliage (coppery-purple when young) is very mildew resistant, and the canes are thornless, making Zephirine Drouhin Climbing Rose great for planting where traffic is heavy or children are nearby. This classic, time-tested climbing rose is the perfect choice to train over a trellis or porch, or trim into a formal hedge. Plant in moist, well-drained, loamy soil. I mean, what more could I ask for from a rose bush? Raise your hand if you think my optimism is setting me up for huge disappointment. I can't help myself. It's like my love affair with hydrangeas - they often break my heart but I can't give up on them. I'm sure that Zephirine and I will become besties. I have no other news to share because I can't really talk to you about funny library moments/patrons. This town is too small for me to try to change names to protect the innocent - people would know. I doubt anyone around here knows I have a blog but I'd rather not chance angry villagers in my yard with torches. I suppose I could talk about the rude elevator repair guy who has been in the building for at least two weeks with no end in sight. Our elevator was due for a complete overhaul so that's what's happening. The foreman on the job is a Trumpy, rude, misogynistic jerk. I said what I said. It's not just me, other employees who have dealt with him say the same. It's something every day. Last Wednesday I was setting up my displays for the month of March and he started making noise about the Women's History Month display. I gave him my steeliest gaze and told him that he is vastly outnumbered and to tread lightly. Then the jerk points at a book and said something along the lines of, "Why is that book there?" I saw what he was pointing at (Kamala Harris bio) but decided to make him say it. So I asked which book he meant, he muttered, "second shelf, far right". I responded, "OH. THE VICE-PRESIDENT? That's history." accompanied by a look that dared him to say more. He walked off and I admit that I was surprised that he wasn't dumb enough to be wearing $400 gold sneakers sold to him by a certain con man. My display was filled with books on amazing women - women in science, women in the arts, women in the military, women from all walks of life and political persuasions. The only thing that didn't belong was a narrow-minded doofus, so I got rid of him. I can't wait for the elevator work to be completed but I admit that I don't want to be the first one to use it. He really doesn't like us. It's probably not just us, I get the feeling that he goes through life like that. That went negative, didn't it? From gushing about roses to wanting to squash a bug of a man. Oops. Speaking of men, Mickey is waiting for lunch and then I think we're going to go poke around at the auction house. I'll make salads for dinner and then do a little meal prep for the week ahead. I'm back at work tomorrow after some lovely days off, so I need to get myself mentally prepared. The Edgewaters came over this weekend and the grandgirl was quite entertaining - lots of playing, fort building, reading, and fun. It was nice to have that family time. Alright, I'm outta' here. I hope that this blog post finds you smack dab in the middle of a good day. I hope that you're content, and that you're taking care of yourself. Feed your body good food, feed your mind good thoughts, and treat your heart with tenderness. Stay safe, stay well, spring forward! XOXO, Nancy

[wandringaesthetic]

A LOT OF WORDS REGARDING VANA’DIEL

How to talk about Final Fantasy XI.

How to start. I could go over my history with the Final Fantasy series (long, boring).

I could say why I didn’t play this game and its expansions at the time of their release (I was in high school and college and a) there was no way I was going to be able to talk my parents into letting me play a game that had a subscription fee and b) I know myself well enough to know that there was a real risk of me getting addicted to an MMO and flunking out of college).

I could say why I’m playing it now (after getting through the Extremely Daunting Task of every Final Fantasy XIV expansion, it’s the only main series Final Fantasy I haven’t beaten).

A key to understanding and enjoying any Final Fantasy game is to not expect it to play like any other Final Fantasy game. To take it on its own terms. I think some gamers and fans have trouble doing this with the weirder games in the series, which definitely includes XI. Yet. I don’t think I CAN play Final Fantasy XI on its own terms, because to truly play it on its own terms would mean to play it as it existed in the early 2000s.

The theme I hear over and over from people who played this game in its heyday is that because the game itself was so hostile to players, because it was so easy to die in the field, because directions for quests were so vague, the community within it was very strong. It was more or less impossible to play without help and guidance. Even making it beyond the first levels, or to the edge of the very first areas surrounding the starting towns, meant joining up with other adventurers.

Playing in 2022 and 2023, several quality of life improvements have been made. Or, well, attempted improvements. I don’t know exactly when any of these things came into being or WHEN any of them were added, and I’m probably unaware of or discounting the impact of some changes. The leveling curve is much less steep. There are “trusts,” summonable NPCs that you can use to assist you through nearly all content, so that you can solo all (or almost all—I’ve not hit a brick wall yet) of the main scenario solo. You can fast travel. Since I didn’t play in its heyday, I’m not clear if originally there was NO teleportation, or if there were only the crystal “home point” warps in towns and before major boss battles. In any case, an additional network of teleportation was added in Adventurers’ Guides – floating books in towns, some dungeons and some field areas. If you play a little ways into Rhapsodies of Vana’diel, warping between home points is made SIGNIFICANTLY cheaper, reduced from an original 5000 gil to a mere 200, and RoV also gives you several multipliers to EXP gained.

In summary FFXI used to have a VERY STEEP LEVEL GRIND and traveling in the game used to be a REAL PAIN IN THE ASS. TO THIS DAY the leveling curve still starts feeling kinda steep about level 60 or so even WITH all the boosts. And Travel is STILL a pain in the ass.

And. Oh gosh. Your inventory is TINY. You start off with 30 slots. Your equipment could be taking up as much as 16 of those slots. You get a little room in a little house with a personal moogle servant who stores your stuff pretty early on, and you can expand your inventory through a quest line that involves item collection and goblins. But that early limitation is brutal. Especially since, as I’ve found out, several randomly dropped items I’ve sold or discarded in order to keep them from jamming up my inventory have turned out to be necessary or useful for later questlines.

(FINAL FANTASY I. Had a 32 slot inventory. On the NES. Which didn’t include your equippable weapons and armor, which were in a different menu)

This game, by the way, is not interested in explaining anything to you. Make a character. Great! You’re a catgirl! Get adventuring.

Uh??

This was bad enough when the game was released. Over 20 years after its release, with several new design features with competing philosophies stacked on top of it, it’s incredibly overwhelming. There are multiple systems of points and currencies. The method for targeting, for speaking to an NPC or attacking an enemy (tab through every possible target in front of you) is not intuitive. In order to give an NPC an item, you have to initiate a trade with them. That’s in your menu, which there are two pages of, with important things on both pages. It’s not immediately obvious how to OPEN that menu.

In short, the first couple of hours of playing this game are going to be the worst time you have with it. In fact, the first time I played this game, I made a character, walked around town a little bit, couldn’t figure out how to so much as talk to an NPC, shut down the game and did not come back.

And this is without even MENTIONING the PlayOnline launcher, which is another (unnecessary) layer of complexity on top of all this nonsense.

I’ve been playing on Asura, which is in the year of our lord 2023 is Final Fantasy XI’s most populated majority English language server.

POPULATED BY BOTS I MEAN.

Even in 2023 Vana’diel is by no means a ghost town. I don’t have a good idea of what most long-term players are doing here, but there are characters running around and standing around cities. There are people selling things at the auction house. Nearly everything I’ve looked for at the auction house I’ve managed to find, though not always for a price I wanted to pay for it. Further afield, it’s sparse, but one does encounter other players occasionally, especially in areas where one can spawn and fight NMs—"notorious monsters.”

But also, the /shout and /say channels in any city are so jammed by offers for real money transactions that I eventually just turned them off so they didn’t display. Catch me in Vana’diel and you’re going to have to whisper in my ear.

I’ve played almost 100% by myself. I joined up with another player just once while we were both doing the same quest (in which we had to dip an orb into various pools so that we could use it to pass through a magical barrier) and I’m not sure that we helped each other more than we hindered each other.

Which means I’m playing a very different game than the one those who played in its heyday did, to the extent that I wonder if I’m meaningfully playing it at all.

Occasionally someone says a Final Fantasy game “plays itself” or that it’s “press X to win.” That’s a common criticism of XII—where it’s somewhat true, but only after you’ve finely honed your characters’ programming with a complex string of if->then statements in the menus. It’s surface level true of XIII, where yes, the most efficient way to play is to let the game auto-select a set of actions, based on a set of roles, which, to play effectively, you’ll need to switch around multiple times in more challenging battles, finding useful combinations and adapting as the situation changes. There is certainly an element of strategy in both of these games.

If you’re playing FFXI with trusts we are veering very very close to “press X to win” for real, or at least “press tab and enter and wait a while to win.” As I understand it, much of the strategy of XI when playing with real people was in coordinating with each other and lining up skill chains. I won’t explain exactly how that works, but suffice it to say your trust NPCs do it automatically.

I’ve been playing XI as a tarutaru thief. I wanted something different—conceptually, mechanically, aesthetically--than my FFXIV elezen White Mage. While not a huge damage dealer, thief has been useful for the steal ability and abilities that enhance the rate of various item drops. Combat my trusts mostly handle for me. I’ve had a couple of hairy moments, like the segments of the original release’s final boss where it’s immune to either physical or magical damage. My trusts eventually took it out, but I’m certain real humans could have done it much faster. I’ve not yet met a challenge that wasn’t solved by leveling up a bit more.

Trusts are rather like XII’s characters except their programming is hardwired. In fact, XII is probably the non-online Final Fantasy installment that XI has the most kinship with. Like XII, it also has large, labyrinthine dungeons. Dungeons that sometimes connect to other large, labyrinthine dungeons that you will probably not be able to explore much of the first time the plot takes you there, because there will be monsters that will one shot KO you.

In most games, encountering aggressive monsters that can one-shot KO you would be a message to leave here and come back later. Not in FFXI, though! Avoiding monsters altogether is a big part of navigation in this game. If you’re around the same level as the monsters, you can fight them for EXP, but even in that felicitous case, you rarely want to fight your way through a whole (like I said, labyrinthine) dungeon. If you’re sufficiently well-leveled, monsters will ignore you. But in most cases you’re going to be casting spells or using items that make you invisible and silent.

But in order to go through a door or use a teleporter, you’re going to have to take those status effects off. So you better have a lot of those prism powders and silent oils on hand. In your tiny inventory.

At this point, every dungeon becomes a glorified maze. A maze with interesting wallpaper. A maze populated with monsters that don’t react to you. A series of rooms you have to track through in order to get to the next series of rooms.

Looking over my shoulder, my partner asked “Is this game just walking?”

Yeah! Pretty much!

As I’ve been playing FFXI, I’ve been meditating on what a game even IS. Especially on what an RPG is, in this case including things like tabletop RPGs and board games and collectable card games. Gacha games, even. What importance does the theming have? What importance do the numbers have? Is winning simply a matter of putting more time and/or money into the game? Wipe away Vana’diel. Wipe away the elvaan and the tarutaru and the beastmen. Wipe away Altana and Promathia. What is there left? Whence the game? What challenges am I facing? Who or what am I playing against?

I eventually reached the conclusion that I’m playing against the game itself. That I’m enduring past various infuriating time-wasting and awkward mechanics and the surfeit of currencies and key items and terms. I’m seeking help, like the players of the 2000s did, but instead of finding it in the other adventurers on the linkshell I’m finding it in the players that came before me and wrote the wiki articles. The game is seeking and finding the information I need in order to continue.

I occasionally wonder if I possess the context with which to judge this game. I’ve only played one other MMORPG and that’s FFXIV, its direct descendent. I don’t know how FFXI felt in the context of its time. I know GAMES of that era. I know Final Fantasy games of that era. I don’t know other MMORPGs. I don’t know if I’m being unfair. I know I’m playing something very different than what people played at this game’s peak, but from everything I’ve heard and understood, Final Fantasy XI at its peak is a game I would have liked even less than I like Final Fantasy XI in 2022 and 2023. It’s probably not a game I would have stuck with after the free trial.

So, listen. I don’t like this game. I think that’s clear. But I don’t want you to come away with the idea that I HATE this game. I feel a weird responsibility toward it. I am treading in places few fans of the series actually tread. I am treading in places I can’t in good conscience RECOMMEND anyone tread. I am treading in places it is cost prohibitive, in terms of both money and time, to tread.

Will you believe me if I tell you that Vana’diel is beautiful? The plot is just okay, but it’s enough to establish a plausible Fantasy Political Situation for the four nations and Beyond. Good backdrop to write  your own adventure on.

But what is really here is Art Direction.

Ironically, with my disposition that overall Final Fantasy XI is A Giant Waste Of My Time, the times when it feels the best to me have been when I’m level grinding. Wandering just that little bit further afield. Seeing what’s on the next screen. Seeing whether I can take the monsters in the next area. Pushing the boundaries. Exploring.

The world was lovingly built and the structures within it show that. There’s a dungeon full of bird-type beastmen that looks like it’s made of terracotta. I feel like I know what the walls feel like. I feel like I know what it SMELLS like. Greatest of all is the Crystal Line, a giant set of conduits that span the world. An ancient civilization used it to harness the power of the world’s elemental crystals. The crystal line is not explained to the player until pretty deep in the plot (or if it was, I wasn’t paying attention), but the player sees it, out in the field. It stretches everywhere. The game says it’s made of cermet—a ceramic-metal composite, but I initially thought it was made of bone. The “crags” that form its endpoints look like alien teeth. It looks like the remains of the spine of some impossibly large creature. A dragon, perhaps. Ghost and “weapon” type enemies stalk near it in all of the maps where it appears, adding to the idea that it is somehow cursed. When you find that some of the beastmen have blasted their way through it to supercharge “magicite” within these conduits, even without actually knowing what the Crystal Line is, breaking into it by force feels like inviting the worst sort of bad juju. It all adds up to incredibly effective environmental storytelling.

In Rise of Zilart, Chains of Promathia, and beyond, the game becomes truly gorgeous. With the reminder that this game ran on the PS2, the expansions of FFXI are some of the best looking stuff on that console. The environments become more lush. The cutscenes become more cinematic. The outfits get more detailed. The monsters get more animated. The characters start looking like Luzaf, my beloved.

Something like a third of the way into Wings of the Goddess I am liking but not loving the plot, and ironically, the more the game Tries in terms of gameplay (go here! Go here! Find these items! Plant this tree in the past to harvest it in the future! Do this minigame!) the more irritating it becomes.

When will I consider myself Done with Final Fantasy XI? I once counted myself Done with Final Fantasy XIV when the credits rolled on A Realm Reborn (the first time). I was wrong.

I had the goal of finishing this game before this summer so that I will have Beaten Every Final Fantasy Game for at least a few minutes before FFXVI comes out this June. More importantly, I would like to stop paying the subscription fee.

Do I do Seekers of Adoulin? Abyssea? The mini scenarios? The main plot is arguably just ONE of the things there is to do in Final Fantasy XI. Not more or less important than several other pursuits.

I think I have to get to the credits of Rhapsodies of Vana’diel. The main guide I’m using is titled “Quickstart 1-119 Guide.” Perhaps when I get there I will have only just begun.

[shenzi-hemlock]

Hi Shenzi! I’m the anon you wrote the essay too haha :) first I want to thank you for answering my question and addressing my concerns so thoroughly. It’s difficult to find information like this anywhere really and I’m glad to have trusted you with the task of responding to these anxieties! I saw that two others have commented on the post saying it’s helped them, so please know that you’re doing so much good by breaking things down the way you did. I must tell you that I never felt talked down to while reading through the post! 👍 so don’t worry about that! I actually had fun & felt at ease reading it because you were so animated and clearly trying to help.

I appreciate the explanation of the differences between a wedding night and a pap smear. My anxious brain didn’t stop to think that it shouldn’t be terrifying to be with my husband for the first time, especially if I’ve picked a good one. I agree that potentially having vaginismus or a similar condition should be discussed before engagement.

The example of your pastor friend and his wife is perfect. My Sunday school teacher and his wife have a beautiful love story — she had to tell him that she could potentially never be able to bear children. He then told her that he’s not marrying her to have children, but because she is God’s will for his life. Now, years later, they have 3 children! I just want to share because that will stick with me for a long time! I strive to find a godly man like these two examples here.

To make it clear, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m turning 27 this year and I still don’t see dating on the horizon so for the time being I believe marriage is just not something God has for me. I asked these questions mainly because I’m like…well what if, on the off chance, I do get married someday? How would I handle these issues?

Thank you again for all your help, Shenzi!! You did such a wonderful job explaining everything while also keeping it all biblical. appreciate your advice so much ❤️

Hi again, Nonnie!!

I am so so glad to hear that our previous conversation helped! I know it can be daunting and something to potentially want to avoid, but each situation is gonna look a little different. Just how God made each couple unique, so it is true that their private lives are also vastly differing.

I know just how hard this subject can be when you have a fear about something or really want an answer to a question but you don't have someone ready at hand to ask or you would rather keep yourself anonymous which can be much harder when speaking in real life. XD I was very grateful to have a pre-maritial counselor (a long time married Christian couple) that were more than ready to answer any questions we had about sexual intimacy. I won't equate myself with either of them because they have had a much longer marriage than mine and have had tons more practice to work out any wrinkles in their marriage, but I am glad to have been of help.

I am also glad that you didn't feel like I was talking down to you. Over explaining and making everything explicit, instead of implicit, is something I do to help myself either understand a concept being talked about or to make sure that someone understands me with no chance of misconstruing my meaning and intention. My husband sometimes thinks that I am talking down to him when I do this, but I always reassure him that it's just how my brain works.

Hey, good for you! Everyone's life is gonna look a bit different than everyone else's. I know my youngest sister just got married and she's under 21. I got married in my mid-twenties which I think is a fine time to marry if you're ready. But I remember meeting an old couple at our local Renaissance Festival that had only been married for I think 2-3 years at the time. The lady hadn't been married once in her life until her 60s because she just hadn't found that good man yet. Paul said it best when he said it is better to remain single than to bind yourself to someone when you shouldn't have done so. Which is the advice I followed. I know tons of people that were dating in high school (which imo is really young, you are still figuring out so much and trying to go through so many changes all at once) that ended up in really bad break ups and have lasting mental health issues to this day. I am not saying this because I am better than others, not at all. But I saw what others went through and did not want that for myself. So I waited and God placed my darling husband in my life and I could not be more blessed by him.

Anyway, I turned this one into another ramble so I'll wrap this up! If you have any other questions, feel free to reach out and I'd love to either answer them or to point you in the right direction for resources or someone that can answer it. Lots of love!

[therealvinelle]

I agree that Aro definitely is not straight, but if he is gay and not bi, why window shop for a wife? If he wanted a partner for some reason, why not find a male one? It was a different era, yes, but are vampires really homophobic?

So, for this meta, we’ll have to get historical. Before we do, keep in mind that while I know Ancient Greece better than most, having studied it (introductory level classes only, mind), I don’t know it well enough to be any kind of authority on the matter. History, more than any other discipline I can think of, is not respected as an academic field, and people with poor to no understanding of historical hermeneutics will make very bold assumptions that they then have too poor understanding of history to realize are bullshit. This is a disclaimer because I don’t want to join in on the chorus of authoritative-sounding people on the internet with no verifiable credentials who spout things about history that are then taken to be gospel truth by readers because the author made it sound good.

More, I say this because your question is asking me to explain the morality and social norms surrounding a character from 14th century BC Greece. And this man would not, for the record have been Ancient Greek, he would have been Mycenaean Greek. Very quick history lesson: Mycenaean Greece was a flourishing society that suffered a downfall, Greek civilization fell into its very own dark ages, until around 800 BC when Greeks began forming what would become the Ancient Greece we know and love. This in turn means that I can’t very well read up on the marital and sexual norms of Ancient Greece when I’m researching for Aro, because he was five hundred years old already when Ancient Greece became a thing.

And your question concerns cultural history. And for that we’re going to have to look at how we know the things we know about history. How history is studied.

Historians have two kinds of sources: archeological findings and written records. (I’m aware that oral tradition, like the one carried by the Aborigine people, isn’t technically one of these, but to my understanding it’ll be treated to similar analysis as written records, which leaves us with the two types of sources standing strong.) These sources are analyzed, and we apply various theories and models onto them to make sense of the context they were written in. The more sources we have, the more we can refine or eliminate these theories or models.

More, history is an ever evolving field. There are movements and schools of thought that influence how history is written (marxism in history, that is, history as a class struggle, was heavy in the 60′s and I think until the 80′s), which means that how a certain culture will be perceived today is not the way it was perceived a few decades ago, nor will it be perceived the same way a few decades in the future.

You see why I am daunted by you asking me to give you an answer about sexual and marital norms for a guy who lived 3000 years ago, and I hope you’ll understand why I feel this word vomit is necessary.

Now, the danger with Mycenaean Greece is that it’s a society it’s easy to feel we know a lot about, because it was the precursor to Ancient Greece, and we know a lot about the latter. But, first of, the reason why we know as much as we do about the Ancient Greeks is the Romans. The Greeks wrote about their history, their philosophy, their government, and they wrote plays and told stories. However, that was two thousand years ago and their writings would have been lost to the sands of time if the Romans hadn’t idolized and sought to emulate their society. This meant preserving their written records. This tradition was carried on by the Christians, in part because Hellenistic philosophy was incorporated into Christian philosophy. We have neo-platonism to thank for Christian asceticism, the “mind over matter” cornerstone.

What I’m getting at with all of this is that we know the insane amount about Ancient Greece that we do because of some very unique circumstances, and so we can make very sophisticated theories about what the Hellenistic world was like. It’s still detective work, but not Pepe Silvia type of detective work. This is not the case for Mycenaean Greece. We know a comparative lot about Mycenaean Greece, considering how long ago it was, but there is very much we don’t know.

With Mycenaean Greece, we are dealing with a lot more uncertainty. We haven’t deciphered one of their two writing styles, and a lot of the text we do have is very fragmentary. Coming up with detailed societal models for Mycenaean Greece, and for the 14th century BC specifically, is... well I don’t know enough about what this society left behind to know what historians have to work with, but I imagine they have their work cut out.

More, I haven’t studied this at all, which means that any attempt on my end to research this would be stumbling around in the dark.

One example: the Illiad and the Odyssey, while composed around the 8th century BC, were set in the early 12th century BC, which is nearly Aro’s time period. The Illiad depicts a homoerotic relationship between Patroclus and Achilles, and both works depict a lot of matrimonies, so I wish I could use it as a source. However, not only would this time gap alone make these sources questionable, but there’s also the matter of the Illiad and the Odyssey being transmitted orally, from bard to bard. Changes were made over the years. For example, the technology described in the Illiad is from several eras, as the warriors will be using bronze weaponry in one book and then switch to iron in the next. This game of telephone is what happens when a story is transmitted orally from person to person. So, while it’s tempting to use these works as a sort of reference point, the possibility, likelihood even, that the bards made adjustments to keep the old story entertaining for their contemporary audience is strong.

For this reason, I can’t give you any kind of historically correct analysis on what the marital or sexual mores would have been like in Aro’s time. Even if the knowledge is out there, I don’t have it.

But I can say this, spouses have for the longest time been partners. Men and women got married, even in the gay, gay, Ancient Greece, not just to have children but because they complemented each other, they were partners. Men needs wives, and women needs husbands. And a partner was canonically exactly what Aro was looking for, feelings had nothing to do with it:

After Caius and Marcus had found their romantic attachments, Aro decided to find his own, although rather than finding his other half in another vampire Aro decided to create his own instead. Aro had a certain type of woman in mind and he found what he was looking for in Sulpicia. He successfully courted her and she came to fall in love with him.

As for vampires being homophobic, I think that is for another post about what culture they bring with them into their new life. But to be brief I’ll say that while the individual vampire can be homophobic, there can be no homophobia at an institutional level because vampires have no institutions. And it’s the institutional homophobia that gets ya. It’s what the whole fight for gay rights has been about: secure legislation against discrimination and that protects gay people. (The right to marry and protection from employees firing LGBT employees comes to mind as examples of this.)

So, no one could force Aro to marry a woman. 

And I’d go into a rant here about how the prospect of gay marriage, of even identifying as homosexual (the labels homosexual, bisexual, and heterosexual are very new and, to my recollection, were born off of the Western psychiatric discipline as men who slept with other men were diagnosed with homosexuality. I imagine a man from the Antiquity would be confused at the notion that just because he likes to sleep with dudes he shouldn’t get married to a woman), was unthinkable up until very recently, but I just made this obscenely long rant about how I can’t really make these kinds of guesses, so I’m not gonna.

I think being married to a woman and then banging hot dudes who came along suited Aro just fine.

Also, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but - I’m going to encourage history asks. Because this fandom has a bit of a history problem, as a lot of the characters are from different time periods and many feel unsatisfied with the way Meyer handled that. I am by no means a historian, but I know several of the historical periods the characters of Twilight are from well enough to make educated guesses.

So, hit me with your worst.

[nataliescatorccio]

Hii Becca, congrats on your 15k! 📝Could you do a tutorial of how you do your rainbow color sets?

of course! let’s talk about rainbows such as the ones i’ve created here, here and here! this is maybe going to be more of a series of tips to use when attempting a rainbow set as i have my colouring tutorial explaining how i colour my gifs!

i’d also recommend taking a look at my tutorial on how to get several gifs in one as i also use techniques from this.

so let’s get started under the cut!

tip 1: finding scenes

one of the most important things when attempting a rainbow set is the scene picking. i usually go through and pick the scenes i like, but then sort them into their base colours. so for example i will put all of the blue scenes into a folder, then all of the green scenes into another folder (you can see a screenshot below of what i usually do). 

this will save you a lot of time because it’s easier to enhance colours that are already there, rather than have to colour each scene from scratch. the smallest rainbow i’ve done is 30 gifs which is still quite a lot for one set (the others are both above 60) so you really want to make life easier on yourself by using scenes that already have those colours in them.

tip 2: decide on your layout

people have come up with all kinds of exciting ways to present rainbows recently. you have ones like i listed of my examples above which is fairly simple boxes or rectangles together, or you can do things with different shapes such as this really cool layout. you can experiment with whatever you want but it’s a good idea to start with an idea of what you want to achieve and how many gifs you want within it!

tip 3: start with your black and whites

the way i like to do my rainbow set is as a gradient, so each line gradually changes from one shade to the next. the easiest way for me to do this is by starting with my white lines and my black lines, even though they are at opposing ends of the set. 

for my witcher set, because the darker scenes included yennefer with fire, i knew i needed to go from black to either red or orange. i went with red and was able to work, so this gave me the ‘starting point’ for my rainbow (even though on the set it’s the ending point, i know that’s a bit confusing!)

but having this meant i could now figure out my ending point. i knew this needed to be either pink or orange as these are the colours next to red in the spectrum. in making my white gifs, it was easier to add a little touch of light pink in with my colouring, so i created a white to pink transition as such:

this has now given me the ‘start’ and ‘end’ points for my rainbow, which is really helpful in knowing my sequence of colours and how i’m going to transition throughout the set.

note: you can start anywhere on the colour spectrum like this, i could go from black > blue all the way through to say green > white. i will say in my experience i have found it more effective to transition from black to a warmer colour (such as red or orange) because these colours standout well on a black background which gifs you an effective gradient effect, but this also depends on the shows i’m working with.

tip 4: getting a line of gifs to match in colouring

obviously one of the key things about a rainbow is that each gif in a line is a similar shade. otherwise you won’t get quite the same rainbow effect going on! as i said before please read my colouring tutorial because a lot of what i’m going to talk about now will be presuming you’ve already gone through that.

so in order to get my colours to match i firstly colour all of my gifs with their basic colouring separately, and then put them all together as so:

as you can see these all have elements of pink in them but most are not fully pink and also the shades do not yet match. but that’s fine! now i have them all together it’s easier to see as i colour each one how the shades match to each other.

i proceeded to use my usual colouring method of using the paint brush (step 3 in my colouring tutorial). each of these gifs have all been coloured with the exact same shade with the brush, each under all the other colouring layers, with a slightly pink gradient over the top of all colouring layers. for the right hand gif i used some hue/saturation adjustments to change the cyan/green shades to pink but otherwise, they’ve all had the same painting adjustments:

as you can see they’re now a lot more pink, but they still don’t match in shade! the middle and right hand gifs were far too purply for me as i wanted more of a ‘rosy pink’ shade.

so, i added a few paint brush layers on top (again in exactly the same shade). in the middle gif, i have added a little bit of colour around the top of her head and set this to ‘hard light’ to lighten this area. 

on the right hand gif i added a layer covering the entire gif and set this to multiply to bring a bit more colour depth, then added another layer with some colour to the top of the house as it’s shade is a little lighter, and set this layer to ‘hue’ lowering the opacity to 35%:

we can see here that the middle gif has been lightened around the edges, and the right hand gif now has a much stronger colour with the top of the house matching the rest of the gif!

but this still isn’t quite there. the shade of the left hand gif is still a bit lighter and more ‘rosy pink’. so, i cracked out the selective colours! selective colours are a dream when it comes to rainbow sets. all i did here was play around with the magentas using selective colours of each gif to get them to match. 

left hand gif: i darkened the magentas a little and added more cyan tones

middle gif: i lightened the magentas, adding more magenta and yellow tones

right hand gif: i lightened the magentas, adding more magenta and yellow tones. i also added a layer of white with my brush right at the bottom and set this to ‘softlight’ lowering the opacity to 31% to just lighten the ground:

ta-da! now it seems like a cohesive colouring! the key here really is to just play around with your selective colours, look at the gifs together and see how each one matches to the next.

tip 5: transitioning between shades

as said before i really like making my rainbows more of a gradient where we transition through different shades. so i’m gonna walk you through how i work adjusting from one shade to the other and making it look ‘cohesive’. 

so i usually work from line to line. i firstly try to get all of the gifs to match each other in colouring, and then i worry about how that looks in relation to the row above/below it. it’s always good to open your lines together on ps (even if they are in separate gifs) just so you can see how they work next to each other. so i have my first line here all coloured:

i’m currently transitioning from green to yellow so i want the next line to be more of a yellowy tone, but also not too yellow or the transition will be too sudden. so, what i do is create the next line of gifs and colour these also in green, using the same shade of paint brush as i did for the above line:

as we can see the greens match pretty nicely! the only issue of course is that i want the second line to be more yellow. but this is where we go back to our trusty selective colours. so starting with that bottom right gif, i added a selective colour layer reducing the cyans and increasing the yellows, then also a yellow selective colour layer increasing the yellows and magentas, and decreasing the cyans. i also threw in a hue & saturation layer to lighten the yellows so we get this:

now this is definitely stepping the colouring towards yellow, without making it a strong yellow yet (as that’s what my next line will be!). this is therefore a great transition shade between the light green and yellow, and will add a nice cohesive look to the set. with the right hand gif in a shade i like, i then worked on the other two gifs to get them to match the row (as spoken about in tip 4!).

this was again achieved by using selective colours adjustments to decrease cyans and increase yellows under the ‘green’ and ‘yellow’ tones. although for the left hand gif i also added a layer set to ‘color’ on top of all colouring layers at a dark green/yellow shade just to get a stronger colour for the background!

and there we go! we now have a green to yellow transition fade. to create the entire effect i continue like this. for the next line of gifs i would colour them in yellow, and then make any selective colour adjustments needed to create a ‘smooth’ transition, and then move to orange and on to red. i’ve said it before but i’ll say it again: play with selective colours! they are your best friend for making rainbow sets and really do make a world of difference.

the end

and that’s it! i hope the techniques i’ve gone over will help you get your head around rainbows and how best to tackle them. doing a rainbow set can seem daunting because there are a lot of gifs involved, and i will admit they are time consuming, but it is most about repeating techniques over and over again as you move through the rainbow. 

i started on a ‘smaller scale’ of just giffing one of my characters in every episode and trying to make each gif flow as more of a gradient between a few colours, and that was a really great exercise for me on how to manipulate shades and get a set to flow in a cohesive gradient before i built up to a whole rainbow. so if you wanted to experiment with something like that first it might be a good starting point.

anyway, i really hope this helps and as always, if you have any further questions please feel free to ask :)

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed�� made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 60

Masterlist

----

Queen Andromache of Angolere is no stranger to anger. Like most humans, she has never been short of reasons to be angry, and the last seven years of war, for all that they have improved the general situation, have done little to ease that. The general unfairness of life, arrogant allies, hypocritical assholes, people who hate her for being mortal – she’s had to deal with it all.

In all those years, she has never been this angry, though. Never felt this close to combusting. It’s like she swallowed a lump of magma and it’s not lying in her stomach, burning her up from the inside. Even two days after the fact, her anger shows no sign of lessening. Instead, it only seems to grow worse, perhaps because she has not yet found an opportunity to let it out.

When the news arrived two days ago, she didn’t believe it. Outright refused to even consider it. More than five hundred thousand people dead in the blink of an eye – the numbers were too big to consider possible. The idea that Miryam, Drakon, and Mor, Mor especially, were all dead from one day to the next was too horrifying to consider. The notion of something as terrible as this happening after the war had already ended downright impossible. And there were no bodies, no way to be sure.

Andromache spent that entire day curled up in her rooms, first trying to convince herself that this had been some terrible mistake, then struggling to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t. This was real.

The second set of news arrived that evening, chasing her out of her hiding place. The messages from four separate sources – three spies and the person in charge of Telique’s wards – arriving at roughly the same time, all brought the same news: What happened had been no terrible accident, no tragedy with no one to blame. It had been planned and brought about by their own allies. Shey. The Autumn Court. Others as well, many of them unnamed.

Again, Andromache refused to believe it. In general, it is her firm belief that one can never have too low an opinion of the Fae, but this… this still went too far. She could not wrap her mind around it, could not understand how anyone could do this.

Like most people in the Alliance, Andromache was well aware that Shey saw Miryam as a threat. But what she could not imagine no matter how hard she tried was what might have caused the level of hatred that would have been necessary to do something like this. Miryam had, as far as Andromache knew, never done anything that might have given her allies cause to hate her. Dislike, perhaps, but not hate. She certainly gave Shey and cause to hate so fiercely that her death wasn’t enough to satisfy him, that he had to have her killed in the cruellest way possible, killing most of the people she cared about, thousands of innocents, in the process and destroying what she spent most of her life working for.

“I don’t think it was hatred,” Nakia said when Andromache voiced her thoughts to her. “I think he just didn’t care. He wanted Miryam dead – everyone else was just collateral damage. Expendable.”

That was when the anger started.

Now, thirty-one hours later, Andromache feels ready to combust with the force of it. Still, her hands are surprisingly steady as she closes the straps of her armour. There will be an Alliance meeting in half an hour, the first one since Miryam and Drakon (and Mor, although no one but Andromache seems to care much about that crucial detail) died, and Andromache intends to use the opportunity to make the Fae regret it.

Her and the other humans met yesterday to agree on a plan. What they came up with isn’t ideal in Andromache’s mind – it doesn’t involve Shey dying painfully, which is truly a shame. It’s the best they could do in their situation, though, and Andromache sincerely hopes their demands will make the Fae regret their actions.

With one last look into the mirror, Andromache straightens and stalks out of the room. Her steps are firm as she walks through the palace’s halls towards the meeting chamber. A lucky side effect of the anger, she supposes. It doesn’t leave space for any other emotions. Otherwise, she would probably be dissolved in tears, unable to move or function. But even so, she can barely bear to think of Miryam and Drakon, and cannot think of Mor at all without feeling like someone punched her in the chest.

By the time she reaches the meeting chamber, it is already filled halfway. Usually, councilmembers would be chatting with each other before the meeting, the room buzzing with activity, but today, silence reins in the chamber. The tense atmosphere can almost be felt physically, like the air is thick as water and pressing anyone inside the room down with its weight.

Quietly, Andromache takes her seat. The silence is only broken by the ticking of the clock that has been places on the opposite wall. She watches the hand creep forward as more and more people arrive. The time when the meeting was set to begin is reached and passed without anyone stirring. Andromache realizes that everyone at the table is waiting for someone to open the meeting, but Miryam isn’t there and Andromache isn’t inclined to step in for her as she usually does.

Eventually, it is Shey who opens the meeting. When he starts spouting nonsense about what a “terrible tragedy” Miryam’s and Drakon’s death was (he doesn’t mention any of the other people who died) or how “devastated” he was by the news, Andromache immediately regrets not opening the meeting herself. When he starts talking about how much Miryam did for the Alliance and the war effort in general, Andromache briefly contemplates getting up and punching him in the face. It might help take the edge off her anger, but their plan is a different one and Andromache is forced to stick to it.

Finally, Shey seems to be done with his monologue of faked mourning and changes the subject. “Sad as we all are,” he says, “I think Miryam and Drakon, more than anyone else, would want us to focus on the future instead of dwelling on the past.”

Never mind. Andromache is actually going to punch him. “I think they mostly wouldn’t want to be dead along with thousands of their people, you fucking asshole,” she mutters, balling her hands into fists.

Shey’s eyes jump to her, narrowing slightly, but he seems to decide that she isn’t worthy of a reply. “I believe the treaty detailing what should happen now that the war is over is all but ready. All that’s left to do is to sign it.”

“If you think any of us are going to sign that contract after what happened, you’ve lost your mind,” Andromache snaps, louder this time. “Why would we want to work with any of you after this?”

Shey is far too well-trained to show any reaction, but Andromache hopes the bastard is shocked. He probably didn’t expect the stupid little mortals to figure out what he did.

“I don’t – “ he begins, but Andromache is already on her feet. The other human councilmembers rise with her.

“This Alliance is over,” she says, voice biting. “As far as I’m concerned, you can all go drown in an ocean.”

With that, she turns towards the door. As one, the human members of the Alliance walk out of the room. No one makes a move to stop them, no one even says a word. The Fae just remain sitting where they are, looking around the table like they are waiting for someone to find the words to fix the crack that is running through their alliance.

Had Miryam been here, she would have been the one to speak out now. She would have found the right words, maybe even managed to convince them all to keep working together. For the sake of the treaty she wanted so badly, she would probably have been willing to excuse even her own murder.

It’s really too bad for the Fae that they had Miryam killed. Because without her, there is no one there to stop the Alliance from shattering into a million pieces.

Without looking back, Andromache stalks out of the meeting chamber. When she returns to her rooms, she finds Mor sitting on her bed.

----

Mor never planned to simply vanish without a word to anyone, certainly not for an entire week. When first left the Black Land and winnowed straight to the Night Court, she only wanted to stay for a few hours, maybe spend the night in the cabin in the mountains to calm herself before returning to Telique.

But then, almost against her own will, she had found herself staying longer and longer. The cabin was so peaceful, and with each day she stayed, the thought of going back became more daunting. Going back would mean facing what Miryam had done, facing their argument. Probably facing Miryam herself. For all that she knew hiding would only make things worse in the long run, she simply hadn’t found it in herself to return.

So instead, she stayed. She visited Rhys a few times. Sat on the couch by the fire and read. Emptied bottle after bottle of wine and did her best not to think about water turning to blood, ice raining from the sky and the look on Miryam’s face before she left her standing alone in the sand. She didn’t want to return at all, but after a week, there was no way to put it off any further, not if she didn’t want to risk worrying her friends in Telique.

It might already have been too long, Mor thinks as she watches Andromache freeze in the doorway, staring at her like she is a ghost. Maybe she should have sent a letter. But surely Miryam told Andromache about what happened, and knowing that, it should have been clear to anyone that she was safe.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she gets the chance, Andromache snaps out of her paralysis. Letting out a sound that sounds a bit like that of a wounded animal, she rushes towards Mor and sweeps her up in a hug. Her body is shaking, and Mor can feel her damp cheek against her neck. Awkwardly, she begins patting Andromache’s back.

“I’m alright,” she whispers, not entirely understanding why Andromache is this distraught. She wasn’t in any danger, Andromache must have known that. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Andromache lets go of her and holds her at arm’s length so that she can study her. She is still clinging on to Mor’s arms, though, like she is scared to let go.

“How did you get out?” She asks.

Mor frowns. She doesn’t entirely understand the question. “I winnowed,” she says, then quickly adds, “I’m sorry for not writing. I just… I just needed space.”

Now, it is Andromache who seems confused. “What do you mean?” She asks.

Mor can’t help the sinking feeling that they are not entirely on the same page. Could it be that Miryam didn’t tell her about the argument? She wouldn’t have had any reason to keep that information back, though.

“We argued,” she says hesitantly. “I just…” She shrugs. “With what Miryam did… I couldn’t stand it, and she wouldn’t stop. We got into a fight over it. And then I left.”

Andromache stands and stares at her, completely unblinking. Then, slowly, she lets her arms drop to her sides. “What Miryam did?” She repeats, voice dangerously soft. “What Miryam did?”

“Yes, what Miryam did!” Mor replies forcefully. She can’t believe that Andromache seems to be taking Miryam’s side on this. “She burned down an entire country, Andromache! Thousands of people died. She – “

“You’re acting like she did it for fun!” Andromache cuts her off. “There were reasons.”

“What reasons are good enough to murder thousands?” Mor asks, throwing her hands up into the air in desperation. “You weren’t there, Andromache. You don’t know what it was like. This was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and Miryam happily allowed it to happen.”

“Well, then you’ll be relieved to know that Miryam is dead,” Andromache snaps.

The words hit Mor like a punch to the stomach. She actually stumbles back a step, gasping. “What?” She whispers.

“Yes,” Andromache says, her voice cutting as a blade. “Her, Drakon and everyone else.”

No. No. It isn’t possible. None of them were in danger when she left. Miryam was just in the process of single-handedly taking down the entire country, with an army of thousands with her to protect her. She was days away from winning – and actually did win, from the last news Mor heard from an enraged Rhys who complained endlessly about the war ending before he had a chance to kill Amarantha.

They couldn’t have died. They couldn’t have.

Oh Cauldron. Her last conversation with Miryam and Drakon was an argument that ended with Mor storming off. She doesn’t remember what she said to them, only that she was furious and desperate, and that they were both yelling at each other and then Mor left. She left them alone and then they died and she…

Mor presses a hand to her stomach, trying to reign in a sob. “I…” She whispers, but doesn’t manage to finish the sentence. She promised to protect Miryam. And then she left. And Miryam died.

“Get out,” Andromache says, voice still deadly soft.

Mor starts shaking her head. “No, I…”

“What Miryam did?” Andromache throws her words back at her with enough anger that Mor actually flinches. “You’re no better than the others.” With that, she pulls open the door. “And now get out.”

Words are escaping Mor. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Tears are burning in her eyes, blurring her vision. Andromache is still staring at her, gaze hard, and so Mor ducks her head and rushes out of the room.

----

Andromache is shaking with fury. Pain and sorrow will come later, she knows, once she has calmed down enough for the reality of what just happened to sink through, but for the moment, she is just angry. Angry with the entire fucking world, but mostly with Mor, because from her, Andromache expected better.

How could she be so stupidly narrow-minded? What Miryam did. She sounded just like all these other Fae who called Miryam’s actions horrifying and then turned around and had her and five hundred thousand innocents murdered. What Miryam did. What about what the Fae did, now and for centuries prior?

She needs some way to let the anger out, or she might actually explode. With swift steps, she stalks through the room and to the cupboard that holds cups and plates. She is still aware enough of herself to avoid the expensive, gilded ones meant for formal occasions and sticks to the simpler pottery for private dinners.

One by one, she pulls them out of the cupboard and hurls them against a nearby wall, watching them shatter into a million pieces with grim satisfaction, hating the fact that this pointless act of rage is all she can do.

How she wishes she had Miryam’s abilities. If only she was able to turn blood into water, make the sky rein ice and fire and command the sun to stay away as she sees fit. Oh, how she would make them all pay for what they did. She’d show them horrifying.

A knock sounds at the door, interrupting Andromache’s fantasies of setting Shey’s palace on fire. She spins around, dropping the plate she had just pulled out of the shelf, and stalks over to the door. This better not be Mor…

It isn’t. When Andromache pulls open the door so hard it bangs against the wall, she instead comes face to face with Nakia.

“Oh,” she says, awkwardly running a hand through her hair. “Nakia.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” Nakia asks drily. She glances over her shoulder into the room and raises her eyes at the mess. “Someone to help you clean up, perhaps?”

Andromache can feel her cheeks heating. “I will clean that myself,” she says. She won’t make any of the maids clean up a mess she created on purpose.

“Do that. It will have to wait, though. For the moment, you are needed for a meeting. The Fae asked for a meeting; their representative is already there.”

Andromache groans.

--

Andromache would have liked nothing better than to refuse the meeting outright and tell the Fae exactly where they can shove their offers, but unfortunately, that is not an option. There are matters to be discussed, and there is no getting around that necessity.

It was agreed well in advance that Andromache would represent the humans for the meeting, as Angolere is the country whose leader is usually in charge of foreign politics. Andromache only finds out who the Fae sent when she steps into the meeting chamber, though: It is Zeku.

Some part of Andromache realizes that this is likely meant as a peace offering. Ever since the founding of the Alliance, Zeku was one of the Fae who worked together with the humans most closely. He was Miryam’s most prominent Fae ally, her, him and Andromache spent more hours than she can count sitting together over proposals and strategies. The Fae likely assumed his presence would appease Andromache, and under different circumstances, it might have. As it is, though, his presence is just another slap to the face.

“Your Majesty,” Zeku greets her, bowing deeply.

“Zeku.”

Greeting him by name instead of title is a capital insult, but Andromache stopped caring about the Faes’ rules for politeness the moment these rules didn’t stop them from murdering more than five hundred thousand people. All these rules ever did was bar anyone who didn’t have a Fae noble’s education from being taken seriously in their political meetings. Andromache played by their rules for far too long.

Zeku ignores the insult and takes the seat opposite her. He opens his mouth to speak, but Andromache cuts in before he gets the chance. Every moment she has to spend in the presence of someone like him is one too much.

“To make this clear right at the beginning,” she says, “I’m not here to play games. There are some issues that need to be settled, and I have no interest in spending more time than absolutely necessary in your presence, so I’d appreciate if we could deal with this as quickly as possible.”

Zeku sighs. “Alright, then,” he says, “But before we begin, just allow me to say how terribly sorry I am about what happened.”

Yeah, sure. She believes that right away. Once that conversation is over, though, he might actually be sorry.

“Well, I believe it ought to be clear to anyone that the continuation of the Alliance is no longer possible. The treaty we worked on is a thing of the past, as are any agreements we came to. We can no longer trust you, and so working together is no longer an option.”

Zeku, at the very least, does her the favour of not pretending he doesn’t know what she is talking about. “I know what happened was unforgivable,” he says, “but Miryam wouldn’t want – “

“Don’t,” Andromache cuts him off, voice sharp as a whip. “Don’t you dare talk to me about what Miryam would have wanted.”

Zeku lifts his hands as if warding off a physical attack. “Alright,” he says. “Forgive me. But the point remains that we need to work together. The situation is far from ideal, but together, you and I could still turn it around.”

Andromache lets out a sharp laugh. “You and I? Together?” She shakes her head, laughing again. “No, thank you. With what happened to the last human who worked together with you, I have little interest. Maybe if you wanted this alliance, you should have made sure she stayed alive.”

“I had no involvement – “ Zeku begins, but Andromache cuts him off.

“Oh, spare me,” she snaps. “Miryam might been willing to listen to your explanation. She might have played along with your game, pretended she believed and trusted you and maybe even agreed to work together with you again in spite of everything. For peace. She really wanted that, you know? A world where humans and Fae could live together in peace and equality. For that, she might even have been willing to look past what your friends did. But I am not Miryam.”

“I am aware,” Zeku says quietly.

“Maybe, but you don’t seem to understand what it means.” None of the Fae ever understood, and they never bothered to try, either. “You and your Fae friends always thought that Miryam was the only one of us worthy of being taken seriously, didn’t you? That the rest of us were meek and harmless and unimportant, and that without Miryam, we would be lost. Because she was the only one who could play by these stupid rules for politics you had designed to keep anyone who isn’t Fae nobility from being taken seriously in politics. She could smile and talk and behave just right, and she had magic, and so you took her seriously and dismissed the rest of us.”

“I never dismissed you,” Zeku says. “And you were always quite willing to take a backseat while Miryam dealt with everything, so you have little grounds to complain about any conclusions people draw from that.”

Andromache presses her lips together. How dare he bring this up, act like what happened was somehow their fault for making Miryam get involved? As if the human leadership at the beginning of the war willingly decided that an eighteen-year-old was the perfect fit for emissary. The entire reason they had to give Miryam that position was that there had been no one else. Learning Fae politics was a matter of years, and the humans lacked diplomats skilled in the rules the Fae so valued. That they found someone who was able to fill the position at all was a minor miracle in itself.

She doesn’t say that they only let Miryam take the lead because she was the only one able to navigate the Fae political landscape that had been so skilfully designed to keep anyone but them out, though, because that would only be one part of the truth. The unimportant part, for this specific conversation.

“None of us ever wanted to work with the Fae, did you know that?” She gives him a sharp smile. “We didn’t trust you. It was Miryam who convinced us to give it a try. She said we needed allies, and that there would be Fae territories that would be willing to help us.”

“And she was right,” Shey says. “We helped you win this war.”

“Yes,” Andromache says softly. “Miryam was right – she managed to secure us the alliance she had promised, she managed to make things work, and so we went along with her plans. We ignored the countless offences your side committed against us because Miryam had her strategy and it was working. And then, when she insisted that the only way to get peace to work after the war was to find a way to work together, to build bridges between our people, we went along with that as well. Because we trusted her, because you seemed to respect her.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Do you understand now?” She asks. “We weren’t scared and meek without Miryam. She was the one who convinced us to work with you in the first place. But then, you killed her and you made it entirely clear that our lives are worthless to you, that no matter how much we try to work with you, you will never see us as equal.”

Zeku nods slowly. His face is grave. Now, he finally seems to understand. “So what now?” He asks.

Andromache leans back in her chair. “Miryam wanted to build bridges,” she says. “We were willing to go along with that, willing to give it a try, but then you killed her. So now what you are getting is a wall.”

----

Shey is waiting in one of the private meeting chambers. He is lounging on one of the chairs, idly flipping through the pages of a book that he snaps shut when Zeku enters.

“Your Highness,” he says with a slight smile, sitting up straighter. “How did the meeting with Their Majesties go?”

In answer, Zeku takes a slip of paper out of the pocket of his coat and throws it onto the table in front of Shey. “A list of discrete assassins and ways to contact them, since you don’t seem to know about the possibility of discrete assassinations yet,” he says. “You might want to look into it to save us any further scandals.”

Shey very deliberately places his book on the table. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he says.

“Kindly do me the favour and explain that to Andromache and the other human queens. That might be amusing.” He shakes his head. “They know. And they are none too pleased, if you will allow the understatement.”

Shey, at the very least, does him the favour of not denying his actions a second time. After the meeting he just had, he doesn’t think he would be able to stand Shey’s games. He just shrugs. “Forgive me if I’m not shaking with fear at the prospect.”

The longer this conversation lasts, the more does Zeku understand Andromache’s feelings towards Fae nobility and their politics. To think that there was a time when he enjoyed these games… Now, all he can feel is disgust.

“You went too far,” he says, shaking his head. “This time, you really went too far, Shey.”

Shey waves him off. “It was a neat solution,” he says. “Everyone who had any cause for interest in Miryam died with her.”

“There are literally millions of humans who have a cause for interest in Miryam.”

Shey snorts. “Oh, not these mortals and their exaggerated sense of solidarity or whatever they call it, acting like any harm done to one of them is somehow a direct attack on all of them. If you ask me, they are just using it as an excuse to make themselves into the victims and give themselves the moral high ground in any given situation. Or do you see any Fae complaining about Drakon and his soldiers getting killed?”

That he thinks this is a negative reflection on the humans, not the Fae, probably says everything that needs to be said about what kind of person he is. Zeku doesn’t want to imagine what it will do to the Alliance – the entire Continent – if he gets put in charge. Had Miryam only been a little bit smarter, a bit more willing to play to win… She had everything necessary to leave her in charge of the Continent after the war ended. But she didn’t have the nerve to go through with it, and how did it end? Her dead, everything she was working for in shambles and the Continent in Shey’s hands.

Zeku could scream at how stupidly unnecessary all of it is.

Instead, he merely offers the barest shrug at Shey’s comment. “Regardless of their motives, our human allies seem out for your head over this.”

“So what if they do?” Shey asks. “Miryam is dead. Without her, there is little they can do.”

“They seem to disagree,” Zeku says. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help but feel a little smug. “Andromache says they have proof. And that she will happily make it public should you not meet their demands.” He smiles slightly. “Not only will you and your friends be revealed as honourless in front of the entire Continent for betraying your own allies, I also imagine that some people will be rather cross with you for murdering hundreds of thousands of innocent humans after we justified that entire war with wanting to save the humans.”

Shey doesn’t reply. Maybe he just considers for the first time that justifying a war with wanting the protect the humans and then turning around to casually murder five hundred thousand of them was not a particularly smart move. Not to mention that over the past years, Miryam became the face of the entire war effort, which not only brought her a whole lot of popularity, but also made her into a symbol. And turning against the symbol for the war they just won is political suicide.

For a brief moment, Shey’s calm demeanour cracks as he seems to realize that he just made a catastrophic mistake. Then, he catches himself, summoning a calm expression again.

“What is their price?” He asks, voice entirely business-like.

Zeku wonders what he is hoping for. What price would, in his mind, be able to make up for a betrayal like this, the loss of thousands of lives? Knowing Shey, he probably doesn’t imagine it will be too much. A bit of money, maybe, or land. Trading rights and favourable treaties. A small price, as is appropriate for lives that were entirely worthless to him.

“Half of our world,” Zeku counters calmly. And yes, he does enjoy the look on Shey’s face at the reply. “They are withdrawing their consent to the treaty I worked out with Andromache, Miryam and Drakon.” Well, mostly Drakon. “They no longer trust us to live side by side with them, so they have come up with their own solution: They want to divide the Continent in two. One half to the them, the other to us, and a wall in the middle. They’ll take the south.”

For a few heartbeats, Shey says nothing at all. Then, he asks very slowly, “Have these mortal fools completely lost their minds?”

Zeku shrugs again. “They don’t trust us anymore, not after what happened, and I honestly cannot blame them.”

“And they truly think they will get away with that?” Shey lets out a laugh and jumps to his feet. “I’ll have them assassinated before I meet these ridiculous demands.”

“I am sure they have plans for that scenario,” Zeku says. “And should this be made public, I imagine they would have quite a few supporters. Miryam was very popular, as you know, and you might find many Fae care more than you anticipated. Especially since there were also so many Fae amongst those you had killed.”

Shey wrinkles his nose in disdain. “Lesser faeries,” he says.

And what am I? Zeku thinks, fighting the sudden surge of anger. Anger at Shey. At himself. After all, he always knew what kind of person Shey was, and still, he chose the way he did. Withdrew support for Miryam and hoped… yes, what did he hope for? That Shey’s disregard for human and faerie lives wouldn’t carry on into his style of ruling? That he would follow through with the promises Miryam had made after replacing her?

Maybe he should have risked sticking up for Miryam. Should have made it clearer to her what was at stake, helped her work out a way to come out of this on top. Instead, he took the safe route and withdrew support, marked his wager in working with her down as failed and cut his losses.

A mistake. All of it was a mistake.

You’re a coward, Miryam’s voice says in his head. He can still see her so clearly, standing in that hallway with tears in her eyes and fury on her face. I hope this haunts you.

A bitter smile twists Zeku’s mouth. It will, he thinks. Don’t you worry, Miryam. It will.

“You would do better to do as they say,” Zeku says. “Because if you don’t – or if you get the brilliant idea to make them disappear the way you did with Miryam – I can assure you that you will have a problem. Should it come to war, I will be the first one to side with them against you, but I will not be the last.”

Shey stares at him in disbelief. He opens his mouth as if to reply, then closes it again. Of course. He isn’t used to getting push-back.

“You went too far,” Zeku repeats. “And it will always be my greatest shame that I didn’t stop you sooner. But if you think I will let you take this any further, you are dead-wrong.”

If him and Andromache were still allies, he might have begged her to allow him and his people to join them on their side of the wall that is soon to be built. But he lost that alliance the moment he decided to cut ties with Miryam and he knows perfectly well that there is no getting it back.

He played. And he lost. And now, he will have to pay.

----

Without corpses, there is no real need to hold a funeral. Unless, of course, you are Fae and want to make a grand gesture about how terribly sorry you are about the death of the people you had killed, and so the Fae seem to have made it their mission to hold the most dramatic funeral possible for Miryam, Drakon and the others, perhaps in a vain attempt to cover up their guilt.

Had the idea come from anyone else, Andromache might even have been willing to admit that she thinks holding some kind of ceremony is the right thing to do. As things are, though, it only feels like a cheap publicity stunt. Hundreds of thousands of pyres erected, one for every single person who died during that battle, all of them lit at the same time – this isn’t a show of respect, it’s a political spectacle and Andromache hates everything about it.

The worst part is that she wasn’t even able to argue against the idea, not without making it seem like she doesn’t want to honour Miryam and the other dead. So instead, she has decided to use the entire situation to her advantage. Shey wants to use this funeral to improve his image? Fine, then Andromache will ruin that plan as thoroughly as she can.

The good thing about ceremonies like that is that everything, down to the choice of clothes, sends a message. Shey has apparently decided to show to the entire world how much he mourns Miryam’s death and respected her. He is wearing black with blue details, showing his mourning and pretending to the entire world that he respected Miryam, looked up to her.

Andromache and the other human councilmembers appear entirely in red.

Their choice of clothes draws stares as they arrive at the ceremony together. Miryam wore red details on her dress for Jurian’s funeral, but that was a different matter – then, at least everyone knew who she wanted to get revenge at. Now, with the war over and Ravenia, who is officially responsible for every death that occurred, dead, no one understands why the entire human fraction of the Alliance is publicly declaring that they want revenge.

Shey steps in Andromache’s way before she reaches her place at the front of the assembled crowd. His face is almost as red as Andromache’s dress. “What do you think you are doing?” He snaps.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Andromache asks, then glances down at her dress like she is only now realizing what his problem might be. “Oh, that. Well, I thought the choice of colour in a dress should reflect our feelings regarding the death.” She frowns at Shey. “Although you don’t seem to have taken that all too seriously yourself. What colour says ‘I had the deceased assassinated’ again?”

“Will you be quiet?” Shey hisses, looking around frantically to see if anyone heard. “I agreed to your demands, and in return, you were meant to keep your silence. If you aren’t able to do that, our agreement is over.”

“You are the one who made this funeral into a farce!” Andromache snaps back. “This isn’t an opportunity for you to improve your image and if you had any sense of decency whatsoever, you would never have tried.”

With that, she shoulders past him and goes to take her place with the other humans.

“Remarkable show of restraint,” Nakia says by way of greeting. “I thought you’d break his nose.”

Andromache shrugs. “Might still, depending on his bad his speech is.”

The first speech isn’t Shey’s, though. It is hers.

Andromache struggled against the suggestion that she should hold the opening speech. To her, it felt like she would be assuming a position she never held. She was a close friend with both Miryam and Drakon, yes, but she was never closest to either of them, and she didn’t know most of the others who died at all. It was only when she realized that anyone who was closer to them than her had died in that battle that she agreed to hold the speech.

Slowly, she steps forward, red dress shifting around her feet. She will not have to light any of the pyres as would be human tradition; they will be magically lit at the end of her speech with her only needing to give a signal. It feels wrong, somehow. Pyres are meant to be lit by hand, the person who was closest to them doing them that final service and bidding them goodbye in doing so. Magic takes away all of the intimacy of the moment.

Everything about this funeral-that-isn’t-one feels wrong. It is unworthy. Miryam and Drakon and all these countless others would have deserved better.

They would also have deserved a better speech than the one Andromache ends up giving. She did her best to find the proper words, she truly did. What point is there in talking about all the things that were wonderful about them, as if putting into words all that she lost will somehow make it better. Why would she tell the world about all the things Miryam and Drakon and the others would have wanted and deserved from the future, as if the one thing they would have wanted and deserved wasn’t to be alive. How can she call this a tragedy when she knows that in truth, it was a crime?

The only words Andromache wants to say are ones made from anger, condemning the ones responsible for these deaths, but those, she cannot speak, and there are no other words that might mean anything in the face of such a terrible, senseless crime. She still tries, and she fails, and she knows she does even as she holds her speech.

She is relieved when she is finally done and gets to return to her place. The pyres are lit by magic and Andromache tries to comfort herself with the fact that there are no bodies, anyways, that Miryam and Drakon and all the others are dead and will never know about the farce that is their funeral. It is no comfort at all, though.

The rest of the ceremony passes far too slowly. Andromache stands in her place, stares at the flickering flames and ignores the speeches the others hold. She only notices it is finally over when people start moving around her. She leaves her place as well, wandering around aimlessly for a bit. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to eat, or drink. She cannot stand this.

Andromache turns away from the ceremony and stalks off into the darkness. Away from the crowds and the noise and the fire. Away from the empty pyres and the Fae pretending they care about the deaths that occurred.

For the first few steps, her posture remains stiff, her steps fast and firm with anger. But as she walks through the night, her anger seems to dissolve like smoke in the wind. It leaves her feeling cold and alone. Empty. Soon, her vision is blurry with tears and she is stumbling more than walking.

How could everything have gone wrong so quickly? Mere days ago, she was giddy with happiness, drinking to victory and a bright future with the others, but now… Now, Miryam and Drakon and so many others are dead, and she cannot imagine ever speaking to Mor again, much less spending the future together as they planned. Everything she had wanted for her future, blown apart in one terrible day.

She lets herself drop to the ground, not caring if the damp grass stains her dress, rests her head on her knees and cries.

There is a soft rustling in front of her. Andromache is on her feet within moments, hand going for the dagger she has hidden under her dress. She is suddenly acutely aware that she is all alone out here, no guards in sight, and almost unarmed.

“Who’s there?” She calls, slowly drawing her dagger.

No one answers, but there is another rustle. This time, Andromache can place where the noise is coming from. She looks down and finds a falcon sitting on a small rock a few feet away from her, staring at her from amber eyes. Andromache stares back.

Birds usually avoid people. They do not land mere feet away from them, or remain sitting this still. Andromache points her dagger at the bird, trying to shoo it away, but it merely cocks its head to the side and hops a step closer to her. There is something fastened around its neck.

Rationally, Andromache knows that there are several people who could be responsible for this. Miryam wasn’t the only witch in the world, and even discounting people who are able to control animals, there’s always the chance of some Fae or another being able to shapeshift into one to use its form to trick her. Rationally, Andromache knows perfectly well that it is a terrible idea to approach a weird animal with some item fastened around its neck. Unfortunately, that knowledge is overridden completely by the fact that the only person she ever met who had a particular affinity for animals was Miryam, and Miryam favoured falcons. And they didn’t find a body.

Slowly, Andromache steps towards the falcon. It doesn’t make a move to flee, merely looks up at her. Andromache crouches down and reaches for it. If I get ambushed now, that will be entirely on me, she things as she carefully unties the thin bit of rope fastened around its neck.

A small amulet falls into her waiting palm. It appears to be bronze, with a blue stone in the middle. Andromache frowns down at it, then at the falcon who is still watching her.

“And what am I supposed to do now?” She asks.

The bird clicks its beak and hops from one foot to the other. If there is any message hidden in that reaction, Andromache fails to understand it. She turns her attention back on the amulet, turns it around in her fingers. Nothing happens, but she notices that the stone seems slightly loose.

“What are the odds of me getting cursed from this?” She asks softly.

The bird offers no reply, and so Andromache reaches for the stone and turns it around once. There is a flash of light. When it recedes, Andromache is no longer standing on the soft forest floor, but on hard earth. She stumbles forward and might have fallen had there not been a hand ready to steady her.

Slowly, she looks up. Miryam and Drakon are standing in front of her, both very much alive.

----

An hour after the official part of the ceremony has ended, Mor is already drunk. She has foregone the food entirely and instead gone to the drinks directly after the last speech ended, and then proceeded to methodically empty one wine bottle after another.

By now, she is three-quarters through the third bottle and a merciful numbness in beginning to set in. Everything still sucks, but it no longer feels like someone is twisting a knife in her chest. She even manages to look over at Andromache, who looks particularly beautiful and just as furious in her red dress and ignores Mor entirely, without feeling like she is dying. Maybe with a few more bottles, it will stop hurting altogether.

She drains the rest of her bottle and makes for the table with the wine again, slightly unsteady on her feet. Once, she stumbles over her own feet and crashes into one of the other guests. With a mumbled “sorry” she continues on, finally reaching the safe haven of the table. She clings on to it with one hand as she carefully places the empty bottle on the table and reaches for a new one. Bounty in hand, she retreats back into the crowd.

The fires are still burning, and the light stings her eyes. So many fires… So many dead people… Miryam’s face flashes in her mind, the coldness in her eyes as they last spoke. Drakon telling her she went too far. Andromache, who isn’t dead but seems to wish Mor was, telling her she is no better than the rest.

She opens the bottle and goes back to drinking. Halfway through that bottle, the pain dulls to a soft throb and she begins to feel better about herself. Yes, everything is all horrible, but she sort of feels like she is floating, and the fires are very pretty. Like little glittering jewels.

Maybe she should talk to Andromache now. The prospect no longer feels as daunting as it did an hour ago. She will talk to her and tell her… well, she will think of something to tell her.

Mor drains the last of her bottle, letting it drop to the ground, and tries to stand up on her toes to scan the crowd for Andromache. Her sense of balance isn’t entirely up to the task anymore, though, because she begins to sway dangerously and stumbles. She would have fallen had there not been a pair of hands taking her by the shoulders and pushing her upright again.

“Oops,” Mor mutters.

The hands let go of her shoulders but remain nearby, as if waiting to catch her should she fall again. Mor looks around for the owner of the hands, finding a dark-skinned Fae standing in front of her. It takes her a few moments to work through the haze in her mind and place his face, then she smiles slowly.

“Helion. Want some wine?” She wants to offer him her bottle, but then realizes it’s not in her hands anymore. She looks around for it until she remembers that she dropped it earlier. “I’ll get us a new one.” Cauldron, forming words is difficult. Her tongue isn’t cooperating the way it should and the ground seems to have started swaying under her feet. She stumbles and Helion grips her by the shoulder again.

“No, thank you,” he says. “And you should probably switch to water for the rest of the evening, too.”

Mor shakes her head. “Spoilsport,” she mutters but doesn’t resist as Helion starts leading her towards the food.

“’m looking for An…” She stumbles over the name. Frowning with concentration, she tries again. “Andromache.” It comes out almost correctly. “She was very mean to me,” she adds. “Not nice at all. Not fair. Wasn’ my fault.”

Helion raises one eyebrow. “I think she left already,” he says, handing her a plate.

Mor looks down at the steaming food – and bursts out crying. It’s all so terribly sad. The entire world is sad and bad and hopeless, and Andromache hates her, and Miryam and Drakon are dead and it’s all because of her.

“’s my fault,” she mutters, words coming out even more unclearly now. “I was supposed to… to keep them safe and…”

Helion wraps an arm around her shoulders. His arm is very warm and very nice, and it makes more cry even harder.

“It isn’t your fault,” he says. “You couldn’t have known what would happen when you left – no one could have anticipated this.”

Mor buries her face in his jacked, sniffing. “But I said…” she begins. She would have continued the sentence, would have told him about all the horrible things she said as well as she remembers, but her mouth stops cooperating.

“Alright,” Helion says, and Mor feels herself lifted off her feet and picked up. “I’m bringing you to your rooms now, and tomorrow…” Helion hesitates. “Well, I’m sure things will look better tomorrow.”

There is a hint of bitterness in his voice, like he doesn’t believe what he is saying himself, but in her state, Mor doesn’t notice. She only vaguely registers that she is being carried up some stares and gently tucked into bed before she slips off into merciful oblivion.

----

For a few heartbeats, Andromache merely stands frozen in place and stares. A part of her wants to scream at them, shout her fury because how dare they scare her like that? Another part just wants to hug them, somehow convince herself that they are real.

“Andromache,” Miryam whispers and takes a step forward.

That breaks the spell. Andromache darts forward as well and wraps her arm around her neck. Hot tears sting on her cheeks.

“It’s alright,” Miryam whispers. “We’re alright.”

Andromache lets go of her and turns to hug Drakon. The first minutes after that are so hectic that Andromache only barely manages to keep track, the initial happiness giving way to fresh worry quickly. All three of them seem to be talking at once, questions and answers and more questions buzzing through the air. It would have gone far more quickly had they talked it through calmly, but they are all far from calm. Andromache can barely believe what she is hearing – the ocean parted, a battle on the ocean floor. It is a miracle that they all survived.

“Maybe we should go away from the camp for a bit,” Drakon suggests, nodding to the onlookers that have gathered.

“Good idea,” Andromache says, and Miryam, who has been unusually quiet after the initial excitement died down, nods as well.

They find a quiet place a bit away from the camp where the forest meets the ocean, only just within the bounds of the wards. Miryam leans against a tree, staring out at the ocean. Drakon sits down on the trunk of an upturned tree. Andromache remains standing.

“If you want, we can declare war that very day,” she says.

It’s an idea that has been passed back and forth between Nakia and Andromache ever since the news about what Shey did arrived. So far, they’ve always had to decide against it. They lack the military force to be able to successfully fight the Fae, and with so many of theirs newly freed from slavery, they cannot spare the resources. But with Miryam, who has shown herself capable of taking down entire countries by herself and who might be able to gather them support amongst the Fae… They would actually stand a chance.

Miryam doesn’t react at all, though. From the way she keeps staring at the ocean, unmoving, unblinking, Andromache almost thinks she didn’t hear her at all.

Drakon reacts, though. He spins around to her like she slapped him. “What?” He asks, managing to put all the disbelief in the world into the word.

“Declare war,” Andromache repeats. “That is the common reaction to a betrayal like this, isn’t it? Any Fae country on the Continent would do the same thing, so why shouldn’t we?”

“Because the only thing it would accomplish is get thousands of people killed and potentially undo years of work!” Drakon answers with more force than is usual for him. “What could you hope to accomplish?”

“What else could I do?” Andromache shoots back. “We need to react in some way, we can’t just allow them to walk all over us like that. They were willing to kill thousands of us. I wouldn’t expect you to understand – “

“Stop,” Miryam cuts her off, turning in a quick, precise motion away from the ocean. “They were willing to kill Drakon and his soldiers right alongside us – most of the people who actually did die were faeries.”

Andromache deflates slightly. She sighs and turns to Drakon. “Sorry,” she says. “I just…” She shrugs.

“You’re currently in the mood to strangle any Fae you come across?” Drakon suggests. “Understandable. No offence taken.”

Still, Miryam has a point. Maybe Andromache was wrong to draw the lines in this conflict simply as humans against Fae. In reality, the High Fae don’t have much more respect for faeries than for humans. There’s a total of two faerie rulers on the entire Continent, and for all that Shey just proved he didn’t care about killing thousands of humans to get what he wanted, he did the same to the faeries who were involved. Drakon’s status and the protection it should have offered stopped him as little as Miryam’s.

It’s an interesting thought. Isolated, it might be difficult for the humans to fight back, but if they were to work together with the faeries, if they realized that the differences between humans and faeries are far smaller than the ones between faeries and High Fae… An interesting thought indeed.

Unfortunately, Drakon’s thoughts don’t seem to go into that direction.

“War won’t make anything better, though,” he says. “This isn’t like this war where we had a clear, manageable goal: Ending slavery. That was simple. But how do you plan to win a war against the fact that they don’t see humans as equal?” He shakes his head. “Short of killing every one of them, what way is there to resolve this issue through war?”

He looks at Andromache like he expects her to say something. She remains silent. She hadn’t thought this far yet. Of course she doesn’t want to kill all Fae, not in the slightest. She doesn’t even hate them all, she just… How can Shey and the others get away with what they did?

“All a war would accomplish is kill millions of innocents,” Drakon says. “And we’ve already…” He shakes his head and starts over. “This war has already taken things so far. What lines are left that haven’t been crossed yet? And if we take this any further, if we now start a war with our former allies… it will tear this entire continent apart. And it will hardly even matter who wins, because either way, millions of innocent people will die and reconciliation or peace will be made impossible for generations to come.”

Andromache wrinkles her nose, but she is still unable to argue. That was also one of the reasons why Nakia especially argued against the idea of a military solution: To start a war now would mean to risk everything they have won.

“Drakon is right,” Miryam says. “War is not the solution. Too many innocents have already been dragged into this – I won’t allow for any more people to be made into collateral damage by jumping onto Shey’s game of trying to murder each other in the most catastrophic way possible.”

Andromache refrains from saying that this goes far beyond a political powerplay. She doesn’t want to argue with Miryam over something like that.

“The treaty is the best chance for peace we have,” Miryam says. “I won’t let Shey’s actions ruin that. I know circumstances are far from ideal, but we can still make it work.”

Andromache stares at her, not quite believing what she is hearing. After all that happened, how can Miryam still talk of her treaty? How does she not realize that this treaty died the second Shey betrayed them. Andromache wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she starts seeing sense. She has to forcefully remind herself that Miryam is likely still in shock from what happened and is desperately clinging to a solution that is no longer possible as a way to cope.

“That’s not happening,” she says as calmly as she can manage. “That treaty relied on mutual trust, and after what happened, I cannot see that coming about anytime soon.”

Miryam and Drakon both look like she slapped them. It actually makes Andromache feel bad for them. Her own stakes in that treaty were always low, she really mostly went along with it because Miryam and Drakon were so very convinced that it was the only way, but for them… She doesn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to watch a thing you believed in and spent years working for fall apart before your eyes.

“And what will you do instead?” Drakon asks.

“We have decided to split up the world. One half to the Fae, the other to the humans and a wall in the middle to keep us safe.”

Drakon frowns. “What kind of wall would that be?” He asks, but Miryam is staring at Andromache, wide-eyed.

“No,” she whispers. “No, Andromache. You cannot do that. Please. It isn’t necessary, there is still another way.”

The desperation on her face stings. Andromache wants nothing more than to give in, if only to wipe that look off her face, but she cannot. Not on this.

“I’m sorry,” she says, more softly this time. “But this is the way it is going to happen. You don’t want war, so I will not start one in your name. But after what happened, there cannot be peace either.”

Miryam shakes her head. Straightens. “Just give me one more chance,” she says. It’s the same tone she always has when she tries to convince people that she can handle a situation she cannot handle. “Let me talk to the Fae. I can still fix this.”

Andromache slowly shakes her head. “Are you out of your mind?” She asks. It is a struggle to keep her voice controlled. “They tried to kill you, Miryam. All of you. What do you think will happen if you go back?”

“This treaty needs to go through!” Miryam retorts. “This is important. It’s more important than… If we are to ever have peace, we need to find a way to live together. You – “

“Miryam stop,” Andromache snaps. Now, she actually does take her by the shoulders and shakes her slightly. “Do you truly want to die over this? Because this is what’s going to happen if you go back. They are going to kill you.”

“They already did,” Miryam mutters.

That throws Andromache off, but only for a moment. Chances are Miryam is just being dramatic, and if she wasn’t… well, then she will have to deal with that later.

“If you go back, you will die, and your death will be completely pointlessly,” she says, “You will not reach your goals, only get yourself killed. Is that truly what you want your life to be? Sixteen years as a slave, two years on the run and seven years of war. Killed at twenty-five in some pointless political struggle.”

Miryam starts to cry. Drakon makes to rise, but Andromache is faster, wrapping her arms around her.

“It doesn’t need to end like this,” she whispers. “You can still live, Miryam. You have won. Don’t just throw your life away like that.”

Miryam steps away from Andromache, already wiping her tears away again. She still looks completely miserable, though, as she lets herself drop onto the trunk next to Drakon.

“But what options do we have?” Drakon asks. He looks no less miserable than Miryam. “If we cannot go back, if we will never be safe after what happened, then what about the people in our camp? They are witnesses as much as we are. Some of these people have homes. Families. We have a home. We can’t just leave that, even if we had a way to vanish hundreds of thousands of people.”

Andromache bites her lip. She didn’t think of that yet. For the humans, she supposes she might be able to hide them amongst the other newly-freed slaves, since Fae never pay much attention to humans, but even then, there would be the problem of word of what Shey did getting around. And there is no hiding the Seraphim at all, not amongst the humans and not anywhere else. Miryam and Drakon alone might hope to hide somewhere, but what would the point be if their people were still left in danger?

She briefly contemplates saying that if they were to go to war, none of that would be a problem. But that would be a very cruel way to push Miryam and Drakon to take her side. Give up your home or agree to a war you know to be wrong is not a particularly fair choice, and certainly not one she should ask of her friends.

“We can’t just vanish,” Drakon continues. “And Andromache, you can’t just split the Continent in two and build a wall in the middle. How would that even work? Do you expect millions of people to get up and leave their countries to march to the other end of the Continent and settle down there? That’s a terrible idea, not to mention that the kind of wall you seem to be thinking of won’t be easy to get.”

Miryam seems distinctly uncomfortable in her skin. Apparently, she never told Drakon about the wall spell. Understandable, Andromache supposes. Until now, none of them ever thought that spell would become relevant.

“Let’s just assume that the wall is happening,” Andromache says. Let Miryam talk that one through with Drakon on her own. “The issue is what we do with you two.”

“No, that’s not the issue!” Miryam replies. “The issue is that this wall is a downright terrible idea and – “

“And not your choice to be made,” Andromache finishes. “The decision was unanimous, Miryam. I’m sorry, but even you cannot change that.”

Neither Miryam nor Drakon argue any further after this. Miryam merely reaches for Drakon’s hand, and then, they are sitting side by side in complete silence.

Andromache feels terrible about herself. The last thing she ever wanted was to hurt them with the solution she came up with, but there seems to be no way around it. She firmly believes that the wall is the only was to guarantee the humans’ safety in the long run, and for that to work out, Miryam, Drakon and their people need to disappear. It means that they will not get the future they wanted, and that Drakon and his people will have to give up their homes, and it is far from fair but Andromache doesn’t see a way around it so she simply stands around and stares down at her feet in shame.

Finally, it is Miryam who breaks the silence. “I think I know somewhere we could go,” she says softly. “Somewhere they would never find us. Where we would be safe.”

----

Tags: @femtopulsed @croissantcitysucks @aileywrites

[dark-and-twisty-01]

Derek Chauvin Has Been Found Guilty Of Murder In George Floyd’s Killing {Shared from Buzzfeed News}

The former Minneapolis cop, who pressed his knee on Floyd’s neck until he took his last breath, was convicted of all charges in a defining moment of the country’s reckoning over police brutality.

Derek Chauvin was found guilty of murder and manslaughter Tuesday in George Floyd's killing, a rare conviction of a police officer that was aided in part by an excruciating video that sparked outrage and demands for racial justice around the world.

The former Minneapolis police officer, who pressed his knee on Floyd’s neck for more than nine minutes as the Black man repeatedly cried out “I can’t breathe,” was convicted of all three charges — second-degree murder, third-degree murder, and second-degree manslaughter.

Chauvin was handcuffed and taken into custody immediately after the judge revoked his bail.

He faces 12 and a half years in prison for second-degree murder, according to Minnesota’s sentencing guidelines, but prosecutors intend to ask for a higher sentence. The maximum penalty is up to 40 years. The sentencing is expected to take place after eight weeks.

The jury deliberated for around 10 hours before reaching their verdict. After the verdict was read, trial judge Peter Cahill thanked them "for not only jury service, but for heavy-duty jury service."

“Painfully earned justice has arrived for George Floyd’s family and the community here in Minneapolis, but today’s verdict goes far beyond this city and has significant implications for the country and even the world,” attorneys for the Floyd family said in a statement.

“Justice for Black America is justice for all of America. This case is a turning point in American history for accountability of law enforcement and sends a clear message we hope is heard clearly in every city and every state," the statement said.
​

The highly anticipated verdict comes as Minneapolis — and the nation — grapples with the outrage and trauma of watching a police officer kill yet another Black man, Daunte Wright, about a week ago.

The trial has again focused the country's attention on police killings in the United States. Since the first day of testimony, more than 60 Americans have died during encounters with law enforcement, according to a tally by the New York Times. Black or Latino people represented more than half those killed. Just hours before Minnesota prosecutors made their opening statements, 13-year-old Adam Toledo was shot dead by a Chicago police officer while he had his hands in the air.

Floyd’s death over a fake $20 bill, which was captured on a viral video last May, sparked a national reckoning over police brutality and racial justice. And Chauvin’s murder trial — livestreamed to millions — became a test of whether the US criminal justice system could meet the moment.
​

Two questions were at the center of the nearly three-week trial: What was Floyd’s cause of death? And was Chauvin’s use of force lawful?

A team of prosecutors for the state sought to prove that Chauvin’s actions of restraining Floyd with his knee for 9 minutes and 29 seconds, coupled with his failure to provide medical aid, led to Floyd’s death on May 25, 2020.

Chauvin’s attorney, Eric Nelson, argued that the officer’s use of force looked “awful” but was “lawful” and that Floyd’s ingestion of illegal drugs and his heart disease caused his death.

For the jury — comprised of six white people and six people of color — there was no dearth of visual evidence. As one witness, a forensic pathologist, said, "I've never had a case like this that had such thorough documentation of the terminal events.”

Jurors were shown multiple videos from cellphones, body-worn cameras, and surveillance tapes that captured every minute and angle of the deadly encounter; from the time Floyd used a counterfeit $20 bill at the Cup Foods store to the final moments of his life under the weight of Chauvin’s knee.

The jury heard from several bystanders, including teenagers, a 9-year-old girl, an off-duty firefighter, and a 61-year-old man, many of whom cried as they recalled in gutting detail, their growing concern at watching Floyd die and the guilt and helplessness they felt in being unable to save him.

It's been nights I stay up apologizing and apologizing to George Floyd for not doing more and not physically interacting and not saving his life,” Darnella Frazier, the teen who took the viral video of Floyd’s arrest, told the court in tears. “But it's not what I should have done," she said, before referencing Chauvin. "It's what he should have done."

In a rare occurrence of police calling out one of their own, several high-ranking Minneapolis police officers testified that Chauvin violated the department’s use-of-force policies and training protocols.

“Once there was no longer any resistance — and clearly when Mr. Floyd was no longer responsive and even motionless — to continue to apply that level of force to a person prone down, handcuffed behind their back … that in no way, shape, or form is part of our policy, is not part of our training, and is not part of our ethics and values,” Minneapolis Police Chief Medaria Arradondo told the court.

POSSIBLE SENTENCES

Second-degree murder: GUILTY
Explanation: Causing the death of a person, without intent to cause that death, while committing or attempting to commit a felony offense. (In this case, the felony offense is third-degree assault.)
Sentence: Minnesota sentencing guidelines recommend a 12.5 year prison sentence, but the maximum penalty is up to 40 years.

Third-degree murder: GUILTY
Explanation: Causing the death of a person unintentionally by committing an act eminently dangerous to others and with a reckless disregard for human life.
Sentence: Minnesota sentencing guidelines recommend a 12.5 year prison sentence, but the maximum penalty is up to 25 years.

Second-degree manslaughter: GUILTY
Explanation: Causing the death of a person by culpable negligence, where the defendant created an unreasonable risk and consciously took a chance of causing death or great bodily harm.
Sentence: Minnesota sentencing guidelines recommend a 4 year prison sentence, but the maximum penalty is up to 10 years.

Several medical experts for the prosecution told the jury that Floyd died of low oxygen due to the officers restraining him as he lay handcuffed and prone on the street.

In an enduring moment of the trial, the jurors saw an image of Floyd’s knuckles pressed against the tire of the squad car as a pulmonologist described that Floyd was so desperate for air, he used his fingers and knuckles to try to position himself to breathe while being pinned down by Chauvin.

Over two days, Chauvin’s attorney called seven witnesses, including his own use-of-force expert to support his argument that — contrary to what the videos showed — an “angry” crowd of onlookers became a distracting threat to Chauvin who used “objectively reasonable” force against Floyd. A medical expert for the defense, who admitted to having no evidence, blamed carbon monoxide from the police car for contributing to Floyd’s death.

In closing arguments on Monday, prosecutors defended policing as a “noble profession” but singled out Chauvin as an exception for causing Floyd’s death.

“This wasn’t policing, this was murder,” prosecutor Steve Schleicher told the jury.

Nelson argued that Chauvin acted as a “reasonable” police officer would and suggested it was “preposterous” to disregard Floyd's enlarged heart, his heart disease, and use of drugs as contributing factors to his death.

In his rebuttal, prosecutor Jerry Blackwell told the jury that Floyd, 46, had lived for 17,026 days with all the conditions that Nelson laid out as causing his death. “Except for one day,” he said.

“You’ve been told, for example, that Mr. Floyd died because his heart was too big,” Blackwell said. “The reason George Floyd is dead because Mr. Chauvin’s heart was too small.”

[universitypenguin]

What happened to u? U okay?

Hello!

First off, thank you for your concern. I appreciate it and I needed it after the past two days. To answer your question - I'm doing great.

I don’t have a lot of context about your question, but I’m guessing your concern is due to my recent blocking spree. A day ago, I went through my followers list and found some minors. I’ve previously seen smut fanfic writers concerned by underage people interacting with their posts. Until I had to block a few of them, I wasn’t aware how uncomfortable it would make me feel.

Since the blocking spree, I've had a lot of thoughts. I'm about to spew them everywhere. You might regret asking me if I was okay. Sorry about that. No one needs to read this whole manifesto about my rollercoaster of emotions the past few days. But in the interest of transparency, I'm posting this very long note.

What I want my readers to know is the following:

Tumblr is both a place for fanfiction and a social media site.

When I interact with followers and write explicit content, I have to be careful about what I'm saying and who I'm saying it to.

I don't intend to block or purge my followers in the future.

As long as I appropriately tag and put warnings on my work, that is adequate protection for my blog. Everything I write containing explicit content is tagged.

However, I won't interact with users who don't have an age stated in their bio.

There have to be boundaries, given the content of my writing. But I've also come around to the realization that I'm not capable of policing every interaction. Tumblr is a public forum. Minors following me makes me uncomfortable. But by the same token, my work is clearly labeled at 18+ and so is my blog.

There's a lot of explicit content out there for minors if you really think about it. In my high school freshman English class we talked about the book "The Color Purple." Believe me, that was explicit and we were only 14. Any minor with a library card and a Google browser can access a lot more intense content than what I write. I hope they're all being safe, but I can't have a melt down blocking spree again.

I'm not a cop, I'm not a parent, and what minors consume is down to them and the adult responsible for them. If I know someone is a minor I'll block them, should I notice they're trying to interact with me. Otherwise, I'm not purging my followers ever again. It's too much drama. I'd rather leave Tumblr than do that twice. I'm tired and I'm starting to work on my post graduate classes, I work full time in a demanding job, I'm in the process of editing my novel, and trying to keep up with my personal life. Quite literally, I don't have time to block. Writing fanfic is supposed to be my fun time. Let's keep it that way.

Due to the fact that some people I blocked were later unblocked after I took a closer look at their blogs, I'm posting a full explanation below. A quick summary is this:

After only writing for three months, I'd amassed 500 followers. On Monday I blocked almost 200 of them. Then I reviewed my block list and editing down some people who were prematurely blocked. [I assume the anon is one of the unblocked who had me disappear from their dash. Sorry!] This blocking thing isn't sustainable. In the future I'll run my blog differently as far as interaction goes in an effort to be responsible.

Continue reading for the saga of:

The Great Blocking Spree and Existential Crisis of an Erotic Fanfic Writer.

The Blocking Spree:

On Monday I realized a thirteen year old was following me and interacting with my work. This creeped me out.

*Commence blocking spree*

Then I realized how daunting my followers list was. I had 500 followers prior to Monday. That day I blocked about 200 people (some of them prematurely - more on that later.) So after the daunting task of trying to assume, to check bios for ages, to review blog content and determine the user's age, I was tired. Today, I even took a moment to reconsider if I wanted to use Tumblr. Because if all this is my responsibility, maybe I don't have the time or dedication to manage it. When I can be chill, I try to be. This attitude also affected by blocking. It contributed to me unblocking people. When I was doing the blocking spree, I'd give people with no age in their bio a fair shot by reviewing their posts.

I blocked some bot accounts, then a bunch of blank blogs, some ambiguous people who very well could be of age. For the first 100 followers I was pretty aggressive. Then my attention span dropped off and I was a bit more ambivalent. I realized I was doing a crappy job of moderating and wondered what the point was.

The point was that the thirteen year old interacting with my work freaked me out. When I found two sixteen year old followers, it pushed me to continue the purge.

So on I go, blocking. I'm so responsible for doing this, right? But my methodology is crap. What is context for being an adult? Someone had posted about budgeting advice. I thought the budgeting advice was too good for it not to have come from an adult. But my father's a financial advisor and to be honest, I could have given that level of advice at fifteen just from osmosis. Someone had pictures of themselves entering their marijuana plants in the Oregon State Fair. Okay, you've got to be over 18. I didn't block them. Someone else complained about their stats professor and I didn't block them. But in retrospect, one of my high school friends got permission to take college level math courses when we were seniors. She was seventeen when she had a stats professor. The thought circles back - what am I accomplishing here? Next, I went back and unblocked someone who ranted about her Tinder matches being 60 year old men. I wondered if their post was even real. I've lied on the internet before. Nonetheless, I persisted and worked through all 500 followers. When I was done I had 312 followers left.

Post Blocking Spree Existential Crisis:

I know that all the blocking in the world can't stop a teenager who wants to read smut fanfic. I'm not much for posting on social media and I'm not used to a lot of anonymous interaction online. Honestly, I got rid of my SM accounts during college when I felt it was wasting my time. This is the first time I've really use a social media site to post content since college. My twitter account is unused, my Instagram is for close personal friends only, and my TikTok is for mindless consumption of cat videos. (I've trained the algorithm to feed me only cat videos, it's great and I highly recommend it.) I don't post on TikTok, so I don't consider it full use, just lurking.

Okay, Alice, get back to the point....

Right, being anonymous on social media. My blocks are a fence and it's based on self identification from the blogs that follow me. I have little faith in underage consumers to out themselves. I have even less faith in their honesty or respect for an adult's boundaries. They're at a stage in life where they want to push the boundaries. Telling them no is all but inviting them in. I did my blocking spree because I was worried about backlash from someone's parents. But what reasonable judge would come after a fanfic writer? Come on. Logical thoughts but me emotional distress was still brewing.

Why I am the one responsible for who clicks the follow button on my blog? I've always clearly identified what I write and tagged my work as smut.

That thought snapped me out of my whirlwind of anxious thoughts. So I started looking into the laws. My regular work involves medicine, not the legal profession, so I was lost. I found some state level laws that made me glad I'd gone on a blocking spree. California and Florida have specific language in their laws about 'providing minors with explicit content.' But what exactly is that? What I researched applied to the following activities: co-writing smut fanfic with other people, sexting, roleplaying and online messaging.

I run a fanfic blog with limited interaction. I've never done an ask. I don't roleplay on here and I don't want to.

The blocks weren't personal. They were partly based on the awareness that Tumblr is an interactive site and a place that's had a problem with child pornography in the past. But I'm not the smut police. I suck at blocking, and I doubt I did a good job of purging my followers list. This is when it hit me that boundaries are only what I can enforce. They've never been about how other people relate to me, only how I relate to them. (Wow. I've never sounded more like my mother in my life...) After this thought, I started considering what actions I ought to take if I wanted to keep posting fanfic on Tumblr.

My Post Blocking Spree Clarity...

It's up to me who I interact with. I don't have to reply to every comment and re-blog, but I'd like to. I'm stuck between wanting to write for everyone and handling interactions on a social media site that's mostly anonymous.

The fact remains: I can't be the smut police because I suck at it.

What I've decided is that I'll make it very clear on my blog that this is an 18+ space where I publish erotic fanfiction. Smut will always be appropriately marked. I'm not going to interact with reviews, re-blogs, and messages from accounts who don't have their age in their profile. I won't include them in my tag list either. The internet is a public forum. Just as with publishing erotica, once it's out there online for download, it's done. As a ghost writer and an author, I don't control who buys my original fiction, which is just as spicy as my fanfiction. (Trust me, it's explicit. I once had a romance editor tell me I should dial it back on the smutty parts of a novel because "it's a lot of sex for a non-erotica market.") The key difference on Tumblr is about interaction. And that's something I can control. I can decide when I reply to other users. What brought me around to this was the realization that even after the blocking spree, I can't review every single like I get. That's an amount of time and mental energy that's beyond me. Just the past two days have been exhausting and sapped my will to write. Which sucks because I need to go write the next chapter of "Restitution" before tomorrow.

I think the reasons I went on the blocking spree are nuanced. The thirteen year old freaked me out. So did the other underaged people who had ages in their bios. But it also relates to my work. In my job I've seen some nasty child abuse cases. Early on in my career, when I was a 23 year old new hire, I was working on an autopsy for a child abuse victim who'd been murdered by their parent. It was so terrible and graphic, I had to ask one of my older colleagues to take the case. This colleague didn't like me. But she took one look at my face and took the file. She closed out the review without a question and never brought it up again to anyone. I was very grateful. Where I used to work (and where this incident took place) was a major city that holds the unfortunate title of being the human trafficking capital of the US. And something I learned working there was that most human trafficking victims go with their captors willingly. In two years at that job, I never saw one who'd been kidnapped from a dark alley like you see on TV. They were all groomed on social media and thought they were escaping their families (who were often overbearing, toxic, or dysfunctional) for a get away with friends. It was a fun adventure with their internet buddies, until it wasn't.

In retrospect, the underage interaction I found on my blog made me react because of what I've been through. The autopsy case kept coming back to me today while I was at work and I've finally untangled my emotions enough to figure out what caused my melt down. When I was blocking, I was feeling an anxious motivation that I know can only stem from the stress I deal with at my job. Don't feel sorry for me about this - I know my work in medicine helps a lot of people and it's a tremendously satisfying career.

Our Saga's Resolution & How I'm Going to Deal With This In The Future...

- - - - -

In post block clarity, I offer this conclusion:

I'm writing on a public forum. My work is appropriately tagged as smut. In the future, I will also use the tag #no minors to help with filtering. I've always asked underage people not to interact. And on a public forum, what more can I reasonably do? Going forward I will only interact with those who have their age posted in their bio. But blocking sprees and policing every interaction isn't feasible.

I'll review how I'm going to run my tag lists as well. I need to think it over and let my followers know my decision as to if I'll continue using them. Because tagging is definitely interaction and my current tag list was not screened at all. *face palm*

Finally, to my readers who have blank blogs or don't have an age listed. I respect your right to privacy and I'm careful with my personal information as well. But I've also had an uncomfortable two days. If you've lasted through this venting session until now, you must understand that I'm upset by underage interaction. I'm setting my own boundaries and going forward, I'll own my side of the internet. No interaction from me, unless I know your age. Full stop - no exceptions. I think it is reasonable for me to suggest that you leave something on your blog that signifies you are not a minor, whatever that may be. Someone who I didn't block that stands out in my memory had a bio that said "90s baby." It was simple, direct, and left no doubt they were over 18. No age reveal and not even a name. If you put something like this on your blog it'll help explicit content creators feel more comfortable about their interactions.

I went on a spree this Monday and I admit to being heavy handed and aggressive about pruning followers. I had an emotional reaction due to work stress and I didn't think things through logically. I'm relieved for the chance explain myself and set new boundaries that I'm capable of sticking to in the future. But remember - the block button is on my side of the screen. At the end of the day, you might be unhappy with me for the block, but it's my button, it's my blog, and I'll use it as I see fit.

Thank you for reading.

[spnfanficpond]

Pond Diving - Supernatural-Jackles

Welcome to today’s Pond Diving Spotlight! We hope that you enjoy this little insight to our members and perhaps even find some useful tips for your own writing. Happy reading!

Want to volunteer, send us an ask! We’re looking forward to learning more about all of you! Not sure what PD is, you can learn more here.

“Don’t Be Koi About It” - All About You

Name: Jen

Age: 24

Location: Ontario, Canada

URL: @supernatural-jackles​ 

Why did you choose your URL:  I wanted a Supernatural theme for my blog when I started watching it and Jensen Ackles just happens to be my favourite on there so it became that.

What inspired you to become a writer: I’ve always enjoyed stories. I’ve loved the aspect of taking your mind to a whole other world and living in it. As I grew up and continued reading, my love for stories became stronger and stronger. I fell in love with characters and places. I wanted to always have a way to go back to those places and take other people to those places. I wanted to create stories for others to fall in love with the way I fell in love with them.

How long have you been writing:  I have been writing since I was 8 or 9.

What do you do when you are not writing i.e. Job/Hobbies etc?  Right now, my Nintendo switch is a good friend of mine. Due to the virus, I spend a lot of my time inside when I’m not at work. I’m either writing, working, sleeping or playing switch.

How long have you been in the SPN Fandom?  Since 2012

Are you in any other fandoms and do you write for them? I am in the Harry Potter fandom, and Marvel. I don’t write for them though. I don’t feel the same way about the characters as I do with the SPN Fandom. 

Do you do any writing outside of fanfiction? If so, tell us about it? I have been working on my novel for the last two years on and off. I just find a lot more joy in writing Supernatural fanfiction at the moment, so my soul focus has stayed on that. 

Favorite published author:  Margaret Atwood or John Green

Have you ever read a book that made an impact on your life? Which one and why?:  There was this one book I read. I was about 18 at the time I believe. All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. A very triggering book, just so you know. I remember sitting there reading it and wondering why I’m putting myself through something so draining and daunting. The book was very upsetting and I found it didn’t tackle the issues at hand in a very tasteful and realistic way. As someone who writes fanfiction about mental health, it influenced me to be open and honest about the way reality is, but in a way that would shine more positively towards mental health struggles. I never wanted to be that person who ruined every mental health book for someone else like that author did for me. It was a negative impact, but I think it had some positive results.

Favorite genre of fanfic (smut, angst, fluff, crack, rpf, etc):  I enjoy all genres to be honest. It really all depends on the mood I’m in that day. It’s fun to switch it up every once in a while and enjoy the mixed emotions you get when you read or write said genre.

Favorite piece of your own writing: One and One Make Three or Just Want to Be Loved.

Most underrated fic you have written:  I might have to say More Than a Fling. It was the sequel to Summer Fling and everyone was interested in a second series. It soon went on permanent hiatus due to lack of interest.

Story of yours that you’d most like to see turned into a movie/tv show:  Owe You One

Favorite Tumblr Writer(s):   @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @kaz-2y5imagines​,  @jawritter​ @mariekoukie6661​, @torn-and-frayed​

Favorite fic from another writer:  Breathe by @luci-in-trenchcoats​

Favorite character to write: Dean/Jensen

Favorite Pairing to write:  Undecided. I love reader inserts and I haven’t done many pairings other than that. I have toyed with Jensen/Reader/Danneel before and I enjoy writing them.

Least favorite character to write (and why):  Castiel. We only see so much of Cas and there aren’t as many complex layers of him so he’s harder for me to explore.

Do you have anyone you consider a mentor?  @luci-in-trenchcoats

Do you have any aspirations involving your writing?   Finish everything I start, and be proud of every piece I create.

How many work-in-progress stories do you have:  Ummm probably upwards to the mid 60’s I want to say.

What are you currently working on?  I am in the very early stages of writing a Jensen x Reader Bodyguard AU series. Twisty and turny and very different from what I usually write, but still very me.

“Pond Diving” - All About The Writing

What/who has had the biggest influence on your writing?  I have the biggest influence on my writing for the most part. I always stick with what I want to write and what I’d love to read. That’s what gets me started on most pieces. My dear best friend who shall remain anonymous, has an influence on me as well. She mostly inspires me to write what I want to write and reminds me on a constant basis that I am doing good and to keep going with my ideas.

Best writing advice you've been given:  Don’t be afraid to get a little out of your comfort zone.

Biggest obstacle you’ve faced in your writing:  Time management mostly. Deadlines are not my best friend, that’s for sure. I am often filled with a lot of self-doubt when it comes to getting things done on time. Then I wonder if it’s good enough for publishing or if I should wait.

What aspects of writing do you find difficult when you write fanfiction? The research process for certain fics can be daunting. Especially if you don’t know where you need to start looking. Then fact checking, and making sure it works in the story. I have to remind myself that it will be worth it in the end. 

Is there anything you want to write but are afraid to (and why):  I am pretty open with writing most of the things I want to. Getting out of my comfort zone is something I regularly do. It’s always fun to challenge yourself into writing something you’d never think of doing. I certainly have enjoyed the things I was scared to try and it was worth it in the end.

What inspires/motivates you to write:  Any selfie/picture posted by Jensen. My best friend and the lovely people around me. @luci-in-trenchcoats is a big influence on me and she always keeps me going!

How do you deal with self doubt:  I constantly have to remind myself to get out of that headspace unless I am writing about being in that headspace. It’s a hard cycle to break. Reminding myself that what I am doing is making me happy. I’m making the rules. I’m writing this for me. I have to please myself first and that’s what matters the most. I know myself and the way I write, and that is enough. That’s what I keep on repeat in my head.

How do you deal with writer's block: Cry profusely? I’m kidding. Writer’s block for me, usually comes from something I don’t like that I have written. If it’s minor, I go back to the point where I was happy with where the story was going and delete everything after that. Give it a fresh new start and prospective. If the block is more severe, I take a break. Watch a movie and don’t stress myself about it. I get ideas anywhere, and it will come back eventually. Sometimes it’s just your brain's way of saying “hey, you need to take a break. Do that.”

Do you plan/outline your story before you start: Generally yes. I like to know where my story is going. Most of the time my outlines are more extensive rough drafts. It’s a way of processing my thoughts and writing them down so I don’t forget later. It’s a lot more fun for me to build on stories.

Do you have any weird writing habits:  I either have to sit in a silent room, or I have to listen to music. Lately it’s been more silent. It depends on the subject.

Have you ever received hateful comments on your fic and how do you deal with it?  I’ve received my share of hateful comments. Each one sucks, I’m not going to lie. Knowing that there is someone out there that hates the way you wrote something so much that they had to tell you isn’t nice. It kind of comes back to the self doubt thing. You have to remind yourself that this is one person’s not so kind opinion. You are the writer, you are in control of this story. This is you and you’re proud of this.

Conversely: what’s been some of your favorite feedback on your fanfic?  Any feedback is my favourite feedback. Every heart, every “I love this”. Every “You’re my favourite.” I can’t pick a favourite. If someone can take the time out to say they’ve loved something I have written and that it meant a lot to them, then that's the best reward I can get.

If you could give one piece of advice to a new and/or struggling writer, what would it be?  Keep writing everyday! You don’t see it now but the more you write, the better you get.

[carriagelamp]

I read more books this month than I anticipated. I should probably wait before doing a February book round up, but I already feel like I’m struggling to decide which ones to cut from my list so I’m doing it this weekend instead of next. If I read much next week I’ll bump ‘em up into March’s round up

Asterix and the Missing Scroll / Chieftain’s Daughter

I got the last two “new” Asterix books out of the library so I could officially say I had read them all. Over all my opinion is… they’re fine! None of these would ever become one of my favourites, but they’re all fine stories. The art is good, it is completely in-line with the original, and the stories are… fine. I liked The Missing Scroll quite a bit more than The Chieftain’s Daughter but I never find a ~hurr hurr teenagers~ plotline that interesting, whereas I do enjoy seeing Romans get chased down by unicorns so that’s probably not surprising. There’s some spark I can’t put my finger on that the new Asterix books just seem to be missing though… a bit of humour or cleverness or something. Still, they’re fine reads if you’ve been hungry for more Asterix and I’m glad I read them. (Though the library gave me the American translation of The Chieftain’s Daughter, something I didn’t realize until I started reading and realized that this is wrong??? I’ve been reading these books since I could read and I know this is wrong??? What the hell is happening??? The I realized the publisher was different and I simmered in fury the whole time I read it — WHY ARE YOU CHANGING NAMES AND WORD CHOICES IN A WELL ESTABLISHED SERIES THAT ALREADY HAS AN ENGLISH TRANSLATION YOU ANIMALS WHY ARE YOU DUMBING DOWN THE LANGUAGE AAAUGH

The Bride Was A Boy

This one was cute! The Bride Was A Boy is an autobiographical manga written by a transwoman recounting her experience with transitioning, meeting her boyfriend, and eventually getting married. It’s mostly done in a 4-panel style and is interspersed with lots of information about the LGBT community, particularly in Japan. A lot of it was stuff I was already familiar with, but I still found it adorable and a very worthwhile read. it would be a fantastic book for young queer people who are looking for more of an introduction into international queer space

Cul de Sac: Children At Play

Cul de Sac is just a weird, fun newspaper comic series about the children who live in a small neighbourhood. It fully taps into the children-as-semi-feral-chaos-agents, and there’s something hilariously nostalgic about the whole thing. Lots of times when stories try to portray children there’s always something… wrong about it, something that doesn’t mesh with true childhood, but in this comic I can see glimpses of my grimy, dirty-covered self as a preschooler running around the pages. I would definitely recommend trying them!

The Cremation of Sam McGee

I reread The Cremation of Sam McGee and The Shooting of Dan McGrew and man, they don’t stop being buckwild. These are two really famous Canadian poems that were then illustrated by equally famous Canadian artist Ted Harrison. Harrison’s style is gorgeous and distinct and given what strangely grisly stories these poems are they fit the mood perfectly. Everything feels just a little tilted and wrong and unsettling. If you enjoy an occasional poem (especially ones that are super fun to read out loud) and haven’t read these before, I would recommend them! Or do what my teachers did, and read Sam Gee to a young child in your life and watch them be baffled and concerned and horrified.

There are strange things done / in the midnight sun / by the men who moil for gold...

The Gryphon’s Lair

The second book of the Royal Guide to Monster Slaying series written by Kelley Armstrong; I’ve been eagerly awaiting this book! It’s a very cool fantasy series because it really leans into environmental stewardship and the importance of studying animals and conservation so you can find ways to live alongside a healthy ecosystem. In this book Rowan is officially accepted as the Royal Monster Hunter, which means a whole new set of trials and burdens. She has to contend with a baby gryphon that is becoming increasingly large and dangerous, plotting family members, doubt about her abilities, a potential curse, and a daunting quest deep into the mountains in order to set things right. If you’re looking for some very gentle high fantasy, this series delivers.

Hogan’s Heroes comics

What to say here. Anyone following this blog has suffered the knowledge that I’ve been rewatching Hogan’s Heroes lately. When I found out that there was a short-lived, shitty comic series in the 60s? Of course I had to hunt them down. And so I’ve read them! And they sure were a shitty comic series from the 60s! They were, shall we say, of wildly varying quality. Some were actually really funny (like #5, it easily had the best art and best jokes imho), others were a slog, and most were fine and amusing enough to read the whole way through but not much more.

If you don’t know what Hogan’s Heroes is about: it was a 1960s sitcom that took place in a WWII POW camp, in which the Allied prisoners trapped there had a massive, complex sabotage/spy ring right underneath the camp. The whole show is about constantly outwitting the bumbling Germans while keeping up the pretense that they’re all just normal prisoners. The show is hilariously funny and I would recommend that, even if I can’t say the same for the comics unless you’re like me and are just really thirsty for more content...

Magic Misfits: The Fourth Suit (Ripley)

The final book of Neil Patrick Harris’ middle grade series, The Magic Misfits. In this fourth book, the group is fragmented and forced to meet in secret to avoid notice from the mysterious and powerful Kalagan whose cruel machinations have already turned the quiet little town on its ears, putting people’s lives in peril and destroy Leila’s fathers’ magic shop. The Misfits are going to need all their skills to finally unmask this sinister magician and break the mesmerism he seems to have placed over the entire town before it’s too late to save no only the town, but their friendship and trust.

Super charming series, and the illustrations are gorgeous.

Marsupilami

HOUBA! I watched a very bad TV adaptation of this as a kid that still managed to find a place in my heart, and so I decided to finally try reading some of the original comic! On one hand: it was exactly what I had hoped! The art is cute, the marsupilami is so dynamic and fun to see on the page (and has a way better characterization than he does in the show), and it’s really funny! Unfortunately! It is also pretty racist! Yikes! That seems to be a reoccuring downfall for some of these older Belgian comics... I also tried reading the first book of Les Tuniques Bleues and aye ye ye… I couldn’t actually get through that one. That being said, these were older volumes and frankly, North American media was also real fucking racist at that point so I’m not gonna write them off either. I really liked most of this book, and will probably try to get my hands on one of the more recent volumes of both Marsupilami and Les Tuniques Bleues to see if they get better with time. (If you’ve read either of those series and have volume recommendations hmu)

The Pagemaster

I’m a sucker for novelizations, I have no excuse beyond that. I recently rewatched The Pagemaster and decided to read the chapter book. And it was a solid little adaptation! It’s about Richard Tyler, a young boy with a head for statistics which unfortunately means he lives in constant fear of (in his opinion, statistically likely) injury or death. However that fear is put to the test when he gets caught in a horrible thunderstorm and has to shelter in a nearby library with halls and shelves that stretch beyond the imagination and with untold perils hidden among the pages of the books. Richard, with only his library card and three novels that hope to be checked out, has to venture through the different genres and horrors housed int he library if he ever wants to find the exit and get home to safety.

Pumpkinheads

A very charming little graphic novel. Cute art, and really loveable characters. Josiah and Deja work every year at a local pumpkin patch, and are best friends during those weeks. However this is their last year working there before going off to university and as the last day at the patch comes to a close they realize that they both still have regrets. Deja sets off on a mission to avoid work, eat all the interesting snacks around the patch, and get Josiah to find the girl he’s been crushing on every year and has never worked up the nerve to talk to.

After being deprived of human contact for almost a year, this book really hits you right in the heart.

The Screwfly Solution

A deeply upsetting scifi/horror short story! I read it on the recommendation of a friend and, yes, can confirm that this fucked me up a bit. I honestly don’t even know what to say about this that wouldn’t spoil it, but frankly with everything being as it is, this hit a little bit too close to reality. (That being said, it was very well written, like this is a very good story on a literary level and it does exactly what it sets out to accomplish.) If you feel like reading twenty pages and being really disturbed, give it a go! Otherwise go and read any number of the much happier books on this list!

The Whipping Boy

This was a book I remember reading as a lit circle book back in elementary school and really loving. After telling myself I’d reread it for years, I finally sat down with it again. If you somehow got through school without reading this one, it’s about a brat of a prince and his whipping boy — since it would be unspeakable to strike a prince, when the prince misbehaves it is Jemmy who gets whipped. Unsurprisingly, there is no love lost between the two of them, because the prince is always intentionally causing problems that Jemmy has to suffer for. Things begin to change though when the prince decides to run away and drags Jemmy along with him. On the run, being chased by highwaymen, and desperately trying to hide their identities, these boys go on a fast-paced adventure beyond the castle walls. It wasn’t as special as I remembered it being as a kid, but it’s a fine little chapter book.

[knivestothroats]

Im from a conservative racist area so not many people to ask but i was born female and ive always felt like i was male dressed more boyish thought of as a boy and always thought i was trans. But im too scared to come out . And i was scared that its not what i want . Like i like some of the female aspects and male aspects if that makes sense . Im sorry if i sounded mean not sure how to word.

Okay, so. Ultimately I can’t tell you your identity, but I can tell you my takeaway based on my own experience with gender. 

If you feel male, feel comfortable dressing boyishly, and think of yourself as trans, then you probably are trans. I know that it’s a scary jump to make, but those are pretty much all indicators of being trans. There’s no prerequisite to being trans besides feeling like a gender that you weren’t assigned at birth. And that sounds like it’s the case for you.

For myself, I knew I at least wasn’t totally female for like 8 or 9 years before I really came to terms and was ready to deal with it. And part of my hesitancy was that I didn’t want to abandon womanhood, even though I, personally, rarely associated with anything feminine. But still, occasionally I would wear a dress or make up for a special event. I have tattoos of flowers. I grew my hair out for a few years. Most of my friends are girls. I’m a feminist. 

But most of the time I shopped in the men’s section for flannels and jackets and hoodies and hats that I could hide my shape under. I shaved my head every couple years and didn’t wear makeup except for holidays and concerts. It was always kind of fun when I would get “mistaken” for a guy. 

The conclusion I eventually came to for myself, was that I’m masculine-leaning genderqueer, and if a cis stranger is going to look at me and think “is that a boy or a girl” and then pick one, I would rather they pick “boy.” Gender is a spectrum, not a box you can check or a switch you can flip or even a scale you can slide on. Some people do feel completely male or comepletely female. Some people change from day to day. Some people feel like a mix of both. Some people feel like neither. Some people cherry pick from both but ultimately don’t completely identify with either. Some people are sort of floating off in space in a nebula cis folk can’t even conceptualize. It really isn’t necessary to hammer out the finer points if you don’t want to, or if you can’t.

There’s a quote I think about a lot from Naomi Alderman that goes, “Gender is a shell game. What is a man? Whatever a woman isn’t. What is a woman? Whatever a man is not. Tap on it and it’s hollow. Look under the shells: it’s not there.”

So, maybe you are a man. You don’t have to abandon all aspects of femininity. There are cis men with long hair, or who wear make up, or skirts, or like the color pink, or flowers, or paint their nails, or any number of other things that are considered feminine. Every human is an individual first. 

I don’t know your situation, so I can’t comfortably speak to whether or not it’s safe for you to come out. But if you need - or want - to wait, it’s okay. It’s not weakness to prioritize your safety, or even comfort. There is no expiration date to transitioning. There are people who transition in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and so on. Like I said, it took me 9 years before I was ready to deal with it. 

I guess my advice for now would maybe be to find an online community where you can explore your gender if you can’t do it irl. Even if you want to start a whole new blog where you go by a different name and pronouns, just to try living as that person and see how it feels. 

There’s no rush to figure it out, and you don’t have to feel pressured to conform to the standards for binary genders set by cis people. If you’ll excuse the wordplay, you can transcend the barriers. 

And now a message from another trans friend whomst I asked to proof read this: “Most importantly though - congratulations! Thinking about coming out and transitioning (however you might want to) can feel impossibly daunting, but it isn’t for naught. It’s a journey of understanding, accepting, and embracing your truest self. There is a joy unlike any other in becoming and living as your real self, and meeting others in the community who share your journey too. Transitioning, being trans, isn’t an act of hating yourself - it is the greatest act of self love you can ever undertake. In this day and age, you have access to more resources online and through public communities than the world has ever had before! Being trans is a wonderful thing. You are not alone no matter where in the world you are. There is no rush, and certainly we all face our own difficulties with it - but there are a million rewards you’ll find along the way.”

[jericgutierrez]

Hello World!

Hello all! My name is Jeric Gutierrez and I am broke. I am also a college student. I am also also have a part time job, so life is kind of hectic right now. Between balancing essays and greeting customers, I often find it hard to find time to budget for personal care activities such as laundry, cleaning, and of course cooking. However, with this food blog, I can show you that not only can you find the time to cook and cook on a budget, but you can also cook more than just your simple pancakes and bacon.

Recently, I had just moved out of my parents’ home, so adjusting to the adult life is daunting, and while I did cook meals every now and then when I was living with my parents, it feels like a completely different beast having to rely on yourself for sustenance. The beauty of this food blog is not only to discover cheap, quick, and tasty meals but also to act as my first foray into adulting. Throughout this food blog, you will see the beginnings of me growing up, and there may be some missteps along the road. Whether that be burned recipes or missed steps in said recipes, we will all learn together.

I am also interested in diving into the backgrounds of these dishes. Being Filipino, I am really interested in Filipino dishes, and I take this blog as an opportunity to not only cook Filipino dishes but to also learn some history behind my culture. And of course, these recipes will not be exclusive to Filipino dishes, so this will not only be an excursion into my culture but into a wide array of various cultures.

I hope you enjoy my food blog. This should be a fun and educational experience for both of us!

*Edit

It comes to mind that I should leave some general tips in this introduction, so...

General tips!

You are going to see a lot of recipes that I serve over rice. One thing I always recommend if you are going to be cooking rice even once a month is to invest in a rice cooker! Get outta here with that stovetop rice stuff! It’s so easy with a rice cooker. Just pour rice into your rice pot, wash your rice, fill the pot with water on a 1:1 rice to water ratio (i.e. 1 cup of water = 1 cup of rice), and place in the rice cooker to cook. Easy! And for those who think it would be too expensive for you since you don’t eat rice that often, I bought my rice cooker from Target for $20. Even if you only eat rice once a month, it is WORTH IT!

Speaking about rice: WASH YOUR RICE! It removes the starch from the rice. It’s the same reason you wash potatoes before making french fries. It just tastes better!

Costco Tips!

I have actually worked membership at Costco, and throughout this blog I will constantly recommend buying from Costco, so here’s a breakdown of the different memberships Costco offers and which one would be right for you

Gold Star Membership

Costco’s Basic membership

$60/year

Enough to get you in and out of the store

Executive Membership

$120/year

Receive 2% rebate check at the end of your term. The check is based on how much you spend in store and online. This 2% reward also includes vacations booked through Costco Travel!

Various discounts on services offered through Costco  

So I get constantly get asked which is the better membership to get, and I always answer it depends. For starters, the baseline spending you want to be doing as an Executive member is about $250/month or $3000/year. That would be enough for a $60 check, essentially breaking even with the gold star. If you’re spending more than that, UPGRADE TO THE EXECUTIVE as you will be getting a cheaper membership in the long run. Also, this next policy varies from store to store, so it would be wise to ask the membership clerk whether or not they will honor it. At both my previous and current stores, we have a policy set in place where if your rebate check is less than what you paid for in upgrade fees, Costco will reimburse you on the money you lost. So say you pay the extra $60 to upgrade from a gold star account but you only received a $50 check. Take that check to the membership desk and they will reimburse you $10. From there you are more than free to downgrade for your next term. If your warehouse does honor this policy, I always recommend first time members sign up for Executive since it’s impossible to lose money on this venture. If your check is less than $60, we reimburse you. If it’s more, then you pay less for your membership. 

Oftentimes members want to try out the Gold Star membership first to see how their spending habits track before upgrading, and I always recommend against this. You don’t know how many times I’ve checked an account only to see that if they had been Executive members in the first place, they would have already had a check worth $90. So to reiterate, if your warehouse has the reimbursement policy mentioned above, START OUT AT EXECUTIVE! You won’t lose out on potential rewards that way and we’ll reimburse you if your check does not cover the upgrade fee.

In my experience, families of 4 or more typically benefit from the Executive membership. Also consider any large purchases you are planning on making in the near future. If you are buying a TV, for instance, it’s always worth considering upgrading before said purchase.

Some other things to note about the memberships, you aren’t locked in to one membership once you sign up. You are always free to upgrade or downgrade anywhere within your term. Also the Costco Anywhere Visa Card is a great additional card to sign up for if you are good with credit cards. You get 4% on gas at any gas stations that accept Visa Credit Cards, an extra 2% on Costco purchases, 3% on travel booked through Costco Travel and on restaurants, and 1% on everything else. For the gas alone, I recommend this to most people because that gets me at least $3 a month just from using the card. That may not sound like a lot until you realize that that's over half of a Goldstar membership at the end of the year. All from paying for gas. Plus you get an extended warranty (an extra 2 years on top of whatever warranty is offered) on your Costco purchases. There also aren't any annual fees with this card.

So to recap, if you spend over $250 a month, invest in the Executive. If you are good with credit cards, get the visa card. Ask if your warehouse honors that reimbursement policy. If they do, get the Executive. Your wallet will thank you.