#my draft was SO messy and now it's. mostly servicable???

[queenerdloser]

literally hyperfocused so much i spent about seven hours getting a semi-polished draft of my statement of purpose completed. jesus christ??? weeks of farting around with it and one day of actual work that got it to a state that's shareable and like 85% completed... yes that IS so typical of my work habits lmao.

[emcandon]

I return from my bg3 stupor with a fresh 2 am question:

was the TAU story and world a concept you were baking for a long time until you had a chance to write it, or was it a more recent creation?

Do you find it easy or hard to build out new story concepts? Like, do you need to sit on them a while until they feel right, or does it just come pouring out of you from the start? Or a secret, third thing?

Just anything about your personal creation process!

lol hi it might not surprise you to learn that i am also steeping in bg3 (i am still stumbling around act 1! i'm not allowed to play until i hit daily sequel writing quota, which is healthy, i'm sure, but does mean i am somewhat behind just about everyone i know who is also playing :P)

(my first Tav is an enormous nb tiefling bard named Faretheewell who is, imo, perfect. very beautiful. very kind. definitely does drag. lying a lot, but mostly just for funsies. has turned astarion into their little purse dog.)

ANYWAY, TO THE ACTUAL QUESTION:

TAU's an interesting case because it was cannibalized from a couple different ongoing projects into something entirely new.

The characters had been floating around in different iterations since about 2013, and their final forms in Archive are quite distinct from the original seed! Imagine Sunai as an exiled diplomat who got involuntarily apprenticed to a cursed king/the last magician in the world; imagine Veyadi as a disowned god-child tasked with murdering the last magician! I'm still probably going to use that world somewhere so I'll mum about it now (it's the one I call "grandma heist.")

((imo that's why you should always yoink characters you like from whatever source you enjoy, be it your own or something else -- they will inevitably change in their new context, often so substantially that they are nigh unrecognizable.))

The story concept also originated in 2013: "Pacific Rim, but the mechs are built out of the kaiju, and pilots must have survived being poisoned by those kaiju." The addition of strange and upsetting AIs of divine power was somewhat inherited from the story Sunai and Adi came from, where divinity was fraught, fractured, and hungry.

Here's a funny. In 2017 I thought TAU would be a nice, simple, clean project. However. I know some folks who turn out gloriously clean first drafts. I AM NOT ONE OF THEM. My brain is a hazardous work environment, very non-OSHA compliant. Basically I do a lot of thought work in the drafting, so the drafts are consequently messy, and there are a LOT of changes from concept to actual workable manuscript.

Which I suppose is to say that story concepts nest in my brain quite often when it is healthy. The frequency with which I land on new and interesting story thoughts is actually a pretty good indicator of how well I am doing ambiently! Right now I'm storing up a lot of them, some of which I am fairly rabid about -- nearly as rabid as I am about Archive, which is the real indicator of a project that is ready to transition from Thought to Work. They are described here as "apocalypse magicians" and other such things. There's one that's going to be kind of an argument with Lovecraftian unknowability via desconstruction of Enlightenment epistemologies + queer identity destruction, and another that's going to be the Le Carré approach to espionage + magic as divinity meets public service + interplanetary empires intruding on your bumfuck planet offering the solution to climate change might still be bad actually. (I want to write that last with my wife and we are making SUCH GOOD FUCKING SHIPS FOR IT.)

How to summarize this? 1) find a story notion/concept about which i can obsess, 2) actually start writing it, 3) mess up spectacularly for a few drafts, 4) finally whittle together something more or less correct, 5) that's my editor's problem now!!

[mcalhenwrites]

I didn't expect to struggle so much with these Geckos side stories. Two of them have been finished for years - I wrote them not long after the first draft of Geckos - but I'm struggling with the ones focused on Kieran. One of them is "Late Returns" - I need to finish it. But doing that has been tricky for some reason. This happened with Xavier stories too, but it's hard for me to always keep up with the same humor of a story for long? And that one has a lot of humor. The other Kieran story is when he's an adult. I may just have to shorten it. The Rosalia one is kind of messy, but I'm not too worried about it. That said, I was supposed to finish all the drafts by the time June ended, and I didn't. Even though I can bring my laptop to work and write when there aren't any tasks/clients in. (I may have read four chapters of Reverie and gone back to the grooming area to pet the dogs Sunday instead of writing much on my laptop, which needs replaced badly after seven years of loyal service. I'm gonna cry when I retire this one.) I've also been sick since Monday, which... apparently, my boss has the same thing as I do. (Not covid or strep, but the doctor said that it's some kind of viral infection that turned into tonsilitis, and uh, now I think it's a sinus infection.) So I haven't been writing much. Just editing Seasons and posting that, which does require some writing, but... yeah. Not much on Geckos. And I need to publish this sometime in August, so I think I'm gonna work on some of that later today. First I wanna do some reading, since I haven't been reading lately. I got two books for my birthday that I haven't even touched, and I finally picked up Reverie after snagging it on sale on kindle for $2 a while back. I also promised to write my roommate a fic for their birthday, and I do want to tackle those prompts in my inbox. (Though I'm mostly saving those for weekends when I'm writing at work, though I've basically worked on them whenever I please lol) So much to do. I better haul ass, esp with needing a new writing laptop and saving for the car (and all that comes with that).

[cinna-wanroll]

*Is not writing the Obitine novel since apparently Disney cant fit it into their schedule*

That was a lie, in case you hadn’t already guessed lol. Anywho, here’s an excerpt from the first chapter since I’ve been a bit slow on uploading any original content. Keep in mind that this is a first draft, so I’ll probably end up editing it later

“Hey, buddy,” Vos clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically. 

“Hello, Quin,” Obi-Wan offered the Kiffar a good-natured smile and continued his walk. 

“Off to the races again already, I hear,” Quinlan continued, following his friend. 

Obi-Wan cocked a suspicious brow, “Yes,” he kept his tone mild, almost adding ‘unfortunately’ to the end of his sentence, “who told you?”

Quin shrugged and turned, beginning to walk backwards casually, “Oh, you know, my usual informants. Word travels fast around these parts, especially if you’ve got connections.”

Obi-Wan grinned disbelievingly, “Mm.”

“So,” his friend gave him a little nudge as he pivoted back around, “who’s this lady you’re off to rescue, hmm?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan hated to admit it,, but Quinlan was actually quite charming, so he let the insinuation slide. 

“The duchess of Mandalore.”

Vos’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief, “The duchess?” Quin repeated in shock, “Damn, Obi-Wan. Aren’t people like her, like, hardcore Jedi haters or somethin’?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “Not anymore, since the treaty of Kal’desh almost 82 years ago,” he cast a pointed gaze at the Kiffar who he’d obviously lost at the word ‘treaty’, “You’d know this if you’d paid any attention in Galactic History. 

Quinlan grinned, “Hey, I passed that class.”

“Only because you bribed Bant with Gumbah pudding for a month and a half.”

“Whatever, man.”

Obi-Wan smiled adding, “Not to mention, she’s supposedly the leader of some pacifist group there. The New Mandalorians.”

Quinlan wrinkled his nose, “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me. Nothing ever got done by pacifist legions in the past- at least not anything that lasted longer than a couple of years. This galaxy needs structure, not some peaceful delusionists. Besides, how peaceful can a Mandalorian organization be?”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and looked down, forced to admit he’d thought the same things. How peaceful was a group that’d managed to stay alive among even the harshest of cultural climates? Obi-Wan was guessing not very peaceful at all. 

“I’m not sure, but Master Windu said that this mission is of utmost importance.”

Quinlan sniffed, “Yeah, to his paycheck, probably.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Quinlan, you know Jedi don’t get paid.”

“Most Jedi. I’m just saying, those council members always seem to be a little concerned with issues outside the Republic, than with issues at home.”

Obi-Wan grimaced- he and Vos had never agreed on that particular subject, “We are defenders of the galaxy, Quin.”

His friend shrugged again, changing his tone immediately and smiling, “Yeah, well, just don’t fall too in love with her, mmkay? She might chop that pretty little head of yours off for peace”

“Isn’t that technically what we do sometimes?” Obi-Wan made a pained expression, despite the fact that he was willing to admit it. There was just something about it that made him feel guilty. 

“Yeah, but at least we’re upfront about it.”

“And who’s to say they’re not?”

“Fair enough.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

Although unlikely friends at first glance, Obi-Wan and Quinlan actually got along quite well. They were both calculated, witty, mischievous, and sarcastic fighters with a knack for getting themselves in trouble. 

 Except while Quinlan owned up to causing his antics, Obi-Wan was always the unfortunate person who could be convinced to join in for a cause when things were already taking a turn for the worst. 

They stepped up to the entrance of the mess hall, which was bustling with masters and padawans alike cramming generous heapfuls of muja muffins and mist-pudding onto their trays. 

“Mm-mm,” Quin rubbed his hands together, “I am starving!”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but nod eagerly in agreement, eyeing the tantalizing food as a group of creche students passed them. 

He wasn’t surprised to spot Qui-Gon at the very front of the extensive line, on time for the food, of course. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, boys.”

Obi-Wan turned around towards the direction of the voice, lighting up.

A familiar emerald face greeted him, serene and kind. 

Quin turned his head to her as well, “Mornin’ Luminara.”

Obi-Wan bowed and nodded towards the food line. 

“Can you believe this?”

Luminara smiled faintly and sniffed, peering in, “On buffet day? Certainly.”

“Aka the only day they serve real food in this Force-forsaken place,” Vos chimed in.

Obi-Wan and Luminara shared a look, but inside Obi-Wan couldn’t help but agree.

The Temple was many things, but it definitely wasn’t a diner. 

“What do you think our chances are of paying off some people at the front for their spots?” The Kiffar queried, gazing back at Obi-Wan and Luminara for suggestions. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sarcasm that snuck into his tone, “and with what credits do you intend to do that?” 

“Dunno. I was thinking more… services,” Quin countered.

 Just as Obi-Wan was about to ask what services Vos was implying, Luminara interjected, “At this point, I doubt we’d even get close enough to the masters at the front of the line without being taken away.” 

Obi-Wan nodded as he followed her gaze to where a group of large, burly-looking masters stood glaring at the passerby. It looked like they hadn’t gotten their caff yet that morning. He gulped.

“Luminara’s right, Quin, we should forget it and wait until the line dies down.”

His friend glanced over at him, “Don’t you have to leave by then?”

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as Luminara frowned.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He nodded, glaring daggers at Vos and refsing to look at Luminara. 

“Yes, I was just notified about it this morning. Had I known sooner, I would’ve told you.”

“And yet Quin knows,” she quipped, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms indignantly.

“I’m tellin’ you people, I’ve got connections,” Vos emphasized, leaning against the entrance wall. 

Ignoring the Kiffar, Luminara began, “They’re over-working you again.”

Obi-Wan threw Quinlan an accusatory look that was responded to with a simple ‘here we go again’ eyeroll.

“It’s not fair to you, or to the other padawans who want mission opportunities. They want and deserve experience too! I cannot understand why the council is doing this. My suggestion would be-” she was cut off by an approaching figure, which turned out to be her master. 

Obi-Wan winced.

“Padawan Unduli, do you really think your time is best spent here, dawdling with these hooligans?”

Obi-Wan disregarded the snide comment, instead trying to throw an apologetic gaze at his friend. Although out of the corner of his eye he saw Quinlan bristle at the remark.

Luminara bowed and lowered her head, “No, master.”

“Then come along, it’s no wonder you’re always hungry.”

She followed obediently, but not before shooting Obi-Wan and Quinlan a sad, apologetic gaze as she left.

Quin snarled when they were out of earshot, “Now there’s someone I’d like to pay off. With a good kick in the-”

“Vos,” Obi-Wan chided sternly. 

His friend huffed and glowered, “What?”

“Don’t be crass. At least, not this early in the morning.”

 Quin shrugged and rolled his eyes, finally stepping away to look for an open table. 

“Besides,” Obi-Wan added while following, “I’m pretty sure you’’l have plenty of chances to do that when I’m gone, and am unable to provide you with proper impulse control.”

Quin laughed.

“Nah, it’s not as much fun without someone there sassing me.”

He returned his friend's cheerful look, “That’s a fair point.”

Luckily for the pair, Obi-Wan spotted a good amount of free space beside Qui-Gon, mostly because his master had a reputation of being a messy eater- not to mention, he had taken two trays. 

“Bingo,” Obi-Wan grinned at Vos.

The two padawans approached Jinn and sat beside him, Obi-Wan respectfully nodding while Quinlan eyed the food on the second tray. 

“Hello, master,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied after swallowing a mouthful of food. He took a swig of blue milk and then turned to acknowledge Quin, “Padawan Vos.”

The Kiffar snapped his gaze away from the food, nodding quickly.

“So,” Obi-Wan began, “are there any other details I should be aware of during this mission?” 

Jinn turned his full attention on Obi-Wan, “The duchess is young- about your age, I believe. She’s said to be stubborn but kind, with a deep passion for all living things… much like someone else I know.” A playful spark lit up Qui-Gon’s eyes, something about them very knowing. 

Obi-Wan did his best to concentrate on what his master was saying instead of Vos’ waggling eyebrows and his hand, which swiped a biscuit from Qui-Gon’s tray. He nodded, encouraging his master to continue.

“She’s also just returned home from a political academy located here. But most importantly, she probably won’t take kindly to our help. This mission was administered by her advisor, not her. And, despite the current peace, I’m sure she hasn’t been brought up in an environment that is… encouraging of the Jedi.”

Point two, Quinlan grinned like a fool as he stole a piece of meat of Jinn’s tray. 

“Not to mention,” Qui-Gon continued, oblivious, “her father was a warlord.” 

Oh, Force. Suddenly, Obi-Wan was a whole lot less enthusiastic about this whole thing, and that wasn’t saying much considering his attitude towards it was already pretty negative. 

He had to protect a war-monger’s daughter? Perfect.

“Wow,” Vos mused, “talk about impressing the father in-law,” he chuckled as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned to glare at him, “she better be really worth it Obi-Wan. Is she at least ho-”

He was interrupted by Qui-Gon’s harsh tone, “her father is dead, padawan Vos.”

“Oh,” Quinlan replied faintly, looking down, “my condolences.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and turned back to Obi-Wan, “All in all, our goal is to be an unseen protection service. After all, we don’t want her getting into more trouble just because we put her off.”

“Why is it that we don’t want her getting into any more trouble, master?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning slightly.

Qui-Gon mirrored his expression, “Because, padawan, she requested our help.”

“I thought her advisor was the one who requested our help,” Obi-Wan retorted under his breath, although he knew he shouldn't've. Although he was surprised to admit to himself that he didn’t quite care- after all, the burly masters in line weren’t the only ones who hadn’t had their caff yet.

 Qui-Gon’s frown deepened, “She is her people’s last hope for peace and civility, Obi-Wan. And you will do best not to question her, our assignment, or the council again.”

Obi-Wan looked away dejectedly, “Yes, master.”

He left out any remarks he could’ve made about Qui-Gon doing both of the aforementioned things constantly. 

“Now, just let me finish my-,” Qui-Gon turned to his practically empty tray, where Vos had mysteriously disappeared, and sighed.

Obi-Wan stifled a chuckle, leaving behind only a mischievous sparkle  in his grey-blue eyes. 

“Master?” He asked, encouraging Qui-Gon to wrap up his thought. 

“Let’s just be on our way then, Obi-Wan.”

They rose and exited the mess hall, out into the long corridors and what would be a much more eventful trip than what young Obi-Wan was expecting. 

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

The temple docking bay was huge, containing as large as a republic freighter to as small as a landspeeder. 

 Droids whizzed about everywhere, attending to some business or another. A few officials or Jedi stood out against the field of endless gleaming metal, but besides that there was nothing else living operating within the place. 

Enormous ceilings towered over Obi-Wan’s head as his master led him through the maze of docking bays and landing platforms, until they finally reached a small doorway towards the back. 

A droid met them there to provide them with a datapad of information on the ship; mostly a run-down of the controls and its condition. 

Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction, “Everything seems to be in order here.” He handed it back to the droid, who whisked it away immediately.

“How long will our journey be, master?” Obi-Wan inquired, hoping he didn’t sound whiny. 

“Not very long. About six standard hours, providing there aren't any hyperspace issues.”

Obi-Wan nodded, stepping out of the doorway and into the bright light of Coruscant. 

The ship was a pretty good size; a standard model with red stripes running along its sides. 

The Trial, curious. Obi-Wan didn’t pay ship names much mind, but that was just rather odd. 

Qui-Gon went to go check with the official while Obi-Wan spotted Quinlan leaning against a couple of crates near the door. 

“Vos? How did you know this is where I’d be?”

“Relax man, I just came to say goodbye before you left to go out and find your true love or whatever.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Vos grinned and pulled him into a tight hug, Obi-Wan squirming beneath him.

“Stop that,” he said, finally managing to push his friend back.

“Was Qui-Gon pissed about his food?” Quin asked, gazing hopefully to where Obi-Wan’s master and the other man were still conversing.

“Probably, although not any more than me- I still haven’t had any food yet.” His stomach growled, as if to prove a point.

“Eh, you snooze you lose.”

Obi-Wan grimaced as Vos began to saunter away, his finally parting words being, “Later, buddy! Don’t, like, become a father or anything while you’re gone- I’d hate to miss that.”

Eyeroll. “Goodbye, Vos!”

He shook his head at the sound of his friend’s distant laughter, pacing over to Qui-Gon without so much as a glance backwards. 

“Is everything alright, master?”

“Yes, just making conversation while you and Quinlan said your goodbyes.”

So he did know. Well, that showed Obi-Wan not to underestimate his master. 

“Then lets away.”

Obi-Wan nodded to the man and walked up the ramp into the ship, glancing back at the gleaming building one last time before he took a seat in the cockpit, not even bothering to explore the rest of the ship. He already knew what this model’s interior looked like, and wanted to get this assignment over with as quickly as possible.

Later, Obi-Wan found irony in that wish as he sat in the exact same seat upon the departure of his mission, where the room and his heart had seemed a lot more empty. 

Qui-Gon sat beside him, taking control and handing Obi-Wan the mission log from earlier. 

“What am I to do with this?” He asked, frowning at the tablet-like device. 

“Make notes of the journey,” Qui-Gon replied, “the council emphasized everything is to be included, and since I can’t ever seem to write it the way they want, I thought I’d have you do it.”

“But-”

“Do you have something more productive you could be doing, padawan?”

He shook his head and took the log obligingly without further complaint. It was light in his hands, and he placed it in his lap as he strapped himself in. 

“Our belongings have already been loaded on, everything is in order,” Qui-Gon said, still fiddling with the ship’s settings. 

“Do we have any food?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully. 

Qui-Gon nodded, “It’s back in the kitchen area. Why didn’t you eat earlier?”

Obi-Wan scoffed, “You saw the line, right?”

“You snooze, you lose.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “How about caff?”

Qui-Gon shook his head no, and Obi-Wan deflated. 

“Something tells me that despite my hopes, this is going to be a very long couple of months,” Obi-Wan pouted, leaning his head back against the seat. 

Qui-Gon smiled, “You’re such a pessimist, Obi-Wan. Ready?”

Obi-Wan nodded, “I suppose.”

“Good. Then let’s get this show on the road.”

The ship lifted off, soared out of the atmosphere and into space, and Obi-Wan made sure to note in his report that Qui-Gon forgot which lever to guide forward for hyperspace. When he did find it, darkness and impossibly bright specks of light blended together, and they rocketed forwards before coasting through space, towards destiny. 

[yourmandevine]

Some stuff that made me happy in 2020, in no particular order

God send you no greater loss. It’s something my grandmother said a lot — a bit of highly Irish Catholic wisdom intended to remind you, warmly but sharply, that whatever you’re currently suffering through isn’t all that bad compared to what lots of other people are dealing with. That it probably isn’t too much to complain about, in the grand scheme of things. That you should, instead, be grateful for what you’ve got, big and small and everything in between.

God sent a great many people a great many unfathomable losses this year, and as hard as it felt at times, our family wasn’t among them; we’re lucky, in the big picture. In the past, people have recommended I try writing those reasons down, to give myself a list of stuff to be thankful for, for the times it’s tough to summon up the gratitude. I figured the end of the year was as good a time as any to make that list, to highlight the stuff that helped me get through this year — the reasons big, small, and in between.

So: here goes.

Peanut butter and jelly

I haven’t counted how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’ve eaten since March 11, which is good, because that would be an absurd thing to do, and a sure sign that I have succumbed to a very specific kind of madness. It’s also good, though, because I would undoubtedly be ashamed by the number; the figure would be titanic, like the unsinkable ship of same name, or the iceberg that sunk it.

Or, at least, I would be ashamed under normal circumstances. This fuckin’ year required whatever flotation device you could find, and you know what I found in the fridge and cupboard? A couple of slices of bread, some strawberry jam, and some goddamn Skippy.

Need a weird mid-morning “brunch” after not having breakfast because you went right from waking up to remote school with the 6-year-old? Crank up a PB&J with that third cup of coffee. Need to pack something in the diaper bag to feed everyone while you’re out at the playground for the afternoon? Stack ‘em up, son. Need a late snack after working the overnight shift filing weird bubble playoff columns? Three letters, one ampersand, one love.

I need to eat better in 2021. But I kind of needed to eat sort of like shit to get through 2020, and time and again, when your man needed it most, PB&J was there.

Sunday night Zoom sessions with college friends

I know that most of us started something like this back in March; I’m not sure how many have stuck with it. I hope the answer is “a lot,” because honestly, knowing that I’m going to end the week by seeing a few friends — some here in Brooklyn but mostly beyond our reach for safety’s sake, some who’ve moved away — has felt like a stabilizing agent on more than a few occasions. It’s important, and no small blessing, to have people in your life who really know you, weird messy ugly bits and all, and in front of whom you can let everything go.

That gallery view’s provided a place to vent, to seethe, to laugh, to cry, and to try to find some semblance of center before heading back into another week. I’m grateful for it, and for the people in those little boxes. Except for the time they reminded me that, when I was 18, I was pretty sure I was a Pacey, and they were all extremely confident I was a Dawson. They were right, but still: a bitter pill to swallow, then and now.

Olivia calling herself “Dr. Bloody”

She took out her little toy doctor kit and just turned into a cackling villain.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Dan Devine (@yourmandevine)

Deeply disconcerting, yes, but also adorable.

All Fantasy Everything

What got me in the door was the conceit: three very funny stand-up comedians (Ian Karmel, David Gborie, Sean Jordan), often with a very funny guest but sometimes without, pick some topic or another and engage in a fantasy draft of their favorite aspects or representations of that topic. (It is, crucially, a serpentine draft. Now what is that? That’s a great question.) Some favorite examples: Mikes; Words That You Think Make You Sound Smart, vols. 1 and 2; Things You Yell After You Dunk on Someone; Fictional Athletes; Crimes We’d Like to Commit. Yeah. It’s that kind of podcast.

What kept me around was the friendship. Listen to an episode and it becomes really clear really quickly just how much the three hosts love each other, how much fun they have being around each other and making one another laugh. The warmth radiates, just pours out of the speakers; in a year where I sorely needed some good vibes, I appreciated my regular check-ins with the Good Vibes Gang to just ... unclench for an hour and a half or so. 

Drinking beer

OK, I’ll admit: This doesn’t sound great for me. It’s true, though. I really like beer. (We brewed one in our kitchen, which I realize is something of a “bearded guy in Brooklyn” cliche, but here we are. It was exciting to complete a project, and it tasted OK-ish.) At some points this year, it didn’t feel like there wasn’t much to look forward to, and sometimes drinking some High Lifes or Narragansett tall boys — with my wife in our living room, with friends on the computer, whatever — helped take the edge off a shitty day/week/month/year. I look forward to being able to do that outside with people again.

The Good Place

I am sure some very smart cultural critics and political thinkers and social revolutionaries have forwarded compelling arguments for why this show is Bad, Actually, because that seems to be more or less true about most things, whether because said thing is Actually Bad or because the economics of the attention economy on the internet functionally necessitate the composition and publication of pretty much every position on pretty much every issue, and especially ones that present a counterargument for why you shouldn’t like the thing you like, and might be kind of a piece of shit for liking it. But I liked this half-hour comedy about the way the universe might be put together, why we should try to take better care of each other, and how doing so might be a pretty great way to take better care of ourselves.

Andrew let me write about it a little bit for a big project we did before the series finale aired, which was really nice of him. I found myself thinking about this part a lot this year:

I also thought a lot about Peeps Chili, but that happens every year.

Taking pictures of my dog

Check out this flumpy goddamn champion:

“Lugar is a good boy” is the main takeaway here. They don’t all have to be complicated.

Schitt’s Creek

I know we’re not alone in this, but we inhaled this show this year. A half-hour comedy about people being laid low, learning how to deal with who they actually are, and finding some grace and community and opportunities for growth kind of hit the spot, I guess.

One of the most wholesale enjoyable ensemble comedy casts I can remember; Catherine O’Hara was already in Cooperstown, but what she made with Moira Rose only polishes her plaque. I’ll never be able to describe with any specificity the thing Chris Elliott does, but I know it has made me laugh since I was a child too young to understand the Letterman bits or see Cabin Boy in the theater, and it’s probably going to make me laugh until I am dead.

I love that people who, for years, never got to see themselves or people like them on screen got to see David Rose on screen and maybe recognize themselves a little bit. The idea that seeing the David/Patrick relationship might make them maybe feel a little more at home, a little safer and more whole, makes me happy. Sad, about the before, but happy, about the now and the what comes next.

Past that, I just love how what was ostensibly a family-and-friends production for a Canadian channel just got absolutely everything right—the tone, the look, the sound, the theme song, the cast, the jokes, my goodness, the jokes—and before long, the rest of the world just got it. Like catching a fastball square on the barrel. Something the show clearly knew a little bit about.

Finding new outdoor places it was safe to go

Necessity is the mother of invention, and the need to give the kids a place to be that wasn’t unnecessarily dangerous but also wasn’t inside our two-bedroom apartment led us to do more exploring than we had before. Shirley Chisholm State Park is great. Canarsie Pier was a fun place to spend a Sunday morning; so’s Canarsie Playground. If we got there early enough or made our peace with some rain, the beaches at Jacob Riis Park and Fort Tilden were pretty rad this summer. I lived in Staten Island from ages 8 through 18, and during breaks throughout college, and don’t think I ever hiked in High Rock Park — that’s dumb, because it was nice!

Even if all those little excursions did was kill a little time and reduce the overall stress level of the four humans stuck in our four walls, that’s not nothing. Some days this year, it was everything.

Cobra Kai

I know I’m late here; I didn’t rush to seek it out because I don’t consider myself a huge fan of The Karate Kid, or at least not a big enough fan to sign up for YouTube’s premium service. I checked it out when it came to Netflix, though, and I honestly can’t believe how much I enjoyed this show. Give me “dumb, but with heart” every day of the week.

I believe in Miguel Diaz; I believe in Johnny Lawrence; I believe I will be firing up Season 3 next month, and perhaps drinking some Coors Banquets in its honor. (I cannot, however, believe how the “get him a body bag” thing came back around, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Closing unread tabs

I’m a serial hoarder of links, and I am bad at finishing all of them. I’ve tried to get into Pocket and Instapaper, but I’ve never been able to turn that sort of workflow — open link, save to third-party service, go back to third-party service later to read, then delete from there — into something that felt instinctual, natural, or habitual. So: lots of tabs. Like, lots of tabs.

This was a dicier proposition than usual in 2020, because cutting my work week in half to be able to more effectively coparent two kids who didn’t have school or day care for most of the year meant less time to read things.

I tried to do my best to keep up with the important stuff for work, and to read at least some stuff about how other parents were dealing with their anxiety/anger/depression/frustration at having to be on 24/7 and work, and to stay abreast of (at least some of) what was happening in the world. Sometimes, though, I would wake up and realize I’d been holding onto blog posts about Really Interesting Rotation Decisions on the 11th-Seeded Team in the East or whatever for literally nine months, and I would go against my nature and just hit the eject button on a 25-deep window, and something amazing would happen: I wouldn’t get fired for being shitty at my job. I would move on with my day, and I would feel about 10 pounds lighter.

I still keep too much stuff open. (As we speak, I’ve got three different Chrome windows open on two different laptops. I choose not to count the total tabs.) But I do so knowing that, if it gets too heavy, I can experience the momentary joy of surrendering to the inevitability that I can’t catch everything. In that moment, I feel OK with my decay.

Reading writers I wasn’t familiar with before

Two in particular stand out in my mind: Nekias Duncan, now of BasketballNews.com, who does excellent film breakdowns and statistical analysis, and Katie Heindl, who writes basketball stuff of all types all over the place, and strings sentences together in a way that scratches an itch inside my brain. I’m grateful I got more chances to read them this year, I look forward to bigger and better things for both of them, and I’m hopeful that, if things calm down and our schedules go back to something approximating normalcy, I’ll have more bandwidth to hunt out more new voices in the year ahead.

The time I ambushed my wife as she was trying to break down and put away the girls’ space tent

Pretty good.

Siobhan learning to ride a bicycle (with training wheels, but still)

The moment passed pretty quickly; Not Exactly A Mechanic over here can’t get the training wheels to reliably work right without either loosening them too much or tightening them so much that she can’t pedal it. In that first moment, though, and for as long as it lasted, it was really great to see her get excited about doing something new, big kid shit, for the first time.

She was proud. I was proud of her. And then we went to a playground for a few hours. Pretty good day.

Tyler Tynes roasting me

Tyler did some incredible work this year — The Cam Chronicles is getting deserved praise as one of 2020′s best podcasts, and his reporting on the Movement for Black Lives was exemplary. It’s hard to top this, though:

You know what the messed up part is? I was excited to tell him what I was doing, just because I knew the reaction would be so violent. Like a body rejecting a transplant. So lucky to have such a dear, dear friend.

PUP

I’m late on everything, so I didn’t start listening to PUP until the spring of 2019, but I haven’t really stopped since. This year has been too sedentary too often; this band is too kinetic to allow me to stay there.

“Bloody Mary Kate and Ashley Kate” is never more than about 20 minutes away from returning to the front of my mind. I would fucking love for it to be safe enough to watch these guys live at some point, and I am absolutely going to take Steve up on his offer.

Someone sending me a shirt based on a joke I tweeted

First:

Then:

Then:

I’m not sure you should be rewarding my behavior, SnoCoPrintShop, but I appreciate it all the same.

Which reminds me:

Family dinner/family movie night

My wife works in Manhattan and commutes back on the train, and we've tried to prioritize getting the girls to bed early since they were little, so that doesn’t leave much of a window between when she gets home and they go in the tub for us all to connect; before everything shut down, we almost never really ate together. We’re still not great about it, but for a while now we’ve carved out Saturday as family dinner night, where we sit down to eat and talk about our “up” from the day — something that happened that made us feel good or happy, or something we’re looking forward to. (We used to talk about our “down,” too, but that kind of seemed like overkill. Why try to focus on more bad shit right now, you know?)

Then we settle in for a movie, with who gets to pick rotating each week. It’s mostly been Pixar, which has been great but also has its drawbacks; after she caught me crying during one of them (maybe the Bing-Bong scene in Inside Out? or Miguel singing to Grandma Coco?), Siobhan straight up told me, “You need to get yourself together, man.” We just watched My Neighbor Totoro, too, which they loved, so we’re probably going to try some more Miyazaki soon. It’s a really simple thing, but it’s one we rarely made time for before, and it’s been really nice to manufacture something positive that we can share and look forward to together.

Sometimes looking like a shiftless drifter

No shade to anyone who felt strongly about getting a lineup or whatever, but I haven’t really felt like going to the barbershop was worth the risk, and I continue to refuse to believe that my wife can actually pull off the fade she’s long wanted to give me. (It is also possible that she just means she’s intending to run my fade, and that I will before long wind up cold-cocked and slumped by my bride of nine years.) So I’ve just kind of been growing out my hair like it was when I was single, and sometimes been letting my beard get kind of out of control too, and, well, I sort of like looking a little bit like a Wildling, it turns out.

I have since trimmed things up a little. It didn’t go over well with my youngest. Oh, well. I’ll try to do better next time.

My wife and daughter singing the Pixies

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We don’t know all the words to too many lullabies, so we sing the ones we do know the words to. This will probably come back to bite us in the years ahead. For now, though: Pretty good.

Doughboys’ Tournament of Chompions: Munch Madness: Mac Attack

I can’t believe how invested I became in Nick Wiger and Mike Mitchell’s quest to determine the best menu item at McDonald’s in a 64-seed tournament that spawned hours and hours of delightfully funny audio featuring all-time home-run guests like Jon Gabrus and Nicole Byer, who gleefully feed into the often warm, sometimes antagonistic, always entertaining chemistry between the two hosts. I have also never found myself wanting to go to McDonald’s more in my entire life. I have hit the drive-thru a couple of times since, and the boys are right: The McDonald’s fountain Coke does just hit different.

Sound Only

I’ve lost track of whether or not a 38-year-old is considered a millennial, but I’m quite confident that I’m not exactly plugged into “the millennial lifestyle” as my teammates Justin Charity and Micah Peters discuss it on their podcast, which relaunched this summer. Doesn’t matter, though, because I love hearing Charity and Micah talk to each other even if I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Their conversation about Dave Chappelle was great. After listening to their Travis Scott episode, I felt like I kind of understood who he is and why he occupies the space he does in pop culture now. I had no idea how they were going to get me to give a shit about set photos from The Batman, but this they not only got me there, but wended their way toward blaming 50 Cent for needing to know who Groot is to have a conversation on the internet, which is something for which Abraham Lincoln did not die. The show is good, it's getting better, it’s fun to hear them talk their shit, and Charity’s regular bellowing of “I, TOO, AM AMERICA” has made me smile for four straight months. 

Siobhan’s letters and notes

She’s in first grade now, and she’s taken to communicating her feelings through the written word. A lot.

I won’t pretend that I loved all of these in the moment. I can only get so upset, though, when she’s already writing with such a clear voice. (And trying to use proper punctuation. (And drawing little cartoons to drive the point home.)

Palm Springs

I’m having a hard time remembering too many specifics about it right now, which probably means it’d be a good thing to rewatch over the holidays. But, as I’m sure many people noted many months before we got around to watching it, a comedy about living the same day over and over again, and about trying to figure out how to make your life mean something when everything seems meaningless, scratched a pretty particular, and particularly important, itch this year. It could’ve been twice as long, and I would’ve eaten up every second of Andy Samberg and Cristin Miloti together.

I’m pretty sure I cried, although this year, that doesn’t necessarily mean much.  Also, put Conner O’Malley in more things.

Joining our union’s bargaining committee

I won’t say too much about this, but I will say that becoming an active participant in the process of a labor union negotiating its first contract with management has been an extremely educational experience. It’s pushed me to have conversations, sometimes difficult ones, about our priorities as a staff and a company. It's helped me get closer with the other past and present members of the BC, and has led me to start developing relationships with members of our staff that I otherwise might not have had much of an opportunity to get to know.

The organizing work takes time, effort, and energy, but trying to do what I can to help take better care of my colleagues has been well worth all of that. Here’s hoping that in 2021 we can reach a deal that helps make our workplace even better, stronger, and more equitable for all of us.

Publishing a story about Stevie Nicks’ Fajita Roundup

I swear this is true: After I accepted my offer to work at The Ringer, but before I started, I told a friend that one thing I was excited about was that you had the chance to work on offbeat stuff here, in both the “kind of weird” and “not about the NBA” senses. That, I thought, might maybe open the door to me getting to write a story about a Saturday Night Live sketch I saw when I was a teenager about Stevie Nicks from Fleetwod Mac running a cheap Tex-Mex restaurant in Sedona, Arizona — a sketch that I wasn’t sure anyone else remembered, but that was stuck in my head forever.

That story ran on May 26.

A lot of people seemed to like it.

Accomplishing this goal was, as dumb as this might sound, a highlight of my year, and, honestly, a highlight of my career. I’d like to do some more stuff like this next year, time permitting; we’ll see. Whether or not I do, I got to do this. I’ll always have that.

[reconhq]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to make a (very LGBTA positive) webseries of her own?.

oh boy! I sure do. I’ve actually been on a couple other projects other than Recon, all after the first season was written & mostly after the first season was shot, and ya girl has learned a lot because of and since season 1!

i am so sorry but this is going to be SO long. i am kinda obsessed with web series & digital content and it’s my actual professional career now so just… get ready. sorry 😅 i’ll add a TLDR at the end.

(p.s. this is just advice from me, Emma, and not the rest of the Recon team who may have different/additional advice, maybe someone will add on after the holidays) 

write your bible before anything! depending on if you’re co-creating or just co-producing/writing, this should be done before you bring on additional folks. if you’re co-creating, this is obviously a collaborative process. when i created recon, i did it on my own. i pitched the original idea to some dear friends (one of whom makes a cameo as a security guard in ep 20!) and got their opinions, adapted from their advice, and once i had a solid format, main character, and general plot, i started on the bible. it took probably a month of fucking around before i felt ready to write a bible. 

the basic components of a bible are a log line, short season overview, character breakdowns for your characters (mine are ~paragraph or two for main characters, with shorter ones for less central characters), a summary of the show’s main themes, genre and tones, and the format of the show (if you’re mapping out multiple seasons, it may be relevant to do this for each season as well as the overall show), as well as the most important part of your bible– the episode breakdowns. i’ll touch on those in a minute. 

i do all my original brainstorming on paper, because i am adhd as fuck and it’s easier for me. your bible isn’t the place to brainstorm. separate them out. not saying you have to write on paper, but have a separate doc for brainstorming so the formatting for your bible can be easy to follow. 

if you’re co-producing or having someone else produce your work, it makes sense to have your co-producer or producer right there with you as you work on your bible to give feedback. does this mean they’re writing it? no. is it useful as hell? yes. 

my partner-in-creative-crime justice and i tend to share bibles and brainstorm docs with each other when we’re working together on a project. depending on which roles we’re playing on each project (e.g., i’m producing his podcast COSMIC under our company name but not co-creating or writing, so i mostly gave notes on his bible. we’re also working on a series called Inked, and we’re more like co-creators there, so we both write in the doc.)

your bible is the holy doc of your show; it’s what you show to any writers, producers, designers, any creative working on your show so that everyone is on the same page. it is your main reference and guiding light through the whole season; make it clear, organized, and as easy to read as possible. i personally use google docs for my bibles, and use the hell out of the outline function. highly recommend, but everyone has their own system.

break your ENTIRE story before before you write a single script, before you write your pilot, before anything. it’s part of your bible.

if you’re not super familiar with tv/screenwriting, breaking a story means figuring out the beats. the breakdown of reason s1 started as messy af writing on whiteboards, and turned into this:

this is absolutely not what your first outlines or final drafts will look like. we changed…. a ton while writing our scripts. you can see even in this sequence– episode 8 and 9 got blurred, and we barely touched on ava’s past because there wasn’t room. regardless, this doc & breakdown served as the basis for all our writers and kept us all on roughly the same page. when we disagreed, we could go back to this and sort it out from there! 

find your people. two roles were crucial to me when we made recon: a mentor, and collaborators. having good people behind me was so so important; i could have never done this on my own.

i got…….. so lucky with my mentor, bernie su. he not only gave me incredible advice, read scripts, and reviewed cuts, he purchased the damn show, accounting for 75% of our funding. i feel like it’s important for me to acknowledge the luck and privilege i have here: the show would not happened without him, and i only got that chance because i live in LA, went to USC, and applied for the right job at the right time. HOWEVER, aside from the funding that made recon possible, bernie’s expertise seriously helped. after principle photography, we were left feeling lackluster, and bernie gave me advice that led me to make changes that transformed the show. having someone with experience– whether in tv, film, web series, any sort of writing– is invaluable. 

while i created recon on my own, i did not develop or make it on my own. the episode breakdowns? half me, half other people (mainly justice lol). the look of the show? EP/DP christa, production designer amanda, graphic designer hal, and justice as costuming lead. i did not write season 1 on my own. i recruited friends from USC and even one from high school to write episodes i didn’t think i could do justice (no pun intended). 

once you’ve found your people, trust them. there will obviously be cases where you disagree enough with someone’s creative opinions that you shouldn’t, but except in extreme cases, trust your people. try to only chose people you trust in the first place. letting go was so so so hard, but many of the best parts of recon happened because i got over myself and trusted my cast and crew. episode 16, player vs player, was justice’s baby, and i almost didn’t let him roll with the animations because i was too nervous. holy fuck, i’m so glad i trusted him. same with reflections (ep 15), written by my now-fiancé, which no one else could have written. hal was a bit unsure going in, but the episode is phenomenal. my production designer’s choices were amazing, and i had little to do with them other than being like “yes that is so cool let’s do it”

seriously. trust your people. watching bernie on artificial & emma approved trust us, his crew of mostly 20-somethings, with creative decisions taught me a huge lesson. i was 19 when he hired me, 19 when he bought the show, and he actually fucking trusted me and the rest of his team to do things. my initial reaction was what the fuck, but it worked. it also let him focus on the big picture while giving us the space we needed to feel creatively and emotionally fulfilled. trust your people.

this also applies to your actors. we had a google drive specifically for our actors to throw up ideas/backstory for their characters, and we’d read through it and give feedback and contributions. it led to better performances and characters with more depth. we also met with actors where we could to discuss their ideas for directions for their characters– video game nerd taylor came from convos with joré. 

katiemichal and kat were just like, the same people as their characters, so there was less of this, but there is definitely value in casting the irl versions of your characters as them.

edit your episodes individually, then read through the WHOLE SEASON at once to edit. repeat that until you read it and it’s cohesive. 

keep track of your timeline and your canon, even canon that’s not explicit in the show. there’s so much recon lore that we kept to ourselves that informs several decisions in the first season. 

unless your character’s race/ethnicity (even gender) is a key part of their character or the show, cast with an open net. ava was originally a white girl name jody. ana, the actress who played her, originally auditioned for riley, and we changed the character’s entire backstory for her, which added an amazing dimension to the show we get to see in reflections (and an upcoming podcast shh). lesson fucking learned on my part– almost too late. don’t be like me.

ren, on the other hand, we were 100% sure was non-binary, and although we opened auditions to all genders, we specified from the start it was a non-binary character and we’d give priority to queer/nb actors. it was the right choice.

PRODUCTION DESIGN IS FUCKING IMPORTANT. cinematography is great, and we obviously focused on it a lot w the style of our show, but PD tells so much of your story without saying a word or taking up a second of airtime.

sound is the single most important thing on set. you can make an ugly shot work, ugly sound will bring people immediately out of the show and possibly abandon it. we fucked up scheduling for Punching Bag, and had to delay its release (it was originally episode 13, not 14), hire a sound editor, and put a goddamn disclaimer on it because we didn’t have time to get good sound because of our own mistakes. arguably my biggest regret of the season, because the script and acting for that episode is so good, and we low-key ruined it. GET GOOD SOUND. 

only exception to this is probably coverage and continuity; although those can be fudged a lil more. get a script supervisor or have your AD do it so you don’t miss anything crucial. always get your masters first. 

schedule more than you think you should. like, down to the 15-minute block. it won’t work, but it will work worse if you don’t. do your best to stay on schedule (hint: AD/producer on set)

trust your gut. this is your baby, and your choices should service the story you want to tell. let that be your north star, and while you should let your story evolve with time and the contributions of your cast and crew,  

TL;DR: write your bible & break your season first. find a team you trust, and trust them with their choices (both cast & crew). if you can, find a mentor/someone with experience to give advice. edit your show both as individual episodes and as a whole season, multiple times. continuity is crucial, backstory is crucial, coverage is crucial, scheduling is crucial. GET GOOD SOUND. and always keep sight of the story you want to tell.

i am so sorry. this is a fucking essay. 

[el-nervy]

Mismatched (Part 1)

This is my first fanfic! An Avengers/Loki AU! I can’t believe I finished this first part. This was sitting in my drafts for months! 

I’m a noob about this writing stuff. Please excuse my English; its not my native language. Constructive criticism is very welcome.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warning: Mentions of death

______________________ You feel so tired, your shirt is soaked in sweat and you are mostly covered with dirt. Plowing a garden is not the best job in the world but you have to eat and pay your bills . Everyday you go to the town to check if there are job postings. You are doing some odd jobs for now because you haven’t find any decent job yet. You quit your  job of 4 months because your ex-boss was a scumbag.

“Y/N, here’s the payment for your service.” the old lady handed you a small bag of coins. “Thank you. Pleasure doing business with you.” you replied. You got on your horse, “Let’s hurry Onix time to hunt some dinner.” you patted its behind and you dashed your way to the forest.

You hopped off from Onix and took out your small hunting sack and your bow and arrows. You left your horse near the entrance of the forest then silently made your way inside.

You were walking for almost an hour and the sun was about to set, you were about to give up then you saw a fat pheasant. You slowly raised your bow, aiming at the pheasant, when suddenly something rustled in the bushes startling the pheasant; it started to run. You cursed under your breath and quickly followed the pheasant. It was running so fast then it started to fly. You quickly aimed at the bird and shot it. The bird fell down. You picked up the dead bird and put it in your hunting sack. Then you heard a rustle again, you quickly raised your bow aiming at the bushes where its coming from.

Suddenly, a messy white haired man came out from the bushes with his arms raised, “Please don't shoot me.” he said with a smirk.  “By Odin’s beard! Pietro I almost shot you!  And you almost let my dinner fly away!” you screamed at him.  “I'm sorry, I’m sorry, but admit it I scared you” he chuckled.  “Whatever... “

You both started to walk out of the forest.  “Anyway, what are you doing here in the forest?” you asked him.  “I just picked up some herbs for Wanda. Oh I almost forgot!” he took a folded paper out of his pocket and gave it to you. “ What’s this?” you asked him. “Read it.” he said. You unfolded the paper and read it aloud, “Annual Archery Tournament, 3000 gold for the winner. 1000 gold for the runner-up. The contest is next week. Pietro, how did you find this?” “I was at the tavern last night, one of the drunkards dropped it. I thought of you when I saw this.”  “Aww.. your the bestest best friend ever!” You hugged him.  “I know I’m the best.”   “And you just ruined our best friend moment.”  “You should join the tournament.”  “I will compete this is a great opportunity to earn money. Mother won’t need to worry about the rent  for 6 months if I ever win first place.” You told him excitedly.

“Mother, I’m home!”, you shouted. “Oh my, why are you covered in dirt?”, your mother asked. “I plowed someone’s garden today, they paid me a decent amount of gold.” “Alright, go clean up while I prepare dinner.” “Mother, I brought us dinner. It’ s a pheasant.”, you handed your hunting sack to your mother. “Did you hunt again in the forest?” Your mother asked. “Umm.. yes.” you answered. “Y/N how many times do I have to tell you, don’t go to the forest when the sun is about to set. It’s very dangerous out there.”  she told you with a worried face. “I know, mother. But we don’t have any food left, and you haven’t eaten properly since yesterday.” you told your mother with the same worried expression on your face. Your mother sighed, “Y/N, I’m just worried that you might get hurt, I don’t want you to end up like your father. I miss him dearly.” “I miss him too.”

Your father died when you were only 18. He used to be one of the king’s soldier; he was a great fighter, at the same time a loving husband and a caring father. He taught you many things; one of them is how to use a bow and arrow. You admired your father very much that you wanted to follow his path to be a soldier. 

You all lived happily. Until one day, your father was sent to the war in  Muspelheim. Lots of soldiers died in the battle, and unfortunately your father was one of the fallen soldiers. You, especially your mother, were devastated of the news about your father. After your father’s death, your mother became more overprotective. You swear to yourself you’ll look after your mother, so you let go of the dream of becoming a soldier. 

Since then your mother work very hard as a seamstress, and occasionally, at the palace’s kitchen when sewing business is slow. You also started to look for a job to help your mother. Your first job was at a small flower shop, which was owned by a kind old woman. You love your job as a flower shopkeeper and worked there for almost 10 years, but of course all good things must come to an end. The owner decided to close her shop, which was 6 months ago, due to her old age. So she left the city and lived with her son and his family in the country side. After that, here you are, taking all the part time jobs that nobody wants. But you are determined to give your mother a good life. So you think that this will do for now until you get a decent job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The city of Asgard is already fully awake even before the sun rises. Even the palace is already busy. Every morning, Loki goes somewhere in the palace, where he can read his book peacefully. Today, he decided to go to the east balcony of the palace. 

“GOOD MORNING, BROTHER!”, Thor greeted.  “Morning, brother. Must you be so loud early in the morning.”, Loki replied, eyes still at the book. “Anyways, what do you want, Thor?”. “Come with us, Loki. We’re going to spar after breakfast .” “ No, thank you.” “Alright then, I’ll just tell father why half of the council had a sudden stomach ache yesterday.” Loki shut his book and glared at his brother. “Fine! I’ll go with you!”

Both of them entered the huge dining room. At the head of the long, rectangular wooden table is where King Odin sits, while Queen Freya is sitting on his right side. Thor took the seat across the queen and Loki took the seat beside her. The two princes greeted the king and queen good morning. The servant in waiting poured drinks for the princes.

“Leave us be.”, the king commanded, and all the servants in the room exited.  “Frigga, Thor.”  The Queen and Prince Thor stood up and left. But before the Queen, she gave Loki a worried look. “Loki, remember what we discussed about six months ago?” “Yes, father.” “So have you found yourself a suitable wife?” “No, not yet... father, please give me more time!”, Loki plead. “I already gave you lots of chances! Next week, We will be holding a matchmaking for you.” “But father —” “Enough! That’s my final decision.” Loki stood up and stormed out of the room.

To be cont... (part 2)

[far-away-stars]

Can I ask all for Tenja or Ezio (or both c;) for the NPC asks? -v-

Hi, yes, I did both kitties, which mean it took me too long and got tired of trying to make any sense halfway through it, so sorry if it doesn’t make any sense or it’s just lame here and there. :’D

Tenja Rel 

1. Would they be recruitable?

As a new Jedi in training, yes, I pretty much think so. Sith is harder since he’s quite individualistic and has a pretty possessi-ehm, protective brother.

2. Would they be a class specific character? (ie. Imperial Agent only. Republic character only)

Probably Jedi specific. Either Consular or Knight both.

3. When would you recruit them? Vanilla story? an Expac? Post KOTET?

I think vanilla would be good, learning “peacefully” on the field the ways of Jedi.

4. Where would you recruit them from?

Probably directly from the Temple on Tython, going to pick him up for a mission you were assigned for by some of the higher-ups.

5. What would their recruitment mission be?

He wouldn’t really need one, since, simply put, he doesn't really have a choice, I’ll assume whatever missions the characters made so far in name of the Republic and jedi were enough as a vote of trust for the Council. If we are talking some sort of loyalty mission … maybe he asks you to accompany him on some sort of travel to Voss? To get some help for his blindness. Not to cure it, but to stop the phantom pains probably, or the general headaches from using the Force to “see” while not being yet fully used to it. It may also lead to a dream-travel adventure of sorts (with some comments of his regarding how he can somehow “see” you now.)

6.What would be their original recruitment outfit?

Visas Marr in an all-black dye.

7. Would there be a character they don’t like? Would that cause you to choose sides?

Well. There would be issues if he somehow came into contact with his brother, Di’taqt, so any sort-of public alliance with the Sith would probably be problematic.

8. Are they romancable? Why/why not?

They are, but it’s probably not one of the easiest shells to break. He didn’t really allowed himself love for the sake of it, I mean, his last wife blinded him in a fit of rage. Also, well, he doesn’t mind sex at all, because it what he was used to as a Sith and wasn’t going to go chaste just for the sake of old ass Jedi traditions, so there’s that. But, well. He doesn’t think love has a change to turn out well. He can be proved wrong, if one is willing to try.

9. What would they say if you clicked on them?

“I’m listening.” “What do you have in store for us today, my friend?” “At your service.” “I do wonder if it’s a wise idea.” “Mhnn, gossip. I like it.” “No one suspects the blind man.”

10. Do they know any other in game characters? (ie. trained under Satele Shan during the civil war. Knew Talos before he went to Hoth)

Aside from his brother and general Sith acquaintances I don’t think so.

11. What weapon(s) would they have?

His lightsaber, standard force-sensitive equipment. His sly charm.

12. Are they better as a tank, healer or DPS?

Essentially DPS but he can manage a decent amount of healing, at least for himself. His specialty consists in entropic redistribution of the Force, basically siphoning life force from his enemies to himself, wasting away his enemies while healing and strengthening himself.

13. What gifts do they Love? Like? What would they say when you gave them a gift?

Weapon and Trophy, probably. Doesn't mind Luxury and Courting either. - “Well. Someone will certainly find a use to it.” “Appreciated.” “For me? I’m honored.” “I.. thank you, my friend. It’s truly wonderful.”

14. What would they say if you sent them away/changed them out?

“I’ll be there when you need me.” “Good rest to you.” “Oh, you wound me, leaving so soon.” “I dare you to find company as good as mine, my friend.”

15. What do they say when they heal you? What do they say when they are attacking?

“Hush, hush. Better already, is it?” “Don’t die on me, my friend, I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.” “Fresh air and the the kiss of life.” - “Tut-tut, I’ll show how it’s done.” “Let it go. It will hurt less if you don’t fight it.” “You are lacking finesse. Not that it will matter for longer still.” “Do us a favor. Don’t get up.”

16. What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places?

They certainly like to say something at each planet, idle stuff, less prone to start random conversations if unprompted.

17. What letters would they send post vanilla class story/SOR/KOTFE

Romance :

He would probably be so frustrated trying to write one, or think of a gift, but, yeah, letters are not his forte. He wouldn’t know what to write, how to explain, how to express what he feels. Not the full story of his life on paper would be enough to try to begin to put into words how he feels to this day next to them.

He will try to prove it, to show it, to make it spoken in a language he hopes the character will understand, but, no. Not in a letter. He will write invisible patterns on their skin, he will smile his gratitude and hold his hopes in their arms with them. And hope they understand.

Also he would have to dictate it to a holo-transcriptor and yeah, no.

18. If they are recruitable in vanilla story, where are they during KOTFE/TET? What are/were they doing?

Probably still with the Jedi. He didn’t have much choice, he couldn’t really go back to the Empire, and it’s not as if they were faring any better Tho I bet he was one of the most frustrated ones after the deal with Zakuul, very bitter. He may have left at a certain point to join some resistance’s group, if anything not to feel so useless.

Lucretyiio 

1. Would they be recruitable?

Buy him food and he’s yours, honestly.

2. Would they be a class specific character? (ie. Imperial Agent only. Republic character only)

No, not really. He usually strays away from force sensitives and isn’t overly fond of the Empire, but well, he doesn’t judge people from covers. Or tries at least,

3. When would you recruit them? Vanilla story? an Expac? Post KOTET?

He’s pretty freestyle. He constantly asks for rides. Anytime would work.

4. Where would you recruit them from?

A Cantina. Could be anywhere from Coruscant, to Tatooine, to Nar Shadda.

5. What would their recruitment mission be?

Help him take down or stop some violent gang making business around probably, or something of the sort.

6.What would be their original recruitment outfit?

Canderous Ordo armor.

7. Would there be a character they don’t like? Would that cause you to choose sides?

Honestly.. Not really. There’s a lot of things he doesn’t like, but it’s not about choosing sides, not really, it’s about engaging ourselves to be the best we can possibly be. He doesn’t actually wants to shun or isolate people. He won't be comfortable or agree with everyone, but he wants to believe it’s doable while offering the chance to be united.

Honestly, like, yeah, he will vocally disagree to a lot of stuff if it involves violence, abuse and all that stuff. But he will stay as long as he believes in the cause. Being open about his opinions is also one of the ways he hopes will help changing things for the best and influence people with new ideas.

8. Are they romancable? Why/why not?

Yes, very. He’s so flirty. He just happens to become a mess if you flirt back. You may have to pick him up on a spoon. But he’ll sing all the love ballads to you.

9. What would they say if you clicked on them?

“Never wondered : why Banthas? No, like, that’s it. That’s the question. I can’t figure them out, mate.” “Why nothing rhymes with “Saresh”?” “Bada-mba-dababum mate, ya feel me?” “I. Need. Ice Cream.” “Oh shit, forgot the safety on the blaster.” “I’m here all day folks.” “No, man, you are the sidekick.”

10. Do they know any other in game characters? (ie. trained under Satele Shan during the civil war. Knew Talos before he went to Hoth)

Nope, don’t think so.

11. What weapon(s) would they have?

His brazen and melodious singing voice. His halliksete, if smashed on someone’s head. A blaster that he mostly knows how to use. Also smoke grenades. Because he often needs a diversion from when he needs to quickly disappear.

12. Are they better as a tank, healer or DPS?

He can damage things alright. Mostly willingly. I wouldn’t really trust him for anything else.

13. What gifts do they Love? Like? What would they say when you gave them a gift?

Underworld Good and Courting are his faves. Luxury and Cultural Artefact can work out. - “Hey, yeah, cool. What is it?” “Fancy ass cool, man!” “Fuck. Thanks.” “*sobbing*”

14. What would they say if you sent them away/changed them out?

“Hey, be back soon for another show.” “Yeeees, party time!” “No, yeah, of course I can be left to my own devices. No dangers. Ah.” “I’ll be back when you need me!”

15. What do they say when they heal you? What do they say when they are attacking?

“Hey. Wanna me to kiss it better?” “I’m trying!” “Hey, all better, Am I the best or am I the best?” “Oh fuck man that must have hurt.” - “Aaaand perfect strike for local handsome!” “Yes, that was… totally what I meant to do!” “Oh fuck that hurt.” “In your BEHIND, dude.”

16. What’s their idle chatter like? Do they talk a lot (when you arrive on each planet) or do they suddenly say something in some strange places?

He talks a lot. Don’t even get me started.

17. What letters would they send post vanilla class story/SOR/KOTFE

One of his letters, both romance and not-romance (tho romance’s content are slightly different) is the messy drafts of a song he’s trying to compose about the character. It’s some sort of epic tale, or brash cantina chant, or something more private. It’s a mess, with all his annotations. It’s very sincere. He says he never managed to finish it, and maybe it’s because he doesn’t want it to finish. Never.

18. If they are recruitable in vanilla story, where are they during KOTFE/TET? What are/were they doing?

Helping refugees. He started off really angry, blazen songs about Zakuul and how they all had to fight. Then… he just wanted to help people.

[canaryatlaw]

Okay so I’m currently in a car on a potentially periled freeway somewhere in Wisconsin driving home from the P!ATD concert with Jess in the snow, so that’s fun. Today’s been pretty good though. I was glad I was actually able to get my ass out of bed when my alarm went off at 8 this morning because I was tempted to sleep in but I knew that was stupid when I get to sleep in all damn week because I’m not doing anything with my life right now. But I got up and got ready, took the 8:41 bus off to church. The temperature when I woke up and looked at my phone was precisely 1 degree, so I went ahead and retrieved my single digit weather monster coat that I save for these circumstances when it’s really really bad because it’s fucking huge and a pain to deal with (but actually rather successful at staying warm, so that’s good). Made good time despite the weather and got to church like ten minutes before the service started (which is like optimal). The service was very good, as always, but our female pastor was preaching and I always love her messages, lol. She was preaching about being redirected in life and used the time when Moses was stuck in the wilderness for 40 years with the Israelites and particularly the use of his staff (because God would be like “hit this rock with your staff and water will come out” when the people needed water) as a way of leading and just like trusting God and listening when things do not go according to our plans for them. So that was good and the music was really good too. After the service I went to the kids volunteer lounge (where I was late for our little powwow since I didn’t sneak out of the service early because I was sitting more in the front than usual) where we chatted quickly to hear what the game plan was and go from there. Once we had that figured out I went to the babies room and we started getting babies. We only had a few when the service started but then it picked up and we ended up with like 15 lol but we had five people helping so our ratio was still okay. Overall things were actually really calm, only really had like one kid crying at any given point so that was pretty good, I bounced around between a few kids, had a very cute little boy that I was handed when his parents dropped him off who seemed snuggle-inclined at first so I thought he might be clingy but he steadily worked his way off of me and into playing. He was like 8 months old so he was doing a lot of crawling and like turning himself over and such. One little girl had a diaper blow out that looked real bad but thankfully I didn’t have to deal with that. Then I had a little girl for a while that wanted me to sit on the chair in the corner with her on my lap so we did that for a while. But yeah, overall it was pretty good, no real complaints. It was slightly warmer when I was getting ready to leave but I didn’t have enough patience to do public transit an hour home once again so I opted for an Uber pool that was not badly priced. Got home at like 1:50, at which point I retrieved my almost completed Italian rainbow cookies which I had to cover in chocolate still. So I got them out and melted the chocolate candy coating I’d bought for this purpose because it melts really smoothly and is easy to deal with, which it was, and spread it over the top then put it in the fridge to harden for half an hour while I changed and grabbed stuff to get ready. Depending on how snow turned out we wanted to be prepared about the possibility of getting stranded in Milwaukee overnight if it were snowing because Jess’ windshield wipers have been frozen to her car for a few weeks so if that wasn’t remedied and it snowed we could’ve been fucked, so I grabbed a bag and packed pajamas/meds in case we needed to drive back early tomorrow morning. Half an hour later I took the cookies out of the fridge and cut them into actual cookie pieces because it was just one giant cake like thing that had been assembled in layers and now has to be cut. The chocolate cracked a lot on top while I was cutting it despite my efforts to warm up the knife some so that wouldn’t happen, which I was semi-frustrated about but I also knew it was inevitable up to some point because these cookies just tend to be very messy and difficult to keep assembled, but overall I wasn’t that mad. I put them in two Tupperware containers, one for my fridge and one to take with me so Jess can take them to work with her tomorrow (her coworkers are definitely under the impression that we’re lesbians and this will not help that at all but it’s funny). Shortly afterwards Jess came and picked me up and we were off on our way to Milwaukee. So we made most of the drive ok, we were seeing if we could unfreeze her wipers by keeping the heat and the defroster on for the like hour we were driving up to the first Culver’s when we cross over the Wisconsin border (because cheese curds) but they were still frozen in place. So we got food/ice cream (I got ice cream and cheese curds, Jess just got cheese curds and a coke) which we ate there and talked to a few teenage employees who noticed our P!ATD shirts (that we bought yesterday) and asked if we were going to the concert. When we were ready to head out we looked up where there was like an auto shop store of some sort in the general direction we were going and headed there to see if the windshield wiper issue could be fixed. Jess’ little brother had said to get some de-icer fluid to pour over them that should help and we found that but then we talked to an employee who brought us this can of spray (which was much cheaper than a like, gallon of wiper fluid) that was for that specific purpose and had like a scraper at the end of it to assist in removing ice. So we checked out and returned to the parking lot to do this thing. We turned the car on (because heat) and started spraying it everywhere and trying to remove ice where we could. They were pretty solidly frozen so at first them were just like not moving at all but we kept spraying and trying to get them to move and idk if it was something in the spray or just like prolonged exposure to ice but both of us had like, the most painfully frozen fingers while trying to do this, like ohmygoodness it was SO BAD like my fingers have gone numb before but this was just like raw pain and SO COLD so this was truly torture but we kept spraying (and like we were wearing gloves but neither of them were waterproof because we got the same ones from forever 21 in like October when we were freezing in NYC so they were just getting wet and not helping) but we kept fucking spraying and slowly, painfully, we got the wipers free and felt very victorious and then returned to the car to drive the rest of the way and try to unfreeze our very frozen fingers which took like 20 minutes to regain full feeling in our fingers. So we drove the rest of the way to Milwaukee and to the concert venue which when then parked a bit down the street from for the venue that was $15 because the attached parking garage was $40 and we ain’t about that 😂 so we parked and walked and got on a relatively short outdoor line to go through the metal detectors and get our tickets scanned. When I got the tickets from stubhub they were like “must print! Don’t just have it on your phone!!” so I printed them and then we got there and the lady was like “do you have them on your phone? We don’t actually do printed tickets at the venue at all” and I was on top of my shit and had them pulled up on my phone (and because Jess was pestering me to have them ready to go) so we got through without issue. We were up in the nosebleed seats way at the top that had a very steep incline with concrete steps which I am so not about after watching a woman fall down such steps at my cousin’s graduation like two years ago and it was absolutely horrifying so ever since that I’ve been very paranoid about such steps so I was not happy about those but I managed to get to our seats which I was mostly okay with as long as I wasn’t looking directly down and at the stage area instead, lol. So when we got in there there was a girl with a not-excellent blonde wig on singing with two male dancers, so they did that for a while, apparently her name was Betty Who and she was Australian, to her credit she was definitely u Sent from my iPhone

so that was me getting home and emailing my draft from my notes on my phone to my laptop where I will continue typing it now. I just bought like 6 songs off iTunes that I knew but didn’t own lol because the same one is stuck in my head, but now I write. but singer lady to her credit was definitely singing live so that is good. they had a second opener then, two feet, who was fine, they were just...not P!ATD.....and that went on till like 8 so we’d been there for an hour and we’re like....can they just come out now please? but then they’re offstage for a bit and then a ten minute timer appears and that counts down to when they actually get onstage. The musicians were like on three slightly elevated squares in the back of the stage, three brass instrumentalists, a drum set, a set of stringed instruments (two violins and a cello, I believe) who were only onstage for some songs, and then there were there two guitar players (one female, which was cool) at the corners and then there was a front triangular stage area coming out from that (because it was like the symbol of their new album or some shit like that) and then finally as the timer hit zero Brendon Urie popped up to the stage from a little circular area and he like came up relatively fast and jumped as he did so it was just like he was shot out onto the stage, lol. I know they're a band and not just a singer, but he was definitely doing at least 75% of the work. There were some backup vocals from the guitarists but most of it was just him. He had really intense stamina, I know doing a tour like they’re doing takes a ton of energy and he was on top of it the whole time, and his voice was very strong, he used his falsetto a lot and there was never like, a sour note or anything (I know he was in Kinky Boots for a bit and you could tell he had a Broadway-caliber voice). But they started with the newer stuff of course some of which I knew and then brought a piano up and did Nine in the Afternoon which was fun. Then he made his way through the crowd which took like an enter song because he was stopping to hug like every person on the way and it was really cute, at one point there was apparently a nun in the audience and he was like “sister, I’m so glad you’re here!” and he found a kid at one point and talked to him for a few moments which was cute. But he eventually made his way to the back area where there was like vocal equipment and such and there was a piano, not sure if it was the same one or not, that’d been lowered down on a circular stand onto which he got and then he proceeded to play a song while they lifted the piano on the stand up into the air and flew it over the crowd all the way back to the stage and like. I was having so much secondhand anxiety watching him lol which is literally ALL PHANTOM OF THE OPERA’S FAULT because this never used to be a thing but now I’m always like “what if that falls????” and I’m not great with heights sometimes too so I was cringing a bit at that lol but it was overall very impressive. All of the music was very good, prior to when they came onstage they had passed down the row these little pink paper hearts which said on them to put over your phone light during the song “Girls/Girls/Boys” so when that came on we did it and like, whoever organized this whole thing (apparently her name is Leah, so thanks Leah) did a really fucking good job because each like second had the same color hearts but all differed from each other and then the floor seats had a bunch of random colored ones that created a very rainbow effect whereas the other seating areas were more of the blocks of color on the other LGBT flags (or that’s what I thought of it, at least). I’m pretty sure he ended up with like, three pride flags by the end of the song from the audience, he was holding one, had one on as a cape, and then had another one somewhere and like, it was honestly really touching and I was basically on the verge of tears lol it was just so sweet and well done, it was a really good moment. I was happy to see that I did recognize at least a majority of their stuff, I didn't like, follow them super closely over the years but I knew their major stuff and some of their new stuff, so I was satisfied with that, and a lot of the new stuff I’d heard around enough to have a general idea of what it was (the whole thing that started this was the song “High Hopes” because back when we were trying to win Jingle Ball tickets by calling into radio stations every single time the song they’d play to signal the time to call in was High Hopes so it kinda became our joke and then we ended up at the concert, lol). Then when the concert “ended” they of course came back for an encore, during which they sang the classic “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” which he described as “the song that started it all” for them and they had like shots from the music video on the screens at the back of the stage which was definitely a blast from the past lol but it was very fulfilling to see in concert all these years later. He was saying that he’s pretty much been doing this for 15 years now since he was 17 and just like how thankful he is for all his fans that come out and make all this possible and I was feeling very soft about all of it, lol. But yeah, I think that’s the highlights, the whole thing was really very good and I enjoyed it a lot. Once it ended for real we headed out, we were both thirsty but of course all the food vendors had closed up by then and we opted to skip the very long bathroom line on the thought that we’d hit up a gas station or mcdonalds once we get on the freeway. We managed to find the back staircase which was much less crowded than the escalators/main stairs so we managed to make it down relatively quickly. Walked back to the parking garage and made it to the car, only to be stuck in a very long line to check out because the people running the parking garage decided to have people pay going out instead of coming in, and then we discovered they were only accepting card and not cash, so this all resulted in a very, very long and slow moving line that spanned several floors of the parking garage and we had to have spent a solid 25 minutes waiting to get out of the damn place, and Jess was getting nauseous at this point so we just really wanted to get out of there. We finally made it to the front and had to scramble to get a card instead of the exact change we had ready for them in cash 🙄 but then at least we were free and got to the freeway relatively quickly. It had started to snow at this point so visibility in general and especially seeing the lane dividers on the road were getting very difficult to see and like I’ve dealt with that before driving and it’s really fucking scary so Jess was definitely starting to panic, at one point we tried to pull off and run to a gas station but the road was like that we couldn't get to the damn thing from where we were and she was just so anxious at this point we said fuck it and just powered the way through the rest of the way home. Once we got off the freeway the visibility was a lot better since there are like, streetlights and shit, so we could relax a bit after that. But yeah, made it the rest of the way home, Jess dropped me off and I got inside my apartment, changed into my pajamas and then continued writing this and now I am here. It’s just past 2 am but I didn’t take my meds until like 30-ish minutes ago so they’re just really starting to kick in now. I should probably at least try to go to sleep though, not that I have anything in particular I have to do tomorrow but staying up too late is never really a good idea, so I’m going to attempt to go to sleep now, we’ll see how that goes. Goodnight loves. Hope your Monday doesn’t suck.

[fffinnagain]

Lost Works and Posting Rates on fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own

Recently, I posted an analysis of these two large fanfiction archives using work numbers (nodes) to get a sense of how active they have been over the years. Investigations since I’ve discovered how different these node counts are from the works CURRENTLY available in these archives.

In Red and Green above are the number of nodes assigned per month in each archive, going back to 2001 for Fanfiction.net and to AO3’s beginning in 2009. These nodes are assigned to each new work, or (on AO3) each new saved draft on the archive. The Blue and Yellow are estimates of the works currently in each archive from these past times, hence, works surviving.

Not only is the gap between Nodes and Surviving Works very big, it is shaped totally different for these two archives. To see this directly, here is the percentage of nodes with works currently in the archives, by month.

If we are going to compare fan activity on these archives from these data, Nodes and Current works, we need to get a better sense of what is going on. Below I get into the details of where these numbers come from, their historical context, and justify my interpretations, but here are the main points fanfiction readers might want to know:

Fanfiction.net has lost a lot of posted works over the years, up to 70% of those posted before 2003.

The proportion of works removed from fanfiction.net has gone down to ~20% since 2016

While some loss of works is to be expected, this amount of works removed over time suggests active curation by the FFN community and staff.

On AO3, the proportion works removed, or drafted but never posted is probably around 20%.

AO3 has a spam problem, with non-fan agents flooding the archives with fake works.

AO3 outpaced FFN in terms of works being posted to these archives in 2015 (as suggested in previous analysis) in the middle of messy part of the plot at the top.

In 2019, AO3 could reach FFN’s past peak posting rate of ~3500 fanworks per day.

So where are all the fanworks? 

Did they disapeare or did they never exist in the first place?

Find out under the read more, where I also explain these numbers, how I reached these conclusions, and some historical explanations for the changes over time.

I’ll also try to add corrections there, if new information comes to light.

Where did the fanworks go?

On FFN, my best guess is that the gap is from works being deleted from the archive.

On AO3, some part is from deleted works, another is from drafts never posted, but most of the empty nodes never held fanworks at all.

To explain my reasoning, I need to get deeper into the details of how these archives have operated since their inception.

So first what are NODES: every work on either archive (or any archive) is assigned a unique number or node. In both AO3 and FFN, they manage this by giving out numbers successively. This means works posted this year have larger numbers than works posted a year before, and so on.

The way nodes are assigned is a clue to the number of works posted to the archive from any given past time, but it certainly isn’t the same as the works CURRENTLY available on these archives. If you check on a random node on either archive (ex: FFN node 1044532  AO3 node 10906586), there is a good chance you won’t find any transformative works. The graph above says the same.

Why are works removed from any fanwork archive?

Without considering specifics, there are lots of reasons for works to be removed from these archives. A work could be deleted because:

It’s actually spam, completely unrelated to the archive’s purpose.

It’s inappropriate content, according to the current terms of the archive.

It’s deleted by the creator for their own personal reasons.

It’s deleted when the creator leaves or is removed from the archive.

It also happens that the structure of the archives may skip nodes. In early 2014, AO3 changed its server structure and now two work numbers are discarded for every one assigned (I’ve compensated for this in my past analyses and most graphs here). As far as I know, there is nothing similar in FFN. Instead the gap between nodes assigned and works surviving is steadily around 1000 a day from 2003 to 2015. This consistency in the rate of works removed suggest that the process of removing works wasn’t set by the number of works posted, but rather defined by the resources available to do the database curation. 

Fanfiction.net and the Missing Works

A warning: My interpretation of fanfiction.net’s situation is mostly inductive, connecting the behaviour of these time series, direct experience with the archive interface, and historical accounts. This hasn’t been confirmed or addressed by anyone inside the organisation.  

So, I bet that the vast majority of nodes on FFN were once published fanworks. FFN doesn’t assign nodes until the creator clicks publish, and the website includes a few technical tricks to make it harder this to be abused, such as a Captcha check (at present). I’ve heard complaints about how awkward it is to post on fanfiction.net but those extra steps are excellent protections from anyone who isn’t really invested in sharing fanworks. (If anyone knows of past changes in this posting process, I’d love to hear about them!) Looking at average number of nodes assigned per day (below), there doesn’t seem to have been any big changes that would mark a sudden increase or decrease in spam postings. At least not since 2003.

But this means that the number of Nodes assigned per month is pretty close to the actual numbers of fanworks posted to the site for people to read. It is the closest I can get to the legit rate of works published to FFN (rather than currently on.) (Note: L'étude fanfiction.net also used node numbers in this same way.)

Here the fanfiction.net numbers from that first plot, presented on their own, specifically the number of nodes assigned per month (proxy for works published) and the estimated number of works currently available from these times past (+/- standard error). The gap between nodes assigned and works surviving on the archive is HUGE! I was shocked looking at this and double checked my work, but, yeah, that’s it.

Again focusing just on fanfiction.net, this is a plot of the PROPORTION of nodes assigned per month with works currently attached, our fanwork suvival rate. These precise numbers are estimates of the number of works on the archive, measured through random sampling. Scroll way down to the end of this post for details.

From later analysis, I’d suppose at less than 10% of works eventually get pulled by creators for reasons unrelated to archive policy. But as far as I can tell, up to 40% of all works posted to the Fanfiction.net have been removed, with a loss of more than 50% in the years before 2008, and up to 70% before 2003. How did that happen?

FFN has been around for quite a while, in internet time. It’s been open to users to post fanfiction since 1998 but what can be posted has changed over the years. New terms of service, categories of works, and purges of “inappropriate” content has resulted in a few waves of works being removed and the consequences of those changes are striking.

In October 2002, the archive removed all works rated NC-17 and those identifiably about Real Persons (RPS/RPF). From my present standpoint, I can’t evaluate precisely the number of works lost with this particular action, but the huge proportion of works removed from the begining of 2002 to the terminal date is a spectacular 70% (30% surviving). In absolute numbers, the nodes assigned around this time seems to be very large compared to the time preceeding it (preceeding plot, before 2002). Besides works being deleted, I wonder if some extra nodes may have been generated for the reposting of works, moved by users or the archive to new categories (or ratings).

The changes in October 2002 were momentus but the proportion of published works being removed continues to be very high for a while yet. It’s still around 50% in 2008, and gradually falls as we get closer to the present. From the information available, there doesn’t look to be big changes to the ratio, like new spam filtering or big automated deletions. And rather than a steady ratio of works being removed, there is a fairly consistent number of culled nodes, around 20 000 to 25 000 per month from 2003 to 2012. This suggests a sustained (and distributed) process of reporting and removing smaller sets of inappropriate fanworks. Stories abound of fans taking it upon themselves to report works that went against the rules in various fandoms and the losses were felt by many.

Another notable purge of content happened in 2012, with a focus on explicit content around the time that fanfiction.net changed its signup conditions to welcome minors. One fan calculated a loss of 0.4% of works over two days in some fandoms, but the efforts to scrub the archive must have extended well beyond that.

Instead of a massive automated lose of fanworks like in 2002, this change in policy coincides with a turning point in fanfiction.net’s popularity. Looking back at the average daily posting rates, the years of steading increases in node assigements begin to slow in 2012, decelerating much faster than it had been accelerating before. This change was much more palpable in some fandoms than others, but overall, the story looks like many long time fans moving to build communities and collections elsewhere. If those who left were mostly fans who wanted to post works outside of the archive’s rules, that could also account for the proportional decrease in works being removed for content reasons since.

Some creators leave by never updating again. Others leave and delete their accounts, removing all of their past work in the process. [C&C 2.] The total works removed in substantial, but the loss is nearly always a gradual erosion of works recent and old from many individual decisions by users and staff.

While these graphs show the archive slowing down when compared to it’s heyday, this doesn’t mean fanfiction.net is dead, far from it. FFN is very active for many groups playing (more or less) within the terms of service. Current posting rates of 1000 new works a day is substantial and the support from their employees surely is appreciated by many fans and fandoms still. But hopefully they won’t need to challenge their users again with new rules any time soon.

Archive of Our Own and the Pains of Rapid Growth

The history of Archive of Our Own is a bit easier to tell because it’s not as long and I’ve gotten great insight and numbers from @zz9pzza, a very kind volunteer working on the backend of the archive. Between those numbers (download and play with the csv files yourself!) and a few funny techniques, we see a completely different archive story. 

Looking only at the figure above, AO3’s nodes assigned and works published by month, we get a very clear trend coming through: the numbers are very close together in the early years, but then more work is getting deleted as the archive rate of new works grows. The difference is bigger than proportional growth so there is some kind of change in type of activity on the achive over time.

I should explain the two lines for AO3 works: In grey is an accurate count of works by publication date in 2017-10-04. But AO3 allows people to backdate works, so this count includes fanfiction that was actually added some time later. Without knowing how many works have been backdated, we can’t tell if this is convering up substantial work attrition. Instead of just trusting these counts, I sampled the archive to estimate surviving works as well (in magenta), and the difference is nearly always within standard error. This suggests that only a small proportion of the archive is backdated works, like less than 4%, and the impact is distributed widely.

While we are looking at this graph, I want to draw attention to just how linear AO3’s grow continues to be, nearly constant acceleration under seasonal bumps and shifts. (If anything it is growing fasted than linear.) At this rate, AO3 will be acquiring 100 000 published works a month, 100 000 real publicly accessible fanworks, by 2019.

But back to the question of missing fanworks. This figure reports the estimated ratio of nodes with works surviving from 2010. Conversely, the proportion of nodes without works increases with time, opposite to the story at FFN. A small proportion (20%) of possible works are missing from the early years, growing slowly to around 30% in 2015. The standard error estimates for these values gets very large with the server change in 2014, but even allowing for that uncertaintly, the proportion of nodes with works becomes very erratic in the last few years.

Also on this plot is the ratio of works listed to nodes assigned in grey. That this line is so close to the number of nodes remaining suggests that backdated works aren’t covering up all that much.

On AO3, some proportion of the nodes NEVER had works published on them. A unique node is assigned to save drafts as well as to published posts, so pieces that languished in users’ draft files on AO3 add to these counts. I have no idea how many drafts are never posted, but I’m willing to bet that it is a) more than total number of works users delete for their own reasons and b) the proportion of nodes stuck on unpublished drafts will be constant to the number of works published. From the above, that means that less than 20% of nodes are assigned to drafts that never get published. Maybe it’s 5%, maybe it’s 15%, I don’t know.

Now, AO3 is famously permissive about what can get posted there because it was constructed to welcome a lot of the fanfiction that was too controversial for the commercial archives. The terms of the website sets some practical limits on what is considered a transformative work and what creators can say around the pieces posted, but it is consistently (and controversially) resistent to the purges that cut so much material from fanfiction.net. Add the right tags and your fanwork is not going to be cut because of the type of mature content or the commercial property it was derived from.

So what is being deleted from the archive? A small number are removed because of content restrictions, some are taken off by the creator for personal reasons, but most of the stuff removed is spam. Posts like this:

AO3 users and volunteers are reporting this non-fandom stuff so it can be removed whenever possible, but as we can see from the plot above, this problem is getting worse. On top of the contributions by dewdrop495 and their compatriots, the messiness of the works to nodes ratio in the last few years is also due to the occasional bot infestations. That’s why there are spikes in the nodes counts at odd times. It’s activity that has nothing to do with fans sharing fanworks. Compared to FFN, it’s really easy to spam AO3 once you are logged in. And as the archive gets more popular, more efforts are made to post irrelevant material. Regular users of AO3 will have seen some recent alerts as the volunteers try to handle this kind of abuse of the archive. [C&C 1.]

Works removed from an archive do not get cut the moment they are put online. Whether spam, content, or creator discontent, it takes time and opportunity for works to be removed. By subtracting the accurate current works published last April from last September, we can see the proportional attrition of works from times past from AO3.

The number of published works removed from AO3 is not trivial: we see up to 5% loss in only half a year for recently published works. If spam levels stay constant (ha) we would expect around 15% of published works to be removed over the long haul. Without spam this would be less, but there will always be some loss. Looking further back, to times when spam wasn’t so much of a problem, we see a total loss of 3-4% of works no longer in the spot light.

Looking back at the early days of AO3, when only 20% of nodes were without published works (see figure: AO3, % Nodes…), we can guess that between 10 and 15% of works started do not get published, and 5 to 10% of non-spam works published are removed for archive and creator reasons.

AO3 vs fanfiction.net

All this work started when I wanted to know how many works were being posted at any given time on either archive. Like, without the noise of spam and before anyone might delete their works. The nodes assigned might satisfy for FFN, but for AO3, we can’t get much closer than knowing the rate of fanworks being posted to AO3 is somewhere between the light blue and magenta lines in the figure below.

This figure shows the average rates per day of nodes assigned and works existing. The real fannish activity is somewhere between these lines, but the analysis above suggests that for FFN, its the same or very close to the nodes assigned (Brown Trend line)), while on AO3, it is closer to the works currently available. A conservative estimate would be 5% to 15% higher, depending on if you count lost drafts (purple Trend line). Note: These trendlines are just eyeballed with all this ambiguity in mind and not calculated with precise error estimates.

This puts the crossing point on posting rates in late 2015. A few other points can be made from this plot of archive activity over time:

AO3 is growing faster than FFN did: annual increases of ~350 published works per day vs ~290 per day

The deceleration of FFN posting rates is stablising, both in Nodes accumulated and works surviving.

AO3 will reach peak FFN daily posting rates in early 2019

Before you go, I want to encourage everyone to take a moment to recognised all the work put in by volunteers and staff to maintain these archives. The specifics of their efforts depends on where they are, but it’s a real struggle to keep up with the flow of new fan produced content and the other stuff that gets posted. These sites are so important to our fandom communities and I wish them all the best.

Where do these numbers come from

Nodes Per Month: The nodes are sampled from a database of Harry Potter fanfiction metadata from each archive. I scraped the data, took the earliest work from each month (or thereabouts) and took the difference to track how nodes had accumulated over each interval of time. For all the node work I’m exploiting a key fact that these numbers are assigned consequetively.

Getting the number of nodes assigned per month or day is easy with FFN data as they are handed out, one by one, and only as works are first published online. AO3’s structure is more of a challenge. For one, the backdating of works interferes makes it likely for works in the early years to actually have much later node values, for any other, the changes in counting process and occassional bot infestation obfuscate the regular process growth process. To compensate, I took the median node value for single chapter works listed as published from ides-to-ides (:P) of adjacent months, which produced something close to the begining of the relevant month, and divided the differences when appropriate to estimate work numbers assigned rather than absolute node numbers.

The surviving works estimate come from random sampling of the archives to check if works existed. I randomly sampled 100 work node pages from each month to see if they returned errors pages or fanworks. This gives an estimate of the ratio of nodes with surviving works, along with standard error range for these binomial stats.

Both sets of counts of currently listed works by date of publication are directly from AO3, courtesy of @zz9pzza. The numbers are all to be posted on fandomstats.org so that you can play with them too. 

@zz9pzza was also generous with insights and pointed out the example of spam which has since been removed. 

A number of folks shared their experiences of having works removed from these sites. I couldn’t report on all that at the same time as get the numbers down, but I hope a few more stories will be called forth by this analysis. I also learned a lot of the chronology and related analyses by digging through fanlore, so thanks, @otw-fanlore!

And a final cheers to @destinationtoast for feedback on this post. Yes it could have been worse :P

CAVEATS and CORRECTIONS

AO3 has a highly reliable automatic SPAM detector (99.3% accuracy), and they have (just) implemented new methods to suppress Sports stream related SPAM posts. (Thanks for the announcement, @ao3org)

Apparently fanfiction.net doesn’t let you delete your account. By the ToS (7) they can remove accounts, but we can’t do it ourselves. Anyone can still manually remove their own works, but that is as close as one can get to leaving without being kicked off the site.  (thanks @kagenoneko!)

Somehow, I just found this post by the FFN stats blog about the number of works and posting rates from 2010! I haven’t gone through to reconcile our results, but it does report that at that time only 53% of postings (nodes) were still accessible works at that time.

[artificialqueens]

everything’s different and nothing has changed (trixya) — dylann

Trixie wants this part to be over. The part of returning where he relearns how to move when no one is watching, where no one’s expecting him to provide quippy commentary about anything, where he could literally do anything and it wouldn’t matter is terrifying, somehow.

A/N: this is a post-as3 reunion fic based on a prompt i got from an anon (“give us the post-as3 reunion we all deserve. katya is out here being messy and i need it”) i don’t know if i delivered on the katya being messy front, but feelings are involved and those are definitely messy.

not an established relationship but there’s definitely an agreement in place. i use drag names and he/him pronouns for both throughout.

shoutout to dare for getting me to try my hand at trixya (and fixing all of my prepositions) xo

content warning for alcohol and some mildly explicit content

It ends as quietly as it began, with Trixie standing on the sidewalk, all of his best drag stuffed into three suitcases and a few duffel bags beside him. There’s a car on the way, his phone’s in the pocket of his worn jeans, and there isn’t a single camera around.

It’s a little after 10 pm, and the air is heavy and suffocating in a way only LA air can be in late August. Trixie is a year older, and done, and the world around him doesn’t seem any different.

He’d spent the past few weeks drafting texts to Katya (mentally, mostly, but sometimes also literally, jokes scribbled among rushed sketches and stray lyrics), and now that he’s back out in the real world, none of them seem right.

Trixie wants this part to be over. The part of returning where he relearns how to move when no one is watching, where no one’s expecting him to provide quippy commentary about anything, where he could literally do anything and it wouldn’t matter is terrifying, somehow.

It’s like the first day of school after summer break: everything and everyone is the same, supposedly, except they’re not, they haven’t seen each other in months and a summer changes people. It’s a chunky metaphor but Trixie is so tired, and it makes enough sense.

He pulls his phone out and glances at the time. The car was supposed to be here nearly ten minutes ago. There are no new notifications since he turned the phone on an hour ago. Then, there’d been too many emails and twice as many tweets, and he’d marked everything as “read” without really looking at any of it. There’s been nothing since, and that shouldn’t feel as disappointing as it, surprisingly, does.

No one knows that he’s out. No one knows that it’s over.

His finger hovers over the green Messages icon when the phone vibrates and a notification (Arriving Soon: Jake is arriving soon in a Toyota Camry) so Trixie looks up and watches the car pull up.

Jake greets him quickly and steps outside to help him load all of his bags in the trunk.

“Long day at work?” the driver prompts as Trixie gets inside the car and clips his seatbelt on.

“Kind of.”

The man offers a sympathetic smile in the rear view mirror. Trixie nods and looks down at his phone, typing and sending a text before he really has time to rethink or edit.

To: Katya 🚬👵🏼 (10:21:07pm) my uber driver’s kinda cute

***

Trixie’s apartment is even quieter than the street when he unlocks the door, props it open with one of the smaller bags, and drags the first suitcase in.

The lights are off and the street lamp light that filters through the window on the far end of the living room casts strange shadows on the furniture. It all looks as if someone snuck in and changed the layout of the room just enough to make it unnerving. Trixie drags the second suitcase in and reaches over to flick the lights on.

In the warm light that floods the space, it looks more like the room Trixie knows well enough that he could give the world’s most underwhelming museum tour: here’s the scratch in the hardwood floor where the legendary Trixie Mattel tried to move a couch on her own, here’s the burn mark on the coffee table where she left a curling iron unattended a moment too long, the curtain rod that’s holding on entirely on regular prayer and balled up gaff tape.

It’s home, and he’s there, and nothing’s changed.

Trixie hauls the rest of the bags in and closes the door. His hand lingers on the doorknob as he exhales a slow, steadying breath and reaches his free hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. His body feels heavy and uncomfortably hot and he wants to sit down for a year.

“Jesus, come on,” he whispers, because he’s the kind of person who talks to himself now, apparently, and pushes himself away from the door.

Trixie leaves the bags pushed up neatly against the wall and then turns the TV on, walks over to open the window, lights a candle on the coffee table, paces until the shadows in the corners of the room soften. It’s home now, and not the twisted Coraline clone version of it from half an hour ago.

He showers and changes into the oldest pair of sweatpants he owns and a faded black t-shirt he doesn’t remember buying. He ends up back in the living room where his phone has been abandoned, screen-side down, since he came home. Trixie settles in the corner of the couch and finally picks it up. It lights up to show the time — just past midnight — and no new notifications.

This time, he rests his thumb on the home button and unlocks the phone, pulling up his messages again. Maybe the text didn’t send, or he somehow missed a notification, or—

He glances down and his stomach turns a little. (The last time Trixie ate was brunch, standing up near a craft services table, and that feels like half a lifetime ago. He should probably do something about that, too.)

Since the last time he checked, the small gray text underneath his message has gone from “Delivered” to “Read 11:27pm”, and then there’s nothing.

The candle on the table wavers as the slightest hint of a merciful late night wind blows in from outside. It smells heavy, oak and mahogany, and he can practically hear Courtney lecturing him about how that’s not a summer scent at all but it’s comforting so he closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

Katya’s not the best at texting. He texts in full, grammatically correct sentences, no emoji, and will usually give up and call when he gets a thought that’s too long to type out or a joke which just has to be delivered a certain way. Sometimes, he opens his texts, glances at them too quickly to even skim through, and clicks out of the app. Trixie’s watched him do that too many times to begin counting.

So maybe that’s what happened. Or maybe he’s working, or he’s with people, or he’s busy, or he just didn’t know what to say.

A slightly manic part of Trixie’s mind clings to the latter, the chance that Katya just didn’t have an answer, that maybe he didn’t spend weeks and weeks drafting the perfect return text, that maybe—

“Shut the fuck up.”

Trixie’s voice comes out loud enough to surprise him as he speaks into the empty room. The train of thought derails and crashes somewhere beyond his own comprehension and he closes his eyes to imagine it burning because fuck this. He knows Katya too well to let himself consider that. It feels unfair to Katya, almost like a betrayal, that his mind would even come up with any of this at all.

The train still burning in the back of his mind, Trixie gets up and fixes himself a drink because being home means he gets to do that, and it can be plain vodka on the rocks and not some watered down cocktail which looks good on camera and leads to the sharpest headaches.

He brings the bottle back to the coffee table, just in case, and settles with a cushion in his lap to watch whatever episode of Snapped is flashing blurry black-and-white photos of a crime scene on TV.

Trixie’s halfway through his second glass when he solves the case before any of the detectives on the screen do. They’re looking at a college roommate.

“It’s clearly the ex,” he says to no one in particular, waving his free hand distractedly at the TV. “Why would he call her three days after her birthday if he didn’t have some unfinished business with her? It’s in the phone records, Jennifer—“

The doorbell rings, inappropriately loud for this time of night. It startles Trixie and he jumps a little, sending vodka splashing over his wrist and dripping onto the cushion. It takes a second to register that he should probably do something about the doorbell and he hasn’t moved when it rings again, three short buzzes telegraphing insistent anxiety.

Trixie scrambles up and walks over to the door with the drink in his hand and the damp cushion tucked under his arm. The peephole has been cracked and speckled with paint for probably decades before he’d moved in, so Trixie just accepts that murder is a very real possibility, and cracks the door open instead.

Katya’s out of breath but smiling, his arms dangling awkwardly at his sides like he wanted to look casual and couldn’t quite remember how to pull it off.

Trixie lets the door swing open all the way as he steps out, wordlessly finding his way into Katya’s arms. The hand that’s not holding a glass presses firmly against Katya’s back right where his ribcage is tangible under the thin cotton of his shirt. Trixie is vaguely aware that he drops the cushion along the way.

He closes his eyes and breathes — sharp, deep breaths as Katya pulls him in closer and holds him tightly, his nose pressed against the short hair on the side of Trixie’s head.

“You bitch,” Trixie starts finally, when he feels steady and trusts his voice.

“I wanted to say hi in person—“

“You absolute whore, I was so worried—“

“Shh. Shut up for half a second,” Katya cuts him off mid-rant and Trixie lets out a breathy laugh as he pulls back just enough to catch his eyes. Katya grins, toothy and wide, and says quietly,

“Hi. Welcome back.”

And Trixie isn’t mad at him for ignoring his text and making him wait anymore because Katya’s beaming at him and it’s worth it.

“Come in, they’re just about to arrest the ex boyfriend,” Trixie says once he realizes that they’re still at the door, and practically out in the hallway.

Katya follows him into the living room, picking up the cushion as he goes.

“Love the mood lighting.”

“I like to create the illusion that I wasn’t watching true crime by myself through candles that smell like men,” Trixie shrugs and Katya cackles and follows immediately with,

“That candle wears an expensive watch and starts ghosting you after the third date.”

Trixie laughs and watches Katya sit down on the couch like he’s in his own living room, humming judgmentally as he flicks the TV off.

“—which is a pity because the one time you fucked in his car it was actually pretty good,” Trixie continues, which gets Katya to hold up a hand to his chest, clutching invisible pearls as he howls with laughter.

“…even though the leather interior sticks to your ass and gives you a really gross rash,” Trixie finishes, and Katya’s doubled over his own knees, laughing hard enough that he snorts gracelessly when he gasps for air.

It’s easy and quick, and Trixie’s heart settles a little as he realizes that this part hasn’t changed, that thankfully, it doesn’t feel off-kilter and unfamiliar the way his apartment had when he came back. They’ve been away from each other too many times for that to be a surprise but this is different, somehow. The room seems cozier with Katya in the center of it, laughing on the couch.

The laughter dies down gradually and fades into a comfortable silence. Trixie is, for some reason, still standing, like an anxious host who isn’t sure if sitting down would be polite just yet.

Katya looks up at him, and then his eyes trail past Trixie and land on the bags by the door.

The silence shifts, now thick like electricity in the air before a storm, like the second of anticipation before a roller coaster drop.

It’s Katya who breaks it. He looks back at Trixie and prompts,

“So?”

Trixie tucks his chin down and glances at the floor. His teeth worry his bottom lip and there are uneasy lines creasing his forehead when he blinks back up at Katya.

Katya, on the other hand, keeps his face almost entirely neutral, except his eyes widen a little (that’s shock), and then narrow (that’s anger), and then the corners of his mouth twitch dangerously (Trixie’s learned that’s outrage),

and it all takes a split second because then Trixie exhales, pushing all of the air out of his lungs, and presses his eyes shut as he nods affirmatively to answer the initial question.

Katya’s face shifts. The lines of it soften and his eyes go wide, and he’s trying not to smile as he rises from his spot on the couch,

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It hits Trixie then, when Katya launches himself at him and envelops him in his arms, and he sob-laughs into Katya’s neck and Katya just holds him tighter and tighter and laughs along with him.

“I told you,” Katya whispers finally, and it comes out shaky but Trixie is crying onto his t-shirt so maybe that’s okay. “I knew it, of course I did, I knew it but— Fuck, it feels fucking good to be right.”

Trixie laughs helplessly and pulls back a little.

“I’m so proud of you,” Katya says, low and private, catching Trixie’s eyes and staring directly at them the way he does when he really, really means business. “No one deserves this more than you do.”

Trixie sniffles as he laughs again. Later, he’s going to have wrapped his mind around it, and he’ll tell Katya just how much this is because of him, because of how they’ve built each other up, because of how fiercely Katya has believed in him and his fantasy that entire time.

Now, the thought of all of that just chokes him up again and Katya’s kissing his forehead as he cries and whispers Thank you, seriously, Katya, thank you thank you thank you.

Katya doesn’t move until the shared sound of wet, tearful laughter fades into another near-perfect silence. His lips are steady against Trixie’s forehead, not quite a kiss now as much as a solid, constant presence, and Trixie feels like his heart might burst open if it lasts a second longer.

He tilts his chin up carefully right as Katya starts to pull away, and their noses bump against each other. The room’s gone terribly quiet; the low murmur of the street feels like it’s coming from some other world.

The soft, dim light from the candle lands at the high point of Katya’s cheekbone and Trixie reaches up distractedly, traces his thumb along the line where that spot of light fades into shadow. Katya watches him silently, intently, his breath coming out hot and shaky against Trixie’s knuckles.

Trixie’s mouth has gone dry.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says, and it comes out in a quiet rasp. “If you don’t mind.”

Katya’s cheek shifts under his thumb as he exhales one beat of a laugh and moves his head in the slightest of nods.

Trixie’s eyes fall shut. He drops his hand from Katya’s face to the back of his neck and tugs him closer, and when Katya’s lips hit his, it’s urgent but soft and for the second time in about twelve hours, Trixie wonders fleetingly if it’s possible to pass out from sheer joy.

Katya has a steady hand at the small of his back and he uses that to steer Trixie over to the couch, not once breaking the kiss for anything longer than one breath.

Trixie moves to sit and Katya follows him down until he’s straddling him, and Trixie cranes his neck up as he chases a deeper kiss. Katya lets his hands drop and slips cool fingertips under the hem of Trixie’s t-shirt. His light touch draws a gasp from Trixie and when he presses harder, Trixie groans into his mouth and drives his hips up.

Katya responds in a low sigh and Trixie reaches up, pressing his dull, short nails at the back of Katya’s head as he runs his teeth lightly over Katya’s bottom lip and then slips his tongue into his mouth.

Katya grinds down in one sharp motion and this time Trixie curses under his breath in response. He’s half hard in his threadbare sweatpants and his head is swimming.

This isn’t the first time this has happened but it’s the first time in a really long time, the first time since the night-long conversations and the agreements and the we can’ts and we shouldn’ts. The thought occurs to him distantly while Katya kisses the juncture of his jaw and his neck, open-mouthed and hot.

“Katya,” he whispers and Katya hums noncommittally in response as he licks his way down Trixie’s neck. “Katya.”

Trixie’s insistent the second time and Katya draws back and looks down at him, and his eyes are dark and wide and it takes Trixie a second to recollect his thoughts.

“Can we?” he whispers finally, because he has to hear it, because Katya could say no and pull away now and it’d be okay, because it’s been both and neither and Trixie needs to know where they stand.

“Rumor on the street is,” Katya starts lightly, arching down to kiss him. “according to recent events,” another kiss, “you can do anything.”

He delivers the last word in a dramatic whisper, and it’s the cheesiest line Trixie’s heard in years and his entire chest hurts as he laughs.

“You’re terrible,” he whispers, and it sounds like anything but. “I changed my mind, I don’t even want to—“

“And that’s okay,” Katya lets his voice drop to a murmur as he speaks just close enough to Trixie’s lips that they almost touch. “But we can. If you wanted to.”

Trixie exhales another laugh, relieved this time, and is still laughing when Katya claims another kiss.

“We should move,” Trixie whispers.

Katya nods and pulls back surprisingly quickly, with the energy of a man driven by pure enthusiasm.

“Hold on— not trying to start a fire,” Trixie says, and bends down to blow the candle out.

Katya has crossed the small distance to the bedroom door already.

“Hey, Tracy,” he calls quietly as the candle goes out.

Trixie looks up. There’s dim light coming through the bedroom window and Katya’s a dark silhouette against the frame of the open door and somehow, even the blurry outline of his figure is beautiful.

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday.”

[happy2bmyownboss]

This post actually started out as a different post but it got so long that I broke it down and decided to share this part of it with you today!

Things have been SO CRAZY BUSY here lately… I can’t tell you about everything we’ve been up to but I will let you know about a few things we have been doing down below. We are so excited about EVERYTHING that is going on and we just can’t wait to SPILL THE BEANS with EVERYONE!

For now, though I’ll tell you about some of our latest adventures here in our little cabin.

A trip to the movies

We took them ALL to see the new Lion King and it was so GOOD! My oldest son was a HUGE Lion King fan when he was little… and I believe he may still be very partial to the original but my younger kids only knew about the new Disney version of the series.

Here’s a trailer for it if you haven’t seen it yet:

I absolutely loved this new version of the original movie. Everything was so real and even though it was pretty much just a remake of the original it just seemed so much better! If you haven’t been to see it then you really should put this on your To-Do list… I know I’ll be buying the DVD as soon as I can as this is one movie that I will definitely watch again which is saying a lot as I am not a fan of reruns.

They had previews for a couple of other movies like Playing with Fire, Mulan, and the Maleficent that we want to see as well. Going to the movies with this crowd can get rather expensive so we only treat ourselves to this every now and then.

**This post does contain affiliate links to products and/or services that we use. If you happen to click through a link and make a purchase we may earn a teensy-weensy small commission (at NO EXTRA cost to you) if a purchase is made through these links. These links help to support our family, our blog, and our homeschooling mission. This means that we can keep bringing you great recipes, ideas, and tips for FREE! Click HERE for a full disclaimer.

 –Thank you!

A birthday in the house

We also had a birthday in the cabin this week. Monday was Ms. Comet’s first birthday! The only reason we actually know this is because she was actually born at the shelter that we adopted her from back in February.

Her adoption was quite an interesting story and honestly if I had known we would still be in this little cabin right now I probably wouldn’t have even considered adopting her but thank heavens for the things we don’t know!

I think her adoption story post may actually be stuck in my Drafts so I’ll try to check that out soon!

Homeschool Adventures

We also just finished up our ‘On the Banks of Plum Creek Adventure‘ and the kids have been begging to get started on the next one. The only problem is that I haven’t had a chance to get it finished yet… I actually haven’t even started it. I guess we all know what I’ll be busy working on this weekend so be prepared to be inundated with Little House posts in the upcoming weeks!

Dentist Appointments, Bread Store, and New Glasses

The kids also had a couple of dentist appointments this week. I went ahead and just scheduled an ‘Errand Day‘ into our homeschool week. This is so easy to do when we use the Homeschool Manager app!

We went to the dentist which ended up taking a little longer than normal. Then we made a trip to the bread store where we stocked up on some of our favorite treats… not THM approved but I think a little treat every now and then will be OK. An added bonus is that they offer an additional 20% off on Wednesdays! Whoo-hoo!

After the bread store, we headed in the other direction to pick up some new glasses for Ms. Caitlyn. I probably drove more yesterday than I have in the past two months!

Don’t her glasses make her look so grown up?

Chat with Grandma

On the way home, we called Grandma and chatted with her for a bit. We filled her in on some of the things that have been happening and updated her on the progress of our ‘special project’ that we hope to reveal very soon!

We also chatted about some of my latest cleaning accomplishments with our new products.

Cleaning with Norwex

As many of you know I recently signed up to be an Independent Sales Consultant with Norwex. I can’t even begin to tell you how much we LOVE these products and I can’t even being to describe the difference they have made in lives.

I’ve been a little LAZY lately when it comes to my housekeeping… we keep everything fairly clean but there are cobwebs here and there and our house probably wouldn’t come close to passing a white glove test but thanks to Norwex that may soon change!

One of the first areas I tackled was our messy 15 passenger van, if you follow me on Facebook then you’ve probably already seen some of the pics but here are the results:

  We also tackled a few areas in the house:

Yesterday after we got home I tackled a couple more places:

Jacob helped me with the bathroom cleaning and really wanted to make a YouTube video about it but I just wasn’t feeling it yesterday… that kid is determined to be a YouTube star!

All of this with mostly just a rag and water! AMAZING!!! I also cut one of the dish rags in half and gave it to Ms. Caitlyn to start using for dishes… she seemed excited to be the first to use something. Anything I can do to motivate them to do chores is a WIN!

Anyways, it’s about time for me to get these kiddos started on some school work and I need to go pull some chicken out for dinner tonight. I think we are going to make some breaded chicken and serve it with some Super Yummy Caulitaters and Oven Roasted Green Beans. Oh my gosh! I’m making myself hungry just thinking about it…

I hope everyone has a wonderfully blessed day and I really hope that I can let this cat out the bag soon!

Check out the new products HERE.

Life Update: Dentist Appointments, Bread Store, and New Glasses This post actually started out as a different post but it got so long that I broke it down and decided to share this part of it with you today!

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Political Confessional, a column about the views that Americans are scared to share with their friends and neighbors. In an increasingly polarized political climate, adherence to party or ideological orthodoxy on the issues of the day seems de rigueur. Social media serves only to amplify that perception at times. But Americans’ political views are often idiosyncratic and sometimes offensive, and they rarely adhere neatly to any particular party line. In this column, we want to dig into Americans’ messy opinions on politics, morality and social mores. We hope that this exercise gives readers a glimpse into the minds of those with whom they might disagree — or agree! If you have a political belief that you’re willing to share with us, fill out this form — we might get in touch.

This week we talked to Chris, a 40 year old white man from Tennessee who works as a higher education administrator. Chris wrote, “I believe the United States should implement mandatory military service for all young men and women. Many people believe the end of conscription was a great accomplishment in this country. The people around me (mostly left leaning) think this is an inherently hawkish position that makes war more likely.”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Clare Malone: So, how did you come to this view?

Chris: I have not served in the military. When I graduated from college in 2000 the world was at peace, the economy was booming, and we had won the Cold War. I did have a sense of civic responsibility and wanted to give back somehow so I was in Teach For America. It’s shocking to say “reinstate the draft!” But what I’m thinking more broadly about is some kind of obligatory national service. I think for a lot of people it would be the military.

I just finished my doctorate of education, and I was in a social context class and our professor — who is the stereotypical liberal sociology professor — was talking about all the important things that schools do to build the social capital of our society, to teach citizenship and blah, blah, blah. And I just realized that that’s a load of crap — that they just don’t do that anymore. I thought about, “Where is it that I do see that common vision of who we are as Americans and what our community is supposed to be like?” Because that’s a huge problem we’re facing right now. And I thought about the old men that used to go to the prayer breakfast at my first church and they had all been in World War II. And a lot of them said, “I wouldn’t have known how to peel a potato if I hadn’t been in the army; I wouldn’t have known how to iron; I wouldn’t have ever met so-and-so from the North because I’m from the South.”

So I said something in that class and I got on that professor’s bad side. I said something like, “What if we had the draft again?” and she shot daggers at me. It came from thinking about the role of education in particular, just given my career trajectory, in shaping our civic and social life and the way that we are really not doing that very well.

CM: Where do you think education is falling down on building that social capital stuff?

Chris: I think the performance of public schools, particularly in urban and rural settings is an example. The public schools in the United States are underperforming, in part because of white flight. I think the proliferation of private education and, in particular, Christian private education, really seems to be catering to a white middle class. Then charter schools are pulling some of the parents and kids who are really interested in good public schools out of public schools.

CM: You think the problem is children aren’t being integrated with people who aren’t like them?

Chris: I think that’s one thing. I think failing public schools are also about how we’re so desperately trying to keep our heads above water that any sense of civic responsibility takes a back burner. And maybe I’ve seen too many World War II movies where the platoon pulls together, but I do think that’s a huge part of it, getting people together.

CM: Let’s talk nitty gritty. Are you imagining something like bringing back the draft or are you looking at something more like Israel’s compulsory service?

Chris: Israel does this really well, based on what I’ve seen when I’ve traveled. Not everybody is going to be willing to go into the military. When you get to the policy level, you really have to create exceptions and opportunities.

In World War II you got rejected if you had any physical disability at all — well, you want those people to be a part of the civic fabric, so how do you create opportunities where those people can be engaged? The military is the quick and dirty way, and the path that a lot of people would take. Programs like Teach For America, City Year — I think there are a lot of different ways it could look on the ground. I know there would be conscientious objectors who wouldn’t want to do military service, so you would need to create opportunities for those folks to step into a classroom and experience that.

CM: I want to drill down a little into the values that you think the military instills specifically.

Chris: As a higher education person, I think a lot about how we’re teaching values and what are the values we want to teach and are they helping us to create a cohesive community. I think we talk the language of citizenship a lot, but we don’t have any sense of the flip side of that — the obligation and responsibility that comes with rights and freedoms. I think Robert Putnam put his finger on something in “Bowling Alone”; the Rotary Club and the bowling league and the garden club, all those things are declining and having a sense of connectedness in your community is becoming more difficult. And teaching that connection to community is important. That active and engaged sense of community is important.

I also work with college kids, and I was a college kid. And I know college kids are dumb sometimes; they make bad and immature choices sometimes. An example would be in “Hillbilly Elegy”; the author talked about how valuable the Marines were in helping him mature and focus and get on a path with some particular life skills that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. My family could have been in “Hillbilly Elegy” — my mother’s brothers all were on the path to juvenile delinquency in their teen years and joined the military and it gave them a sense of discipline and purpose and I don’t know how they would have developed it otherwise because they grew up in a chaotic home with an alcoholic and absent father.

CM: Are you thinking at all about how this policy would affect the nation’s likelihood of going to war? Or does that not factor in?

Chris: I think that’s huge. Right after the Iraq War started I think Charlie Rangel was the one who was beating this drum [to reinstate the draft]. He’s part of the generation that was shaped by the experiences of World War II. There’s a lot of class things that comes into this too. My dad was a middle class white kid, was in the National Guard and did his active duty at Fort Sill in the artillery. He trained forward observers to go to Vietnam, and he said invariably that they were black and poor and were going into the most dangerous job in the artillery in Vietnam. And I think he came away with a pretty bad taste in his mouth.

I do think that this kind of broad net that brings a lot of America’s young people into military and national service would lead our policy deciders to be more judicious in their use of the military. Tim Kaine and Jim Webb have talked about their experience of having to make policy decisions on the use of the military and having children who are serving. And down the road, people will have served who are moving into Congress and policy roles at the Department of Defense and things like that. I think it would make for more judicious use of the military and engage more people in that debate.

CM: Lots of people have family or know people who served in Vietnam who were quite scarred by it. We now know PTSD is a huge problem among veterans. Do you think there could be unintentional but very real bad effects if we put more people into combat situations?

Chris: I do think there would be some very real consequences, but people experience PTSD living in America’s inner cities. And they experience depression and anxiety dealing with the fact that their family farm of five generations is failing around them. There are always consequences for the choices that we make and this is not a thing you slip past people — this is a big conversation.

CM: Do you worry that in your hypothetical military/national service plan, the same sort of class and race stratification would happen that we currently see in the military?

Chris: Maybe. I would hope that we as a society — well, I hoped until 2016 and maybe I’m wrong — that we are more aware of those dynamics as a society and could build into the policy mechanisms to make sure there’s accountability.

CM: Have you talked about this outside of that class where you got that bad reaction?

Chris: Not really. It’s interesting, I remember on the morning of Sept. 11th I was teaching and the school was right by the airport, and when I went by the airport there were humvees lined up along the road and people with machine guns were standing on the roof of the airport. I remember thinking, “I’m going to get drafted.” I was 23. It was terrifying. But it was something I would have been willing to do. Because that’s what I think it means to be an American.

[doriscahill]

Georgia’s Wondering Tourist

I received my first visitor, my  sister. She flew on that crazy late Lufthansa flight  I arrived on only five short months ago! Lufthansa’s 3:30 am morning express, just a bunny hop from Munich! You could say its  early!

Surprisingly crowded, I waited steadfast with other family members outside customs. Packed tightly, we all lean in  to view guests as they trickle out glass doors. I am short, but luckily her hair is much like mine: a like-kind puffy curly ball, easy to spot. “Hey!!!” “Immediately she turns, broad smiles. Pushing through we hug luggage in toe, she exhales “I made it!” Admittedly I cried when greeting her at the airport and so did she. We are inseparable as we were in childhood. 

My work in the Peace Corp is really cool, beyond cool, note not easy. My organization mission is to grow economy;in tourism and agriculture for local community and stakeholders. 

My region and where I live, my primary focus is to assist small businesses in both  advertising and associated web advertising. To enhance financial literacy and technical for focus industries, through education and training. The best result is growth and the ability to sustain new skill and knowledge post service. My underlying focus is women development. I am the unofficial photographer for my office, we often use all the photos you see here on this blog and Facebook for reporting/inspection/monitoring purposes and viewing pleasure!

The Tbilisi Airport recently separated the arrival terminal from the departure terminal. The modern  arrival building recently opened;  greeting new comers to Georgia. Visitor travel is up 40% year over and once you visit, you’ll know why.

Possibly with so many new comers airlines will consider better flight arrival /departure/connecting times? 

When visiting, try to have an interpreter or guide with you, my language is good enough now, thus we did  not need one.  However,  complete  GPS mapping of the entire country would be good too. 

Equally important I wish  tourism web sites published first in native language; Georgian then translated to English.   

Not English to Georgian, its critical in my opinion Georgians draft their tourism info in their native language. For instance, Expedia, TripAdvisor, Booking.com offer 40 plus “other” native languages to draft your advertisements. The opposite creates a very messy translation. What I am saying is Google translate is a mess, if your trying to insert English to Georgian.  Also, Georgian language has many beautiful cultural expressions that best translate from Georgian to English not English to Georgian.     

Exhausted we head off to rest. If your not a seasoned traveler, there are many Western standard Hotels equivalent to 4 and 5 star and less than Western prices. For the seasoned, guest houses and hostels are abundant; clean and dirt cheap with breakfast.   Not so bushy tailed, we rise early, to enjoy each other and the Capital. Later we will head out to  my regional area where I reside. My host family so very happy to receive a guest.  

Most August  days the temperture hovers in the mid to high 90s, no rain! Dress light, extra socks and undies, pack water and leave those high heels at home. The Capital City is packed with to do’s but not the crushing crowds of US Major Cities.  Depending on your likes you can fan out stay in other City and village centers only to loop back for your return home.  A short western loop takes you, forest/spa resort town, historic castles, cave cities and  ancient monasteries dating back B.C. Time allowing you can stretch to the Black Sea resort of Batumi, the towering Caucasus Mountains or make an equally enjoying  loop to the east reaching wine country and resorts.  

We posed for a  bunch of pictures highlighting hots spot should you want to visit too!  Americans visitors are not as common in Georgia (I actually checked this statistic) and for many locals, when seen or heard, a must photo opportunity. Friendly and cell phone loving, do not be taken back when everyone asks you to pose! Many bordering and close by countries can also visit Visa Free. We met up with travelers from Estonia, Netherlands, Germany, Iran and Israel. Jordan was recently added to visit Visa Free. 

Most Americans we met were at the Hotel and so far that is where I seem to find them. Other Americans can be found at Peace Corp/Embassy offices. Britain has a presence here with BP, so you likely will bump into some Brits! The U.S. Embassy is in Tbilisi, something every American should know in case you loose your passport! If you do loose your passport, don’t be surprised that the entire Country will help you find it! Even with the language barriers communication beats any 911 system I have ever seen. This culture is loving and social. Very social, guests are treated exceptionally well.  

Less than complete here are some of our details and list of other favorites:

The cable card Ride to Narikala Fortress.  The ride takes  Metro Pass or cash 2.5 Gel one way, that’s about $1.05 (beats Disney) As you swing and glide you see grand views of the City. At the cliff top  is Fortress Castle and the Mother Statue. When at the top you can take the steep cliff walk down and enter the Botanical gardens that are from 1845 another 3 Gel for adults about $1.20. The only rip off is bottled water and still that translates 80 cents, compared to $6 dollars on a Caribbean Island. When completed your walk through the gardens you are near the famous sulfur baths, believe there are six, the older is 300 years. Definitely reserve and enjoy the experience, prices and add-on range in price, but still a bargain. I missed the Finicular  and the new Finicular Complex but hope to catch it next opportunity!

Kharshuri Bizaar (click this blog link)

Ude Village  (click on my blog link)

Borjomi Forest and Park Resort (check out link)

Green Monastary in Borjomi Valley (check out link)

Rabati Castle in Akhaltskikhe (check out link)

Vardzia Cave City (check out link)

Ninotsminda ნინოცმინდა Village Gorelovka სოფელი გორელოვკა

Georgia Safety Tips:

Money Exchange: not a problem, easy and at the airport and is thriving privately in most Cities. Also my US debit card distributes GEL, EURO and Dollars at Georgian ATMs. I notified my bank. 

Cell Coverage: excellent and offered at most hotels and many cafes. Don’t plan on streaming War and Peace. 

Water: Bring a good water bottle, I use a Hydro Flask. And a Sterile-Pen, I use a Quantum. You would not want to ruin your trip with dehydration and some funky microbe. The country is developing!!

Taxis: Arrange this through your hotel or trusted Georgian and  please only engaged Company Taxis (permitted or licensed). Taxify is a good smart phone app available in Tbilisi for rides, no UBER. Its a safety risk to flag a cab driver without knowing Georgian and your likely to get overcharged. Driving practices are aggressive. Check for seat belts. Not all have air conditioning. 

Marshurktka: This is the intercity/village travel by can and available and stations and road side waiting areas. Cheap, crowded and mostly no air conditioning. These Vans hold 16-20 people and they can be hot or too cold and crammed. 

Train: Only available to certain Cities in Georgia. Cheap. There is an overnight train to Batumi. Reserve a ticket for 2nd or 1st class. (i.e. crowded)

Metro Train and Yellow Vans: Good subway transport within Tbilisi. Easy maps. There are Yellow Van routes marked at stops on City roads. Cheap with transfer long transfer time to save money. 

General: Bring motion sickness pills if you plan to go off main roads, its mountainous and many roads are unpaved. Consider a stomach ant-acid or Imodium in case what you eat effects you, you will most definitely be eating new foods.

Proper Clothing: Many areas in Georgia are conservative in dress. Read up on this as not to be turned away at touring sites. That means you should not bring those short shorts, ragged jean or thread thin short tops. And proper shoes. This applies to men too.

Stray animals: Do not pet or feed the stray animals, they can and do carry disease. 

Health: If your unsteady on your feet or need cane or wheel chair assistance, this would likely be a significant challenge to visit.  Many sites are riddled with uneven pavement, lack elevators, ramps and steps are many and steep. If you have certain conditions and need access to specialized medical care, do your research this will likely limit your choices.  Check out my blog on watching where you walk http://doriscahill.tumblr.com/post/164245554346/heads-up-construction

A Blog Story on Safety: Heads Up when Walking!!!

And Last but not least, I  knocked one off a bucket list when in Tbilisi. This ditty is strictly my American perspective. Enjoy!

Tbilisi means warm in Georgian and is known for its hot sulfur springs. For centuries bath houses have operated and are open to tourists and residents to bath in hot community pools, get a scrub down with hot soap. 

We requested a private bath, and had it reserved by the hotel, the sulfur baths are popular. There are a number of baths in the old city district to chose from too. Private means only your party of people.  

Arriving timely and seeing we are American you are plucked from the crowd quickly  and offered some nice extras.  We mention we are reserved and offered soap, towels, body wash and scrub. 

We are led to this very large room at least 80 by 40 feet wide. First through an  opening with a  living room with a curtained room. I peek in behind the curtain, there is a bare mattress/queen size bed. Quickly closing it thinking,  “ bet you know what that is for :-)”. 

Entering the entire room is steamy and smells of sulfur.  Marble flooring throughout the bath. Hand laid brick walls rise up to the a circular copula a opening,  stone marble slabs with tilting pillows on  either side, two open small opening on top you can see the sky. Straight ahead one  larger hot pool and immediately to the left a the smaller cold pool. A Turkish Toilet  to the back corner  with no door, the toilet is set to the back. Other than cleanliness at times this toilet is less stressful of the body. 

One gets to wear their birthday suit, its does not feel private at all. At first I was taken back, a topless in her underwear enters.  Apparently our  attendant. In broken English and pointing she instructs us  to shower, then dunk hot, then dunk cold. Hot then cold. She would return in 15 minutes. She returns timely remains topless and seems quiet happy and relaxed. Point us to the stone slab and proceeds to scrub, wash, rinse and repeat til we are squeaky clean. Professional, but not very American, a good cultural experience.

I understand the public baths are separated by gender.

Thanks for listening! I enjoy my returning visitors :-). Doe

[blustersquall]

Only Make Believe // Chapter 2: A Contract

First // ArchiveOfOurOwn  // FanFiction.net // Master Post // Previous // Next

Chapter art by @sangosweetz / sangosweetheart on deviantart

16th December

----

Cullen parked outside Nevena's apartment building. He texted to let her know he was there after switching off the engine. He quickly received a response telling him to come up. After pocketing his phone, got out of the car, and crossed the street to her apartment building. The building was not a purpose built block like so many in Denerim. It was once a family home that was converted into apartments when such large houses became unnecessary. Over the previous days Nevena told him she lived in the top most flat, a loft apartment.

They spoke regularly since their meeting at Red Jenny's. There was a lot to discuss and details they needed to rehearse in order for their relationship to seem real. With past clients, Cullen only ever needed the basics – an estimated length of time he and the client had been dating, and where they met often sufficed – with Nevena, given the length of time this façade would be in place, they needed to be thorough and perfect. From what Nevena told him, her sisters would pick up on any discrepancies, and she would be mortified if they discovered their relationship was a sham. Despite being curious, Cullen didn't inquire why. It was none of his business to begin with, and if Nevena wanted to tell him, she could in her own time.

Inside the bag slung over his shoulder, he carried with him the contract he spent the last three days painstakingly typing, adjusting, and rewording. It was, what he considered, perfect down to the last detail, and was a lot shorter than he anticipated. There was no small print, he spoke to Nevena while making the first draft and notified her of any changes. Everything was black and white, above board and they were both aware of the situation.

The arrangement was for a four-week ploy where they would act as a couple. They both agreed to hand holding, mild polite kissing - though Cullen wasn't sure what polite kissing was exactly, he expected Nevena would inform him. Sex was out of the question - as it was for all his clients - and Nevena was under no obligation to pay Cullen for his services if she felt he was unsatisfactory. It was all very clinical but necessary. He did not want to be caught in hot water, and the contracts always made the client feel more relaxed. And Cullen was of the impression that Nevena would need all the help she could get to feel relaxed.

He stopped outside her door, knocked, and waited. From inside he heard an upbeat tune come to an abrupt stop, swiftly followed by low muttering and footsteps.

"Just a second," Nevena called from inside. There were a few sounds of metal on metal, locks being fiddled with and chains being unlatched. Nevena opened the door and stood to one side. "Come on in." She was red cheeked; her hair a tousled mess, fluffier than Cullen remembered it. She was dressed in jeans, a long woolen jumper, and boots up to her knees. "I'm uh--" She quickly grabbed something off the floor as Cullen stepped over the threshold, "I'm just checking I have everything. Give me a minute."

"Take your time." Cullen closed the door behind him. "No rush, right?"

"Ha," her laughter was strained. "Yeah..." She turned quickly on one foot and practically frog marched herself into what he could only assume was her bedroom. He lingered in the open-plan living room, examining her living space.

It was a large space, probably bigger than his own apartment, and old. A lot of the features were clearly original to the house, and added a certain rustic touch to everything. It was painted throughout, mostly white, with the wall opposite the large bay windows painted a warm orange. The windows looked out onto a small balcony and over the city, letting in what cold grey light the December day offered.

There was a small kitchen, divided from the main room only by a folding screen. It was well stocked from what Cullen could see, with pots, pans, and other cooking implements. He wondered if they saw much use. The living area was clearly where Nevena spent most of her time given how lived in it looked with papers and letters strewn across a coffee table. Two white plush sofas were situated near each other, a two-seater and a three-seater. The cushions scattered over them were of a turquoise colour – Cullen noticed that there was a lot of turquoise; small items littered around to contrast the orange wall. There was a coffee table in between the sofas, and the main focus of the living area, a fire place with a beautiful ornamental mantle over it. A television hung above that.

Putting his bag down by the door, Cullen went to the fireplace. Across it were Christmas cards and dozens of photos in frames. Many were of Nevena with a woman with dark brunette hair, sometimes joined by a man with a straight nose and sandy-brown hair. The one photo out of place was almost tucked out of the way and to one side, partly obscured by a Christmas card. Nevena was in it with three other women and three men. The right edge was cut away leaving a mystery arm around Nevena's shoulders.

Cullen picked up the photograph to examine it.

He assumed the women were Nevena's sisters and looked them over closely. The one closest to the photograph taker looked to be the oldest. She had an angular face, a nose that was slightly tilted upwards, and rosy coloured skin. Her eyes, intelligent and shining in the photograph, were of a dark shade of green. Her neatly styled hair was a ruddy brown and looked about shoulder length. Beside her was a man, dark skinned, dark eyes, and black hair. There was stylish scruff across his cheeks, and the hint of a beard growing from his chin.

Next was another sister, her skin the same colour as the first’s. Her face was rounder and did not look quite so severe. She had high cheekbones that brought attention to her most striking feature: startling blue-green eyes. Her hair was a more light brown than the first woman, but still not blonde like Nevena's. With her sat another man, pale and pasty with some kind of bump to his nose, possibly gained from it being broken in the past. His eyes were small, a little on the squinty side, but he had a genuine, if weak, smile. His mousey brown hair was already thinning though he was clearly trying to disguise it.

The third woman looked the closest to Nevena in age. Her face was round and plump, lingering hints of baby fat that refused to shift, her cheeks were a mottled red colour and her skin looked flushed. She had a kinder face than the other two, warm hazel eyes, pretty smile, and thick brown hair all tumbling around her shoulders - it appeared to reach down to her waist. With her was a third man, beaming at the camera with a well practiced smile. A businessman's smile. Around his eyes were wrinkles and there were heavy bags under his eyes. His teeth were a pristine white and perfectly straight - almost gleaming out of the photograph. His hair was cut short and scruffy, almost black in colour, while his eyes were a steel blue.

The last person in the photograph was Nevena. Tucked on to the end of the long couch they were crammed onto, she looked small and uncomfortable. Her smile looked less like a smile and more like a scream for help– even her eyes looked as though they were pleading. She was hunched over, hands hidden in the sleeves of her jumper. Cullen noticed that a hand - that of the person cut from the photograph - was on her thigh and squeezing so hard their fingertips were white.

The image made Cullen frown. He thought back to family photographs of him with his siblings and how they looked nothing like this one. They were often spontaneous, never posed. There was always energy. Here everyone looked stilted, stiff, and uncomfortable. He ran his thumb across the glass, his focus fixed on Nevena's expression of unease.

"Ready t--" Cullen started at Nevena's voice. "Uhm... Mr. Rutherford?" Her footsteps approached and he fumbled with the photograph. "What are you looking at?"

"Sorry." He handed her the picture when she stood at his side. He noticed she had managed to tame her hair, and it was now pulled into a messy bun with tendrils hanging down around her face. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No apology necessary. You didn't do any damage." Nevena smiled up at him and ran her fingers over the glass in the frame. "These are my sisters and their husbands. In case it wasn't obvious." She leaned across him to put the picture back in its place. "That's Ineria and Josef." She pointed to the first couple. "Ineria is... like, twelve years older than me, I think. She and Josef have been married for a looong time. He's a contractor. And then, this is Clotilde and Owen."

"Clotilde is a really ... interesting name." Cullen remarked, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I mean, yours is interesting, but Clotilde is an old name."

"We call her Cleo," Nevena shrugged. The collar of her jumper slipped off her shoulder and she quickly pulled it back into place. "Or Tilly. Rarely Clotilde. I think only Mum and Dad call her Clotilde."

"What does Owen do?"

Nevena snorted, "I have no idea. Last I checked he had quit his day job and was trying to 'find himself.' Some kind of spirituality guru, peddling homeopathy or something. He's never in a job for long."

"So this is Arienne?" Cullen indicated to the last couple, the woman with the kind face and the man with the business smile.

"Yes," Nevena nodded. "She's closest to me in age, but there's still seven years between us. Monty - Montague - is kind of slimy. He's always given me a weird vibe. But he loves Arienne, so that's all that really matters." Another shrug. "And then there's me."

They stood in silence for a few moments both staring at the photograph and not addressing the elephant in the room - the person cut out of the picture. Cullen wrestled with himself and the morbid curiosity welling up inside him. It was obviously someone of importance, someone who once held significance in Nevena's life or the life of her family. And given the body language, the hand on her thigh and the arm around her shoulder, probably someone she was once in a relationship with. One that ended badly. A person didn't cut someone out of a photograph when things ended amicably or it was mutual.

"You--"

"Ready to go?" Nevena cut him off and gasped. "Oh, sorry. What were you going to say?"

Cullen glanced between the photo and her. He brushed his thumb across his lip feeling the pucker of the scar under his thumb. It was a habit, one he did when he was thinking, according to his sister. He tutted and nodded at the photograph. "Who got cut out of it?"

There was an immediate change in Nevena at his question. The comfortable stance became completely still, her shoulders squared and Cullen was almost sure he heard her breath catch. He waited a few moments, his mouth going dry. Clearly his question was a question too far and he was stepping on sensitive ground.

"No one," Nevena replied with a controlled coolness to her tone. She sighed, and in doing so forced her shoulders to relax. "Ready to make a move?"

Cullen watched her cross from the fireplace to where she left her suitcase standing near the door. There was a coat and scarf draped over it and a laptop bag sitting next to the suitcase. She picked up the scarf and wound it around her neck while looking at him expectantly. He let out a long breath he was unaware he was holding and ruffled a hand through his hair turning his back on the fireplace and the photograph.

"Sure." He walked towards her. "Let me just give you this contract first."

"Oh, right." Nevena waited while Cullen removed a printed copy of the contract from his bag and handed it to her. It was four pages and all the main articles were itemized with bullet points. "Do I need to sign it or anything?" asked Nevena, skimming the first page.

"No. This is just for your records and reference." Explained Cullen. "I have one too, and the master copy is at home with the digital signature you provided for me. Everything is as we agreed upon."

Nevena sighed, "I'll keep this safe. I don't want any of my sisters to find it if they go snooping through my stuff."

"Would they?" Cullen queried, lifting a brow. "Go through your stuff, I mean?" The way Nevena looked at him from over the top of the paper gave him all the answer he required. Clearly it was something they would do, else she would not have said so. Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder he heard Nevena stifle a small chuckle. "What?"

"I like how 'no sex' is bold and underlined." The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "As if it needed to be reiterated."

Cullen gave a noncommittal grunt and shrugged. "No harm in making sure we both know where the boundaries are."

"Of course, I didn't mean--"

"Ready to go?" Interrupted Cullen, picking up her suitcase.

An hour on the road and Nevena found she still couldn't bring herself to relax. The radio was on; she and Cullen had made vague small talk about the traffic, the weather, and what they filled the rest of their week with for the first fifteen minutes before descending into uneasy silence. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and on the gear stick - never quite in time with the music. It was driving her a little crazy.

The traffic was clear for the most part, a few stops and starts on the way out of the city; but now they were on the motorway there were no jams or diversions and they were making good time. Nevena's phone was vibrating every ten to twenty minutes; Ineria was asking where they were and if they knew what they were doing.

Nevena only barely remembered her sister's bed and breakfast, having only stayed there the once several years ago. Back then it was just a large manor house with rooms set aside for guests, last minute holiday bookers, or those on a spur of the moment weekend getaway. According to Ineria's family updates - sent out like clockwork every six months - the bed and breakfast grew popular enough to warrant expansion. Now she and Josef ran Haven together, while their three children went to school in the small town nearby at the bottom of the Frostback Mountains.

Haven itself, according to the website, was a 'sprawling secret hideaway tucked at the bottom of the mountains'. It consisted of around twenty-eight acres of land, with twelve new cabins set in different areas and all connected by various roads and walkways. The manor house was still part of the business - half the house was now a family home and the other half was the business. It seemed to be flourishing, if the reviews and guest testimonials on the website were anything to go by, though Nevena was skeptical. It would not be beyond Ineria to ask her friends to give fake reviews.

Nevena glanced down at her phone as it vibrated again in her lap.

Ineria: Where are you? x

Slouching back in the passenger seat, Nevena ignored the message and tried to focus on other things– the music from the radio, the steady sound of wheels on tarmac, Cullen drumming his damn fingers to the music playing. Drumming them always just out of time...

She jerked forward and reached for the radio switching it off before slumping back in the chair. She didn't look at Cullen - though she could feel him staring at her - and crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant teenager having a tantrum. Her face grew warm and she swore to herself she wasn't blushing for behaving so rudely.

"If you wanted to turn it off, all you had to do was ask," Cullen said after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence.

Maybe the radio and his out-of-time tapping were better.

"Sorry," said Nevena, glancing across at him from the corner of her eye. "I'm a little on edge."

"I noticed." He half-smirked and half-smiled. Nevena had yet to really see him smile. "We've got a good few hours before we get to your sister's place. Do you want to run over things again?"

"Sure," Nevena shrugged. 'Things' were the details they had agreed on over the past few days– little things like where they met, how long they had been dating, who made the first move. Little nit-picky things that Nevena was certain her sisters and parents would pester them about. Cullen was the one who decided everything, working in bits of his life and Nevena's own so they seemed entwined, and their meeting and their relationship would come across as natural, logical progression.

"We met?"

"At Roselyn and Alistair's engagement party, two years ago," Nevena said. "You knew Alistair from school and while you weren't close then, the two of you reconnected when you moved to Denerim and realized he lived there too."

"Okay," Cullen nodded. "And?"

"And we..." Nevena pursed her lips, staring wide-eyed at her distorted reflection in the windscreen. "We bumped into each other at the party, and exchanged numbers because Roselyn insisted we did. Neither of us called or texted for about six months, until we met each other again by accident at the movies. We'd both gone alone because it was one of those streamed-in-from-the-theatre performances."

"What was the play?"

She opened and then closed her mouth. "Oh. Crap. Uhm..."

"Come on, you know this," Cullen said, as he eased the car from one lane into the other.

"I know this," Nevena repeated. The answer was on her phone, but she needed to remember. "It was... I want to say an all male cast of 'Taming of the Shrew'."

"See, you knew," Cullen offered a brief crooked smile. "What happened after that?"

"We decided we had a good time, and started keeping in regular touch." Exhaling deeply, Nevena shifted in her seat. She wriggled her toes inside her boots and stretched her legs out as far as they would go in the foot well. "We've been dating around six months. I didn't say anything to my family because I wasn't sure if this was serious or not."

"Sounds about right." Cullen rubbed a hand over his chin, scratching briefly at his stubble. "Do you think that's enough to keep your family content?"

"I guess." She shrugged. "We'll have to see." They fell into silence again. Nevena's phone continued to vibrate. She shoved it in her satchel after the forth message arrived and vowed not to look at it again until they arrived at Haven.

"Why not turn it off?"

"Force of habit," Nevena huffed. "Can I ask you something?" She turned her head to look at Cullen more directly. It was probably the first time she had done so since getting in the car. He glanced at her from the corner of one eye and lifted an eyebrow, as if that was the sign she could ask her question. She noticed he had a nice, strong profile– she had noticed it in the café too, but closer up, it was clearer to her. Strong brow, strong, straight nose, square jaw, strong chin, attractively shaped lips… "How on Earth are you single?"

Cullen scoffed and almost seemed to choke on his laughter, "That was your question?"

"No!" Nevena squeezed her eyes closed and pushed her face into her hands, mortified at herself for her moment of thoughtlessness. She would never ask him something so personal. "I mean, no. No! I don't want to know. I don't know why I said that!"

"Are you sure?" He was still chuckling.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Raking her fingers through the tendrils of hair loose around her forehead, Nevena growled softly. "I wanted to ask - why are you doing this?" She fought past her embarrassment and the burning sensation in her face. "You said you've done it before for an evening or a day, but this is... this is practically a month. It's a huge commitment. I can't imagine that is something you would take on lightly."

"Maybe I like you," Cullen smirked. Nevena shrank down into her jumper and hid behind her scarf. She wanted the ground to open and swallow her up. Her lack of response seemed enough for Cullen to sober. He took a steadying breath, which helped the atmosphere in the car dissipate somewhat. "Honestly, I guess it's because I know how you feel."

Nevena's brow furrowed. She straightened and looked at him more directly again. "Oh?"

"I know how it feels to be the odd one out in your family." He looked at her for a second before focusing back on the road.

"Sure," she snorted.

"It's true," he protested. "I have two sisters and a brother. They all have lives, and families of their own. And while they are nowhere near as horrendous as your family sound - no offense intended - there are times when they pick at and make fun of my lack of a love life... I guess it's meant to be harmless but..." Cullen sighed. "I sympathize." He offered a genuinely kind look, his eyes warm. "If I can help save you from a month of being the target of your family's jibes and criticism by pretending that we're in a relationship, then I'm happy to do it."

"Oh..." Nevena leaned back in the car seat again. "Well... Thanks then. I guess." She clasped her hands between her thighs and stared out of the window at nothing. The air in the car was tense again, a little heavier than before.

"You're welcome." Cullen reached across and switched the radio back on.

Thank you to my beta readers, @razerathane, @just-another-dalish-elf, and @sakurasakes.

And thank you guys for the amazing reaction and feedback on the first chapter. It's always nerve wracking to upload something entirely brand new, so the reception was amazing. Thank you so much! <3 The update schedule for this will be a bit random - I'd like for every upload to be a surprise. But I'll do my best not to keep everyone waiting /too/ long between uploads.

Thanks again for an amazing response on the first chapter, I cannot tell you how grateful I was for such an amazing reaction! <3 I hope you've enjoyed this second chapter. Please, as always, let me know your thoughts in the comments/tags/reblogs/etc!

Reblogs are always welcome and appreciated! <3

Or, if you’d prefer, you can comment on the chapter itself on AO3 or fanfiction.net

Thanks again for reading! Next chapter soon! ^^

[winemvmii]

Hack

New Post has been published on http://www.fifa-games.com/hack/

Hack

You want to have the best squad on FUT 20? Players like Zidane, Pele, Ronaldo, Messi or Maradona? Now you can get them all without spending any money. Use the FIFA 20 hack for your PS4, Xbox One, Switch and PC. It only takes three minutes!

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Here is the ultimate proof video and how it works! We used the FIFA Points we generated to open FUT packs!

The FIFA 20 hack allowed us to form an absolute awesome team even before the actual release of the game.

This is our team! We didn’t spend any money on the game. You can run the FIFA 20 coin generator to get the best team.

This only took us three minutes:

Time to get free FIFA 20 coins

FIFA Ultimate Team is so much fun, but for most of the gamers it can be a real pain. At some point its really frustrating. For example when you just spend $100 for FIFA Points, using them all on FUT packs and you get nothing valuable out of them. Mostly the packs contain consumable items such as contracts, attributes or other items like kits, badges or stadiums. Everyone already understood: It is absolutely not worth it to spend real money on Ultimate Team. The chance of getting great players is extremely low. But what if you could simply generate free FIFA 20 coins and points on your club? Imagine you could have millions of coins without any effort. Basically you could buy any player you want, build the strongest squad ever and dominate the FUT Champions Cup. What if I tell you such tool exists since FIFA 11? It is called FIFA Coin Generator can be used on every device. What you need is a working internet connection and an existing team in the game.

Why is not everyone using hacks?

Maybe you wonder: If it would be so easy to get coins and points for free, then why aren’t there more people using the FIFA 20 hack? Well, this has several reasons. The most common reason is: People are afraid to use the FIFA 20 coins hack, because they think someone is going to steal their players or coins. Others think they will get their team banned. Some other gamers already used the FIFA 20 coin generator, but the tool they used was a fake and it didn’t work for them. Many of the gamer are not even trying to use it. They are just reading comments on YouTube and listen to rumours. Guess what? Everyone who tried the FIFA 20 coin generator got the points and coins. You don’t believe it? Try it by yourself and see!

Nobody asks for your security question, email or password. No one will have access over your account. You don’t need to download anything You have nothing to lose, you can only win!

Use it on every platform!

You can use the FIFA 20 hack on every platform. it doesn’t matter if you play on a Xbox One, PlayStation 4, Nintendo Switch or the PC. It is also compatible with the FUT Companion App and the Web App. It is by far the best solution when it comes to FIFA 20 cheats. It gives you full control over your team, the transfer market and your squad. You can literally build any team you want.

FAQ

Frequently Asked Questions

Can I get as much free FIFA 20 coins and points as I want?

Yes, it is your choice. There is no limit.

How often can I use it?

Literally as often as you want. We recommend you to use it on a small scale first. Get 500k coins first and later scale it up to 10 millions. Don’t make it too obvious.

Will someone have access over my team or account?

No one is ever going to have access over your account. Nobody got your personal information such as your password or security question, so its absolutely not possible to have any access.

How long does it take?

The whole process shouldn’t take longer than three minutes. However, it can take a bit longer to receive the coins. This doesn’t depend on us, but on EAs server. Mostly it takes around 5-10 minutes to receive all the free FIFA 20 coins.

Do you have other cheats?

Yes, check out our blog. We have a big collection of cheats, guides and tutorials to help you become an even better player.

Are there are tools for other games?

Yes, we also have a FIFA Mobile hack and we publish new tools for other soccer games on a daily basis.

Is there any risk?

You won’t get banned by using the FIFA 20 coin generator. Your IP and account is protected by several encryption methods and proxies.

What will happen to the coins and points later on?

Nothing, they will stay on your account. Use them for whatever you want. For players, FUT packs or FUT Draft. The choice is yours.

Will someone ever find out?

As long as you don’t tell anyone nobody is going to find it out. You are fully anonymous by using our FIFA 20 coins hack.

Is it illegal to use the FUT 20 hack?

No, its not illegal. Its just against the Terms of service of EA, but everything which brings you coins willingly is against their Tos. Also trading on the transfer market is against their Tos. Don’t mind it, simply get free coins and points.

Details about the FIFA Ultimate Team Hack

Name FIFA 20 Coin Generator Developer SKIDROW Last updated September 2019 Compatibility PC, Xbox, PlayStation, Switch, Companion, Web App Encrypted? Yes Active users more than 50,000