#real talk it reminded me how much of a sucker i am for the mundanity of ancient life

[imaginealpha]

Saw gladiator ii last night and it was pretty good but the entire time I was like it could've gone so much harderrrr if you got more creative with the plot!! Which reminds me of my current wip which borrows cultural elements from various ancient societies and makes me want to write that. which is the worst possible decision I could be making right now

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 3: Go Yeong and Gyu-ho

Last week I talked about Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma and concluded the piece with a declaration of hope that someday, he learns to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his Umma. Which begs the question: how exactly does one learn to love, if the framework they were presented with in their childhood turns out to be flawed, or even downright destructive?

@twig-tea has already gone over the dynamics of Go Yeong and Gyu-ho’s relationship in her excellent post. She talks about the irritants, the mundanity, the way they both clearly want the best for each other, even when they’re fighting. And @lurkingshan mentioned how the show’s depiction of Yeong and Gyu-ho’s relationship felt so real, something we rarely see on television. I’ve always been a sucker for narratives that explore the difficulties faced by a couple after they get together, so reading and watching this section of the story was a treat for me.

I want to bring attention to a moment from the show that stuck with me for days after: the scene where Go Yeong types “Unlike our dramatic start, our relationship turned out to be average, even dull” as Gyu-ho puts fresh water bottles into the refrigerator. Gyu-ho gets up, silently looks at Go Yeong for a moment, turns off the light and goes to bed.

This hit me way harder than I thought it would, because we just *saw* what Go Yeong was typing, and we saw that Gyu-ho could see his screen. It felt so representative of their relationship; Go Yeong dissecting it with his pen as Gyu-ho is waiting for him, right there, to talk to him. Alexa, play right where you left me by Taylor Swift *fetches a bottle of wine to pair with the despair*

The hardest part of watching this relationship come to an abrupt end was that we could clearly see the both of them trying. I love that we saw Yeong ask T-aras for advice after his fight with Gyu-ho at the cafe. Going to your friends for help when you don’t know where you’re fucking up in a relationship is a great idea, and I’m happy that the show created this detail. When Yeong was pissed off about their laundry becoming smelly on the drying rack, Gyu-ho found a way to solve the problem, by drying their clothes at a laundromat.

I wanna talk more about Gyu-ho because he was one of the most earnest characters I’ve encountered in fiction. In the book, we only see him from Young’s narrative perspective. I love his depiction in the show because it decouples him from Young’s lens and forces us to engage with their conflicts without Young’s voice in our head. Gyu-ho pursues Yeong after their chaotic meeting at the bar. He does not jump into bed with Yeong immediately, but also openly expresses his desire when he reminds Yeong that they are on their third date. He does not hesitate to take space in Yeong’s life, barging in to fix his curtains, dragging him out from bed for a morning walk. When Yeong tells him about Kylie, he hugs him close and cries. And then chides him for being so cavalier about it (I love him so much, can y’all tell?). When they’re living together and bickering about chores and the minutiae of life, he does not become mean about it. He makes conscious efforts to spend time together, before and during their cohabitation. He stands his ground in a fight, but also reaches out for truce after the fight runs out of steam.

[If it feels like I am putting down Yeong and his behaviors when talking about Gyu-ho, I am not. These characters are complex and real, and therefore flawed. I am simply focusing on Gyu-ho in this post because @lurkingshan already wrote a defense for my boy Yeong.]

Gyu-ho understands early on in their relationship that Yeong is not comfortable communicating his fears, pain and shame, and that he masks them with aloofness. @wen-kexing-apologist wrote about how Gyu-ho turns away when Yeong smiles at him from across the aisle when they are traveling to the airport. He sees it for what it is, a refusal to be vulnerable with him. And that’s the moment I saw where they failed in their relationship.

I think we learn to love by loving, or at the very least, trying to love another person. Trial and error. Go Yeong was more vulnerable with Gyu-ho than he had been with any of his previous partners, and yet he couldn’t let him in enough to share the reason why he could not travel to China. He couldn’t see himself worthy of comparison with Gyu-ho’s potential career and financial growth from his stint in Shanghai. And Gyu-ho felt this distance from Yeong and chose to not push him on it. He bared his heart to Yeong, but did not possess the strength to force his way in whenever Yeong put up a wall. This problem was too big for both Yeong and Gyu-ho to solve individually, and they did not learn to problem-solve together in this relationship. Gyu-ho could not find a laundromat to solve this one, so he chose to walk away.

[hellothere-generalangsty]

hi hello little mes. may i have a lil 📝 please? 👉🏻👈🏻 🥺 love u tons baby

-ari

Baaaabe of course I'll do yours! Trust me there are a lot. Because your fics are just THAT comforting and good. Also the order follows the one of your Masterlist; my absolute favorite is in blue 💙

Tagging u because I don't think you receive the notif when you send anonymously (I know I don't) @loth-wolffe

________

Home again

Of course I had to talk about this one; I just love the subtext in it.

[…]a little space for him to just be something more than what he was bred to be; not a soldier, not a brother, not a clone.

Just him.

See, that's the essence of the clones. The struggle of finding their identity through all these designations. Soldier, clone, brother, man. All of them, yet none of them. But then there's another option.

Themselves. No other name but the one they chose. No other person but the one they are.

He's got you, he thinks. And he's home.

Even if it's for a few days, everything's alright.

"It is now."

Again; it's beautiful yet painful. The only peace, comfort, home he knows is you; and you are ephemeral, he's passing-by for a few days, and though for a few days things will be fine- these days will also stop eventually and bring him back to the cold, bloody war he has no other choice but to be a part of.

And you manage to express that through barely a few sentences. I am amazed.

.

It's been a long, long time

This one is. It always hit me in the guts because it feels close to home to be honest. And it's both terrifying and reassuring to really be the reader and to know what they both feel; that dreading fear, do you still love me like you used to?

Which led you to this moment, nervousness bubbling in your chest like some sort of venom, thick and foul, spreading through your body fast and corrosive.

You feel sick at the mere thought of having him in front of you.

These two quotes hurt from being so real. It's the anxiety eating you alive as your mind fills with questions and doubts and fears.

And then the moment comes:

Your hand itches to feel him.

Where you need to know. You need a touch, a word, something to let you know where exactly you are now.

Until you do.

Rex wraps your body in his arms, pulling you flush against him, face hiding in your neck as he breathes you in. He almost cries, right then and there, you smell just like he remembered, like something sweet, something like home.

It's comforting, really, to know nothing has changed between you two in a galaxy that always seems to be.

And just like that, you know you're fine.

And it's honestly - for me - your best fic because it's the one I see myself in the most. It's very real to me and it's just... It just gave me hope when I was hopeless; it gave me the strength to face my fears/ doubts and to trust my partner and myself enough to know that even after all that time apart, it would be alright.

We still find each other. We still love each other, and care for each other. And we still find a way to make things work.

It's not about leaving, it's about always coming back to each other. And that's why this fic will always have a very special place in my heart.

I'm grateful you wrote it, because it was here when I needed it the most.

.

Here in the open

Rex is so soft in this one-

The way he drops the mantle of Captain and simply is Rex, a man who never felt sand under his feet, who never felt the warmth of a kiss and the soft touches of hands running on his body-

I promise you this fic is. Absolutely amazing. It's just so delicate and natural; the way everything happens, learning that a beach can be pretty and calm, that you can feel something else than your hard plastoid armour or the cold metal of droids; that there's more than fighting in life.

It's just so meaningful and soft, I just love that fic.

And tbh these last few sentences were hot. Me like it.

.

Goodbye again

It's a Fives' fic, of course I love it. And it's the opposite of 'It's been a long, long time' in a way, so I love it even more.

That one quote about knowing that one day, he won't come back... It hurts. It really does. Because we know he won't come back, right. That's why we write these fics in the first place, because we know and we are so desperate to change that.

You wish you could see him, but he's already late, and someone calls his name but he decides ignores them.

Right now, you're more important than them, than war, than everything he's supposed to be made for. You are his whole world, at the end, his home, his safe harbor he can always come back to after the most harrowing storm.

And again, the whole crisis around who you were made to be and who you want to be- who you truly are.

And the metaphor? Earlier on he thinks reader is an anchor to him; and now a safe harbor? Yes, sign me in immediately.

"I'll comm you as soon as I can."

[A few moments later, on the comm]

"I miss you already."

Dude. That and the "I said I love you! "

It just makes me m e l t. It's so SOFT. Ari I promise you I could read everyday and feel these goosebumps like it was the first time. I'm just so soft for this little playfulness, this amused affection he has.

That's just... That's just so him.

[And here you can witness Meds falling in love all over again]

.

Doctor's orders

This. I am SO WEAK for this trope. "Where does it hurts? " try my CHEEKS BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP SMILING DUDE.

Kix is so. Soft. And the way you wrote it? "This is it. This is him making the first move." ?? "Then you'll need a few more kisses. Doctor's orders. " ??? Do you want me dead????

Good thing Kix's a doctor because I need someone to breath life back into my body right now.

.

The warmth a cup of caf brings can also be given by the gentlest of souls.

Where do I even start...

I love the domestic undertones. The habits, knowing about one another, recognising patterns and filling the gaps between the two.

Him watering the plants, you knowing he hates that movie; it just smells like trust and comfort. That's the kind of habits and almost mechanical reactions you develop when you just know someone.

This fic is like- the development of "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you" and that's just... So meaningful.

You know, I'm a sucker for domestic life and everything that comes with it, and this fic is the epitome of that. It's comforting. I love it.

.

Baby came home

It's one of the first I read from you, and I remember how painful it was. I think that's the fic that convinced me to dedicate my life to your stories.

The amount of pain. Unrequited Love is one thing; but when both parties love each other yet it just can't be-

"I can't love you anymore." / "you can't love me anymore."

Baby I promise you, you broke my heart and had me honestly tearing up. It is even more because it's Obi-Wan. A man who spent his life losing everything he ever had. His freedom, his master, his friends, men, lovers. Eventually his family, and his life.

And here he loses more. And here he carries pain- and it hurts him but not only. And that's soul crushing.

And you have a way with words. You have a way with words that make it all so true, you don't just write these stories, you bring them to life. And it's painful but oh will I ask for more anyway.

.

That Maul fic

"Ruthless and violent.

But not with you."

That's it. That's the trope. I am in love.

I just- I adore your take on Maul. And you should expect a Maul request when you'll open them again because gIRL do you write him well.

Because before you he didn't know something as simple a touch could be so soft, and light, before you he had no knowledge of such feelings, of warmth and and home. Of safeness.

This is the same energy as Crosshair being at home when he's with you. Men breeded for war, hurt and broken, somehow managing to find a little peace and softness through someoke who just- loves them.

[…]and his eyes gleam at the small action, the warm shade of a yellow that reminds you of the suns you both met under makes you lean over for a kiss […]

Aka how to turn a very distinctive symbol of pain and evil into something delicate and beautiful. Poetry at it's finest.

It's been too long since he last kissed you. Around noon, before you left to your usual walks around the Palace gardens' with his brother.

It's so sweet; at first I chuckled because it's silly. But then I felt sad because it is silly. It's mundane, and it feels exaggerated - just what you wrote - but it's Maul. A man who's been deprived of love and affection for so long, of course he's going to miss it as soon as it leaves.

As soon as you leave.

I just- I just love how you have me sitting there and analysing your fics and finding double meanings and subtext and how you subtly reminds us of the pain in the soft moments; and the softness in the painful ones.

This fic is a feel- good fic; it's powerful yet soft and I absolutely love that.

________

So yeah. That was a bit longer than I thought but I won't apologize because these fics are just-

They're so comforting and good. And I just love them so. So much.

Moony is right when she says you write magic; you do. And, Ari. I am proud of you. I really am. You always leave me there, speechless and absolutely captivated by your stories and the delicacy of your words and that little something hidden between the lines-

I'm not lying when I say you hold my heart in your hands. You really do.

[damejudyhench]

1, 4, 9, 16, 22, and 35 please :) you don't have to answer them all though!

You asked for it - you got it ;)

(This is a long post and I’m on mobile so I’m not sure how to do a cut, I’m sorry everybody)

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

I’m a solid three, rising to four when it comes to smut. (The Max/Ideal Max/Pearl fic may be a five).

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

@funkypoacher has been a huge inspiration to me in this fandom. Hers was the first TOW fic I read. And talking to her has helped so much in terms of thinking about character and motivation. I’ve never written an oc the way I am now and that’s down to her.

@paliseizy and @vairasmythe ‘s writing really encouraged me to let my own freak flag fly. I love you guys.

In terms of published authors, Kazuo Ishiguro, Annie Proulx and David Mitchell just blow me away with what they can do with words and I dream of one day being able to do a fraction of what they can.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

Characters whom I consider bad or wrong but like, in a mundane way? To use examples from the Outer Worlds, I’ve written Rockwell cause he’s hugely entertaining, cutting about the place high on space cocaine laughing at the suckers who are gonna get iced. I haven’t, but I feel like I could write Akande, cause I feel she’s a paladin, a true believer and that’s fascinating even though her beliefs as I perceive them are diametrically opposed to my own. Ellie is just kinda selfish? And she makes a big deal out of rejecting Byzantium but her values are kind of exactly the same? I feel like if I ever wrote a character gettting into a debate with her it would just end up as a mouthpiece for me arguing with her as the embodiment of all too many real life people. And I don’t know if writing myself as winning or losing would be worse.

Pearl just told her that if she wants the big cabin that badly she can fight her for it, and that shut her up.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

I really like when characters who pride themselves on being in control are forced to get overwhelmingly horny. So sex pollen, heat/rut fic, alien sex rays etc. I don’t like ABO though, it’s subtly different in a way I can’t quite put my finger on.

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

I’m pretty much always listening to music, and if I hear something that really reminds me of a character or situation, I’ll save it and listen to it again while I’m writing. Characters I really vibe with get their own playlists, but I don’t have a specific writing playlist

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I am gonna take the opportunity and point out that I dropped one of my oc’s into Terror on Typhon as an Easter egg and no one has asked about him!

The man Nyoka is arguing with and then kisses at the start is Aloysious Millstone, a professional gambler and con artist and her future husband. His mother was a Rizzo’s secretary, his father was an executive who was visiting Cascadia. He never acknowledged his son, hence Millstone.

Unlike Nyoka, Aloysious was evacuated from Monarch when it was abandoned by the Board, but he resented everything about Byzantium and fled back to Monarch as soon as he was able by talking his way onto the catering crew of a space yacht headed for Fallbrook. Once there, he abandoned ship and got a job in Fallbrook tending bar. He is able to ‘code switch’ between Monarch native and Byzantium elite, and he uses this ability to scam the patrons out of some extra bits.

One time however, he makes the mistake of trying to scam Lilya Hagen - he’s never met her, has no clue who she is, and she does seem kind of absent minded. He is locked up while the SubLight management debate whether or not to feed him to Mini Malin, but ultimately they decide that he adds a touch of authentic seedy glamour to the image Fallbrook projects, so he becomes a professional gambler and card sharp in residence, under Catherine Malin’s protection in return for a cut of his takings.

Nyoka initially despises him because she thinks he’s a phoney through and through. But she comes to see that he loves the thrill of the hunt just as much as she does, only his prey is different. They both want to see a strong independent Monarch. And he doesn’t lie about himself to her - he’s very honest about who he is and what he wants, and unlike her previous partners he would never exaggerate his skill on the trail to impress her. He couldn’t kill a rapt to save his life, but he does look very fetching in a pair of rapt skin boots, and she likes being the one who hunted them for him.

[wylanvnneck]

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Simon is a Shadowhunter and Baz is a vampire, the Head of the Watford vampire clan, strange things are taking place in Watford and something needs to be done about it.

Originally a short one shot in this AU written for the Carry On Countdown, but thanks to a surprising demand for more via AO3 and Tumblr is now a multi-chap, hopefully, you’ll join me for the ride.

On AO3 | Masterlist | Previous Chapter

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Chapter 2

Simon is barely conscious of his actions as he slams open the abandoned castle door of the Watford Institute. The old stone walls of the building echo with the force of it and yet Simon is too busy recalling a pair of pitch black eyes to notice.

He trudges through the dimly lit corridors, ascending the wide wooden staircase, with one destination in mind; the training room on the second floor.

But first, he had to report back to the Mage.

That wasn’t the Mage’s real name of course, but it was the one that everyone knew him by. There were rumours that his true title was ‘Davy’ but Simon couldn’t resign that name with the enigmatic and powerful figure that the Mage represented. To him, the Mage was all-knowing, omnipotent and above all, his guardian, the Institute Head who’d provided a home for an abandoned orphan boy.

Said omnipotent, all knowing Institute Head was blinking up at him owlishly from behind his mahogany desk, his attention diverted from the tremendous tome which he’d been perusing before his charge had stormed in like an agitated werewolf.

“Simon. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing sir. I’m just reporting back after that vampire assignment you gave me.” Although his tone was as polite as usual, there’s an undercurrent to his words that spoke of his displeasure at having been assigned that particular task.

“Ah, yes. I trust everything went well?’

“Absolutely swell,”  He hoped the sarcasm wasn’t too apparent.

“Right…” the Mage was eyeing him curiously, head tilted to the side, probably trying to ascertain his mood before seeming to let it go. “Well then, run along and do what you will, you’re off duty for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you sir.”

The training room was the perfect place to vent his feelings. The burn in his biceps as he swings from bar to bar is a welcoming distraction from the turmoil of his thoughts. Thoughts which seemed to consist mostly of blood red cocktails, a pair of fangs and a tailored suit with a floral pattern. It seemed ridiculous that one infuriating blood sucker could push him so off balance, but there he was, so completely off-kilter.

That arrogant vampire. Baz, his brain reminded him. Well Baz could go to hell. How dare he make such insinuations about Shadowhunters? 

The Nephilim were what glued the supernatural community together. They were the overseers, the protectors. Without them the Magickal society would fall to pieces.

Why was this encounter bothering him so much?

He was used to Downworlder scorn, used to things like angry Warlocks knocking on the Institute’s door demanding that they be allowed to sell their services to mortals, services that would end in disaster if allowed. He’d never once before questioned the rules governing the other supernatural species, never once hesitated to tell an ambitious Downworlder ‘No’ and yet…

He jumps down from the bar he’d been hanging from, landing effortlessly on his feet. The tough leathery punching bag close by proves to be a good victim to take his frustrations out on.

Expensive cologne. A punch from the left.

Stupid not-even-truly-British accents. A punishing right hook.

A condescending smile framed by sculpted lips. A vicious roundhouse kick.

He hated this.

He needed someone to talk to. He needed Penelope.

He pulls away from the quivering bag and heads to the benches to swipe a wet towel over his sweaty face before hanging it around his neck as he squirts water onto his parched tongue. Merlin, for exactly how long had he been training?

The secret mundane phone that he kept back on the table in his room told him that the time was currently 4.00 am in the morning, meaning he’d been training for a cool two hours at a stretch after having gotten back from the revel at around 2.00. Wonderful. 

Even better, he had training with Agatha in four short hours. Well, he’d better get what sleep he could.

He swipes open his lockscreen before typing a quick message to his Parabatai.

Vampires are terrible. Yes, I know, they rarely suck on human blood and when they do it’s not always harmful but Crowley, Penny you haven’t met the Head Vampire of the Watford Clan. He’s a bloody arsehole. 

Having delivered that missive he heads off to get ready for bed.

Agatha is a lot less enthusiastic than usual at training this morning and that’s really saying something as she was never really all that enthusiastic to begin with. In fact, if Simon didn’t know any better he’d think that she resented being a Shadowhunter. Impossible. Being Nephilim was an honour.

“Simon! Stop attacking me with that thing.”

Simon had barely been moving his practice blade and yet Agatha seemed to think the false blade posed enough of a threat.

He just barely suppresses a long-suffering sigh. “Agatha, that’s the whole point of training. We pretend to attack each other so we’ll be prepared for actual attacks.”

“I really don’t see the point of training for an attack. Nothing fun ever happens around here anyways.”

Nothing fun. As if fights and wars and people being injured was fun. Biting back a retort he simply says, “Still, it’s always a good idea to be prepared.”

“Oh very well.” With a long suffering sigh of her own she finally raises her blade in an half-hearted attempt to parry him.

Practice goes worse than usual, but Simon’s day had been off even before then, he’d woken up to no messages from Penny who was usually up at the crack of dawn but he’d chalked it down to possible exhaustion from travelling. Not that she’d really gone all that far either. It felt weird to not have her frizzy haired self nearby. They’d been almost inseparable since even before they were twelve, when it had become time for him to decide who he’d have as a parabatai, Simon didn’t even have to think twice before deciding on Penny.

She was a force of nature and a constant presence; always there, always dependable. She also had a penchant for reading him way too easily.

He doesn’t truly start panicking however, he’s willing to give her silence the benefit of the doubt at least for the moment, after all, his parabatai rune wasn’t giving off any odd signals. 

Then, the phone call happened.

 Professor Bunce sounds hurried and displeased. “Simon, can you please remind Penelope to not forget to bring an extra pillow and bedsheet with her when she gets here and do tell her to answer my calls.” 

“Professor Bunce,” the panic is rising in his voice, he can almost taste it, like bile traveling up his throat. “Penelope left for home yesterday. She should have been there by now.”

There’s a long pause. So long that Simon has to pinch himself to make sure that this is indeed reality. 

“Simon, what are you saying? Surely you know where my daughter is.”

“No, Professor.” His voice is cracked. “I don’t.”

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Stay tuned for chapter 3, I’ll try to get it up soon but I make no promises🌺

Tagging some of the lovely people who are the reason why this exists: @eviegalois​ and @sourcherrysconess​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the taglist.

[clarascuro]

Clara Reads City of Bones Part 3: Hogwarts Institute for Witchcraft and Shadowhunting

The Plot Thus Far

When last we left off, our lovable cardboard cutout protagonist, Clary Fray, had been attacked by a demon called a Ravener and taken to a place called “The Institute”. After three days of recovery, she has an uncomfortable (for us) conversation with Isabelle Lightwood, where we learn that Isabelle is hot and that we, the audience, should hate her for that, and also that Jace Wayland lives with the Lightwood family because his parents are dead. We are meant to feel bad about this. We are meant to feel sorry for Jace, which is a bit of a tall order, considering that Jace Wayland is the worst person to ever smirk and shrug his way through a YA book. If I were trapped in an elevator with him I wouldn’t even wait five minutes to be rescued, I’d pry those doors open and just drop. Death is cruel but quality time with Jace Wayland is crueler. 

So Clary leaves the hospital wing and goes down a long hallway, lead by the sound of someone playing a piano. Last time I said that it was Alec (Isabelle’s brother) who played piano, and that it was his only character trait, but nope!! It’s actually my favorite boy Jace, that sack of human refuse! So I guess Alec has no personality, actually. Anyway, they have some “witty” “banter”, and then Alec takes her to the library to talk to the head of the Institute, Hodge Starkweather, and, yeah. I think it’s time to talk about the Harry Potter stuff. 

The Harry Potter Stuff

You know how E.L. James made minor changes to her crappy Twilight fanfic and then published it as 50 Shades of Gray? Well, as near as anyone can figure out, this is basically the same thing that Cassandra Clare did with her Harry Potter fanfic The Draco Trilogy. Just change the names, tweak the backstories ever so slightly, slap on a crappy cover and publish that sucker! It’s technically not plagiarism anymore! This is how you end up with stuff like "The Institute”, a secret school to teach young magic kids to control their powers, or Hodge Starkweather, elderly magic professor, who, one could argue, is a crackpot old fool teaching our protagonists magic tricks. (Gosh, how does Clare come up with this stuff?) 

This obviously isn’t proof of any kind, but when the villain of your story is named “Valentine” and he’s an evil magic user who has been dead for sixteen years (the age of our secretly magic protagonist) and the main characters are afraid to even say his name...yeah, it doesn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where all of this comes from. 

Now all this is frustrating, but it’s also hilarious. I mean, the big bad of the story is called Valentine. VALENTINE. And I actually laughed out loud for several minuted when I first read the name “Hodge Starkweather” to myself. I still get a little chuckle typing this. Oh, and since the word “muggle” would have JK Rowling’s lawyers on her ass faster than light, the word Cassandra Clare uses for non-magic people is...”Mundie”. It’s short for “mundane”. Like...first of all this is objectively hilarious. Second, mundane just means “normal”. If the Shadowhunter society is magical, then aren’t they they mundane ones? I know humans don’t have magic, but we still figured how to like, fly and stuff. That has to count for something. If I saw a dog that taught himself how to read, I wouldn’t like, make fun of him for not also being able to talk. I’d be like “Shit! That’s a pretty impressive fucking dog!” like what the fuck?

Anyway, this is all just a roundabout way to say that obviously this used to be a HP fic that through some twist of fate landed a publishing deal. And you know, it’s not as brain-meltingly bad as 50SoG, so who cares? Cassandra Clare’s just having fun, so who cares if her writing gets published? 

Well...

The Plagiarism

So, yeah, she plagiarized lot. Like a lot. The Draco Trilogy has lines of dialogue taken directly from shows like Red Dwarf, Black Adder, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as from Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novels. Quoting shows apparently used to be pretty common in the early days of fanfiction, so there is context to consider here, but it gets worse. Cassandra Clare lifted almost a whole chapter, nearly word for word, from an out-of-print fantasy series called The Hidden Land, by Pamela Dean. On top of that, Clare was sued in 2016 by author Sherrilyn Kenyon, whose Darkhunter series predates Clares Shadowhunters series. (And for the record, Clare’s series was originally titled Darkhunters. Yikes.) You guys can read the full(ish) stories here and here.

I Guess I Have To Keep Talking About The Plot Now

Sigh. So after Hodge Starkweather (A+ naming there) tells them about Valentine, he explains that Shadowhunters are angel-human hybrids? Or something? They’re special, and they fight demons. Also faries, vampires, werewolves, all that stuff exists. We’re stuck with the Shadowhunters, however, because God has punished me for my hubris, and my work is never done. (Oh look, I just plagiarized Brian David Gibert. I’m a real author now, like Cassandra Clare!) The Shadowhunters were started thousands of years ago by a man named, I shit you not, Jonathan Shadowhunter. JONATHAN. FUCKING. SHADOWHUNTER. Why the fuck am I trying to come up with clever names for my characters? I should just name them all “Alex Clarasbook” and call it a fucking day. Fuck.

Anyway after a thrilling conversation with Alec-Who-Has-No-Personality, we find out that he does have a personality! His personality is that he hates humans. Oh, excuse me, “mundies.” Yep, that’s the best way to make a character relatable. Just make ‘em fucking racist. It’s okay though, it’s only magical racism so it evens out. Have I mentioned that this story has no poc?

(Oh also Clary’s mom was a Shadowhunter, but 1. I hate Clary                        and 2. literally a newborn baby could’ve figured that out, so)

Clary and Jace leave the Institute to go back to Clary’s house, and Clary slaps Jace, an act that brings me such joy that only the birth of my firstborn child will ever eclipse it, and even then, it will be it close tie. The moment is quickly over, however, as Clary immediately feels bad about it, because again, she is not a character. She’s a Walmart mannequin created for Jace to make out with. Then she sees two girls looking at Jace, and, in what can only be called the true essence of the book, “Clary turned instant traitor against her gender.” Just as a reminder, Clary sucks.

Anyway they get to her house, kill a giant, talk to a witch, yaddah yaddah yaddah. Basically nothing happens except the inevitable unraveling of my mental processes. I had to stop reading there because I have better things to do with my life besides destroying the few braincells I have left. I’ll post the next part soon, as soon as I can read more than five pages without wanting to fling the book off a seaside cliff into the frothing mist that obscures the swell and crash of the unforgiving waves. Until then, please enjoy some of my favorite bad lines.

Selected Passages (And Commentary)

“Jace chuckled. Clary could tell that he had come up behind her and was standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning that infuriating grin of his.”                                                                                                             (She knew all that without looking?)

“Attacked. Clary wondered if this was a euphemism for ‘murdered’.”            (Clary you’re literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met.)

“Clary let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.”                  (This may just be me being petty, but I hate this cliche so much.)

“‘You may be the only guy my age I’ve ever met who knows what bergamot is, much less that it’s in Earl Grey tea.”                                                                   (Ah yes, that famous stereotype, that boys don’t know about tea. Oh, you like tea? Name three kinds. I hear sexist gatekeeping is a real problem in the tea community. I am not having a good time.)

“Dorothea chuckled. ‘It’s good to see a young woman eat her fill. In my day, girls were robust, strapping creatures, not twigs like they are nowadays.’ ‘Thanks,’ Clary said. She thought of Isabelle’s tiny waist and felt suddenly gigantic.”                                                                            (Cassandra Clare’s super feminist, guys. You can tell because she’s always pitting her female characters against each other.)

Rating So Far

3/10-Bad. Jonathan Shadowhunter gets an entire 10/10. I’m going to have my name legally changed to Jonathan Shadowhunter.

[kaleidoscopeofdreamss]

Alone but not lonely

It's finally sunk in that I'm alone, alone, and it feels nice because I'm not lonely, which is strange considering I live by myself in a 4 bedroom apartment (yes, it's a little to big for me 😂), but I'm talking about in the relationship sense. Ive always been a creature who dwells in her solitude, which is why him and he and I decided to part ways. We also didn't want to force something, as I once did while I was abroad, based on selfish reasons of him not wanting to lose me and me feeling held back. It was a smart and mature decision on both our ends. I'm glad he was understanding and knew it was the right thing to do in this moment because it made this transition easier for us both. We both have other things to focus on, especially our personal goals and progress. He's on a different path than I am, and I'm actually quite proud of him for all the hard work and dedication he puts into bettering himself. I'm glad i met someone like him to show me there's others like me out there with a fire under their bellies--it's just a matter of finding them, or them finding me.

However, like my previous partner, he knew he couldn't make me as happy as living in Spain does. To be honest, Spain feels different this time around. The transition has been more difficult than other times, but in a peculiar way; Luckily, I was mentally prepared for this, but not culturally. Valencia is an entire different world than both Barcelona and Sevilla, and I realize now how fortunate I am to have experienced both and now the Valencian culture. And although I find it quieter than barcelona and less charming than Sevilla, there's something about it that's starting to grow on me (definitely not the food tho haha). Pa el y pa el, but definitely not pa mi 😂 All jokes aside, what has made the difficulties easier to bare are all the happen stance occurrences that have happened along the way these past 4.5 weeks. I keep laughing at all the little things that have aligned for me and all the countless "coincidental" meetings with people since the moment I landed on Spanish soil. So far, I've clicked with far more people in these short 4.5 weeks than with people I've grown up with, or have seen repeatedly back home. And that's because I'm meeting people who are go-getters like me, who want to explore the world and have seen and experienced it too. It's helping me grow as a person for once, and it feels nice. I was tired of the mundane and shallow surface level conversations, connections and perspectives on life back in San Diego. The people from my city are too small minded for me--too set in their ways--unwilling to break out of comfort zones.

^^

I noticed this (the small mindedness) especially when I would hang out with his friends. It became more clear and evident to me that we were far to different to ever coincide long term when I started spending more time with the people he enjoyed surrounding himself with. They were close minded, small minded, traditional, boring and almost small-town type of folk, who i just didn't vibe with, but that's who he felt comfortable with. He used to say he liked people with a "raw" sense of humour, which sometimes equated to ignorant, immature and, plain out, dumb in my eyes. They lacked depth and true intellect. The people he surrounded himself were one-track minded, surface level folk, who had little disregard for the deeper meaning of life. And then I realized it was a reflection of him. It hit me hard when we had brunch with his friends once in I.B. I remember feeling out of place and wanting to leave, but I also didn't want to be dramatic because we were rocky at the time. Every part of me wanted to walk out of that restaurant. The more time I spent there, the more I cringed and the antsier I became in my chair. I don't think he even noticed my discomfort. I'm a great actress. Truth is, I'm sharp and witty and can hold an intellectual conversation, which we used to do when we first met, but then I outgrew him. I began to become interested in things that mattered and in self growth, which he didn't seem to care for. He wanted to stay stuck in his cyclical ways, with his same small circle of small-minded folk. And that's why we grew apart. And the last few weeks leading up to the breakup, I evaluated my intuition, and I scanned my body for how I felt when he was around me, how I felt around his friends, and it was uncomfortable. We had become too different; we saw the world too differently and, especially, approached it like night and day, which is exactly what we're doing now.

^^^ haha Idk why patrick is up there, but I hit paste and that gif appeared 😂 okay, tangent aside....back to talking about how the universe has been setting forth everything in my path perfectly and fatefully. So, even before I left, everything has been aligning all-too perfectly for me. It was a domino affect. It was as if there was this whole life and plan waiting for me once we detached from each other, which means, he was right, we just were never meant to be--as much as we wanted it to be. We forced it from the start. He forced it too, which is why sometimes I wish he wouldn't have tried so hard to prove me wrong; it would've saved me a lot of heartache, disappointment and pain. I keep wishing he would've let me go (as he just did) the first time I left to Spain. That was when I was ready to let him go and find the life I'm making now, but I was somehow convinced it was with him in San Diego because he put this silly idea in my head that we were meant to be. And, boy, was I wrong. He were wrong, yet I knew it all along. He was stubbornly in love, and I let him TRY to prove me otherwise. And I don't blame him anymore because I, too, had a choice, but I was too weak to say no to him and too weak to let go of us.

It was the rare connection we had that binded us and kept me bound to him but, as time went by, our differences were magnified in the real light of life after the honey moon phase was over. His voice, his caresses, the way he'd say my name, hold my hand and kiss me passionately, even towards the end, gave me every reason to stay by his side. At one point, I even fell in love with him all over again when we were doing horribly, and it made me appreciate his flaws, but it further blinded and attached me to what was no good for me. That's my biggest vice: always trying to see the good in people, ignoring their flaws and loving them anyway, instead of seeing the real and realizing when it's time to walk awal. Thats why when he hurt me and let me down, I was a total and complete sucker for him, especially since he "didn't know any better." I made a list of excuses for him and waited for him to "grow up" aka "change." Silly of me. And somewhere along the lines of waiting, wishing, hoping and romanticizing delusions and believing false promises , I forgot what i deserved, but I've reminded myself again. Spain has given me clarity of who I am again and what I deserve. Being in another relationship soon after that seemed like perfect timing also reaffirmed that timing is everything.

That's all it truly is in life and love. And, at this moment, life is giving me exactly what I need. After falling countless times, I've found my ground again, and I'm planting them firmly on Spanish soil and never looking back. I'm not sure if I'll stay in Valencia long term, but I have a nice home, an easy work schedule and a new group of friends, who have proven to be kindred spirits. Perhaps I'll try my hand at Madrid, or even head back to Sevilla. All I know is I could see myself making Spain my permanent home someday. Hopefully soon. Since I landed the international internship, it's given me the ability to live here until May or August 2019, and I'm pushing for August, which is when I'll graduate with my MSW. During that time, I'm going to figure out a way to stay for good. I've been thinking and reflecting back on my life in San Diego, and I'm glad I left everything behind. There's nothing there for me anymore. Spain, I'm finally here to stay.

Bona nit, chikis! <3

[smartestcstudent]

Hi there. I’m embarrassed about the cliched nature of my problem which is probably why I’m airing it out on a random advice blog I just found rather than consulting a friend. But here goes. My husband and I aren’t getting along anymore. That’s not all that original. The twist is I think it’s our kids fault. I mean, not literally, but ever since we had them (boy and girl, ages 5 and 2) we have gradually enjoyed each other less and less. When they were babies everything was rosy, if overwhelming, of course. But lately it feels like once we get them both to sleep we’d rather zone out on TV than talk to one another. And if we do talk it seems like it turns into conflict, especially if the talk turns to the kids where we’ll butt heads, respectfully, but still butt them. I used to have a ball with this guy. We loved doing everything together. When we got married we were all gung ho to do the kids and white picket fence. Now everything with us just feels like it takes so much … effort. We’re like a real life Al and Peg Bundy. Is there anything to be done about this? Are we just going to be another predictably statistically dead marriage? - Laurie, 36, Madison, WI

Everything about our traditional mating patterns completely contradicts everything involved with our traditional notions of happily ever after. What do romantic relationships really consist of anyway? Spending time together. At first, spending fun time together. Going to drinks, dinner, movies, shows, museums, whatever it is that you like to spend your recreational time doing. Maybe the things you like in common. Maybe enjoying the contrasts in your interests. And on top of that hopefully really good naked time. Then once you’ve established that leisure-time bond you start doing the mundane things together. Shopping, cooking, familial obligations. Why? Because you’ve really gotten used to how this person’s presence makes the time pass quickly, so why not apply it to life’s drudgery to make it go easier. So you say, “hey, there’s a mind-blowing blowjob in it for you if you come sit at the DMV with me.” Sigh, young love.

Seeing as how you’ve successfully found someone you enjoy engaging with during leisure time, life’s drudgery and naked time, there’s clearly nothing left to do but lock that shit down with a ring and start replicating yourselves. And that’s where everything that formed the basis for your relationship becomes irrelevant. You’ve traded in a life of spending time with someone you enjoy to running a small business with them. Because the truth is that’s what having a family is like most of the time: logistics, budgeting, transportation, investment, board meetings about employees’ work and conduct. 90% of your time with one another will become about keeping the trains running on time and discussing how the train just got derailed. Leisure time? If you’re lucky, a couple hours a week. Naked time? If you’re lucky, a couple fleeting moments a month. Drudgery? Plenty and now your partner has become a part of it instead of just a helpful co-pilot.

Sorry to be so bleak in my evaluation of family. Obviously there are great rewards and pleasures in children and family life otherwise people wouldn’t keep doing it. But the realities of it often crash headlong into romanticized notions of a lifelong, loving relationship. Some relationships weather these realities better than others. Just because yours isn’t at the moment doesn’t mean you’re locked into a failed marriage. Kids are just one of many experiences over a lifetime that will change you and your relationship. The reason there’s always a round of applause when someone announces they’re having a 50th, 40th, 30th or even 20th wedding anniversary is that it’s a bit of a miracle for any relationship to survive all those experiences. My two cents would be for you to ride it out for the time being. Don’t try and force a reconnection. Acknowledge it, because it’s healthy to be open with one another about what’s going on. But don’t feel compelled to restart the fire out of panic that you’re losing one another. It might be just as good to give each other some space, let each other go out and hang out with other friends instead of each other all the time. After all, absence does make the heart grow fonder. And in time, if the viable connection is still there, you will find your way back each other in the new versions of yourself and your lives that exist now. And if you don’t, there’s no shame in calling it day on something that’s not working for you or your kids anymore. You didn’t fail, life just had its way with you.

Okay, so I have to vent here for a moment. Like most sane women on OKCupid, Match.com, Tinder, etc., I have a clear disclaimer in my profile that Trump voters are a no go with me. I’m pretty open-minded when it comes to dating people of all races, religions and have even dated a Republican in the past but getting involved with someone who thought it was okay to vote for that incompetent misogynist is just a bridge too far. ANYWAY, so I’m on a date with a charming fella recently. We’ve met for drinks for a feel-each-other-out session and everything is going well, better than these things usually go. Then towards the end, as we’re paying the check and I’m considering whether I’m going to give this guy my digits, he confesses that he’s a TRUMP VOTER. I mean, WTF. I’m so annoyed. And bewildered that this perfectly engaging and hot man is a MFing Trump voter. He represents something I clearly stand against and he basically lied to me by not being upfront with me. I can’t see him again...right?

On a related note, part of the reason I don’t want to date a Trump voter is because I hate thinking about him or being reminded he exists specifically because I want him to die. Literally. And I hate feeling like that about someone even someone as repugnant as him. I’ve hated people before. I hated Bush. But I never wished he or anyone else in the world would die. I just hate feeling that way about someone because it feels wrong. - Janine, 31, Oceanside, CA

Disclosing you’re a Trump voter when dating is a requirement on par with being up front with having a STD. Choices they made in the past have put people’s health at risk and it is fair for anyone dating them to know. Now, that said, is it fair to strike anyone who voted for Trump off your to-do list? It’s certainly fair to wonder about their judgment and what it says about them. The common assumption is that someone who voted for Trump is stupid. That’s probably reductive, but it’s certainly possible that they suffer from some kind of defect in ethics, morals or possibly common sense. But I’m not a big believer in evaluating people by the worst thing they ever did. Everyone makes mistakes. Just like how someone having an STD doesn’t mean they’re an irresponsible, disease-ridden degenerate, voting for Trump, as inexplicable as it may be, doesn’t guarantee this guy is a soulless misogynist. If everything else about him is agreeable and you want to give him a chance, I suggest asking him why he voted for Trump and whether he regrets his decision. A lot of people in this country made a big mistake last November. They got suckered by a con man. Give him a chance to reconcile with this because we’re all in this together whether we like it or not. If he can’t, or his answers don’t satisfy you, move on.

As for feeling guilt about wishing Trump dead, there’s nothing wrong with that. Your thoughts have no power. It would only be a problem if you felt motivated to act on those feelings. But wishing a repugnant, 70-year-old man who’s ruining the country would cease to exist is not an immoral feeling. I certainly wouldn’t want him to be assassinated. Murder always leaves a psychic stain no matter how much one may rationalize its justification. And lord knows Trump’s already going to leave plenty of psychic stains on this country without dying. But natural causes? Sure. Everyone has to die at some point so why can’t nature intervene and save us from this neverending disaster. Maybe I’m just a vengeful bastard, but I think the sweet relief of death is too generous for Trump. I’d rather he just had a debilitating stroke that left him making this face for the rest of his life.

Dude. This Alien: Covenant trailer is getting me psyched. But Prometheus blew mud. Am I a sucker if I go see this thing opening weekend? - Brad, 45, Tennesse

Back in the cinematic paleolithic age of the ‘70s when the original Alien was released, movies weren’t generally conceived as “franchises.” They weren’t set up from the get-go as trilogies or expanded universes and what have you. The filmmakers maybe left some wiggle room open to make more if it was successful, but they weren’t launching pads for properties that a studio could bilk ad infinitum. Even Star Wars, popularizer of the trilogy form, ended with no cliffhanger or indication there would be more. The “Episode IV” on the iconic opening crawl was added for the film’s re-release prior to The Empire Strikes Back’s release in 1981.

In the ‘80s though, sequels became big business. Movies still weren’t made with plans for future entries mapped out but anything that made a pretty penny would be green lit for another outing no matter how craptastic the plot drummed up to justify its existence. On the other hand, Jim Cameron’s Aliens is one of the greatest sequels of all time. It took one obvious question left over from the original - what laid all those leathery eggs the facehuggers popped out of - and mined it for all the suspense and action it could. It took the Xenomorph and simply multiplied it with a mama alien to battle and bring an end to the alien terror. It was an artistic, critical and commercial triumph that wrapped up the tale of Ellen Ripley and the Xenomorphs in satisfying conclusion. So clearly there had to be more.

The beginning of Alien 3 (yes nerds, I know the 3 is actually cubed but I’m way too lazy to figure out how to do that) set the tone for all the tortured, misbegotten sequels by crashing Ripley on a desolate prison planet and killing off the new characters from Aliens we’d come to love including Newt, the little girl to whom Ripley had become a mother figure. Good times. From then on each installment has been one grotesque mess after another, piling on an increasingly unnecessary mythology with decreasing results. Finally Ridley Scott decided to return to the thing he started with Prometheus, an Alien movie...with no aliens in it. It was a great looking movie that, as you eloquently put it, blew mud. That evaluation could honestly be applied to Ridley Scott’s entire career. Bizarrely, he’s been an A-list director for 40 years while only producing two great movies: Alien and Thelma & Louise. And no, Blade Runner shouldn’t be added to that list. It is the apotheosis Ridley Scott film in the sense that it is an amazing looking narrative clusterfuck and a complete bore. Nix on Gladiator as well. When the most memorable thing about a movie is that time the most detestable character on The Sopranos was obsessed with it, the movie wasn’t that great.

I get the appeal of Alien: Covenant. It’s got a fantastic cast. Who doesn’t want to hear Danny McBride mouth off at a Xenomorph? And yes, it looks fantastic with that iconic and still-terrifying-to-this-day alien drawing you in. Most likely though, it’s a hollow rehash of a tired franchise made by an overrated director. Proceed with caution.

Aural medication for the week: “Pure Comedy”

In need of advice? Send your questions to smartestcstudent@gmail.com